Not Raining, Pouring

I was not yet

am not

yet will be

infinite in the ocean

tethered by my infinity

to the sand

tethered to red rock

my broken back strewn across

my face

pointed to myself

sewn across last nights sky

last night

alluding to myself.

poured into the ocean

anchored by infinity

to my inconjurable self.

tethered to the sand

bloodied bruised and waiting.

TONIGHT!!

This night turned into a magical night,

The stars shed their light on the grapes,

The sky and the earth fought, run with my love,  

The clouds took away the tears from my eyes,

I said the end of this day, kama, qussəye,

May the clouds lie on your arms,

May the loving volunteers please you,

The poets had a sleepless night.

I allowed my soul to ascend to the sky,

The moon quickly rubbed itself with the star and sun,

Thank God, the floods passed away from us

Our hearts were filled with troubled weather.

Real dreams have arrived,

Every memory of mine is sweeter than honey,

My dear lady shed light on me,

There is light at the end of my path.

Sara Göyçeli Şerifova 23.05.2024

(ŞƏRIFOVA) 8.02. In 1962, she was born from the Sadanağac-Guney family of the Basarkeçer district of the Goycha district of Azerbaijan. Five books of the poetess have come to light so far. Over time, she worked as a branch manager in several newspapers and journals in the press. Its operation continues today. At the same time, her poems have been translated into many languages ​​and appeared in Almanaxes. It is a member of the Azerbaijan Journalists Union. It operates specially in the field of Medicine. She is the co-vice president of the Women’s Council of the Social Union “The Development of Relationships among Turkish Women”. She is the owner of many awards for his activities.

Well, The essay of mine is based on overcoming conflicts in my personal life. If I reveal something about my personality, character or lifestyle, it's that I am such a calm, peaceful, introverted, relaxed person. I can say that not upsetting people is one of my traits.

So, why am I writing or exposing my character in this essay? To explain that I have encountered so many problems, conflicts, issues and longitude considerations. I am absolutely saying as one of the minor member of this generation -people, especially youngsters, do not want to respect others. I had had some kind of conflicts with children, individuals and school organization that year, I am going to speak about them one by one in my essay.

Initially, my personal character has caused many misunderstandings with school mates during my school years. I do not fancy having a conversation with people who are irresponsible, irresistible, irrespective, rough, rude and also stupid. Nonetheless, we must admit these types of people are more and more around us. 

Once upon a time, when I paid a visit to school in the past, some teens in my school were kidding me and say something worse about me. At that time I did not pay attention to their stereotypes. I though it was a simple childish thing of them to say. Then it escalated and I should have done something to prevent these bad things for me, at this time I had few conceptions of how to get rid of their violations or bullying.

Therefore I have three ways to figure out this conflict, First, I can utilize adequate manipulations to their psychology, because if they had had a good personality, they wouldn't have behaved themselves in this way. In this situation, not only did I not influence them with true and impactful opinions and conversation, but I was likely to be influenced. I just ought to speak to their guardians or parents, if I was not able to manage it. 

I would call their parents, so that I could have a straightforward and easy conversation. The next day I did come across again to them in the hall. Tranquility was really gone there, they were bound to reveal some of nasty or unacceptable sayings again and again. After that I had been trying to have a top-notch and real conversation with them.

I requested them to please tell me why they were doing that to me.    I had spoken about their life, asked them to be a merciful person. I told them about homes for orphans, refugees, and the poor. Then I said it was not too complex to be a better person.

Every person has a admirable personality, positive hobbies, and closest acquaintances who are able to shape that person from the core. After this phenomenal situation, every member of his "crew " left there without any words, genuinely realizing that we must be thankful, respectful, and responsible humans. We must take a look at the significant issues around our world. 

They understood that embarrassing people did not gain them anything. I was both happy to influence someone to find out the significance of their life, why they are living in this life, what the importance of their goals and dreams are, and indispensably, to be a grateful person. They had bullied everyone, not just me, so that's why I did these campaigns to teach manners to them. It was beneficial for everyone who were suffering from their actions, because everyone has a right to live proudly and independently.

My mother tongue

Languages are beautiful, my Uzbek language,

If the creator of beings is resounding.

My Uzbek language seems to be unmatched in glory,

If the light shines in the hearts of those who hear.

My people proudly say on every front,

The anthem of the country, the bright gloss of the language.

If it increases the reputation,

Such is the power of words, oh well done.

If you love your tongue, blood flows in the veins,

My native language is inherited from my grandfathers.

If you love your language, you will find a place in any field.

If the world loves the Uzbek language, it will be my language.

I value my soul like gold,

I will give my life for my tongue.

We, the Asrayites, are our heritage, like our ancestors.

It is strong even for barley grain.

My Uzbek people, let’s celebrate the language holiday,

Let’s celebrate the birth of a beautiful language.

Let the world know, the whole world, let the nations know,

Great respect of the Uzbeks who speak the language.

Shamsiyeva Gavhar was born in Zarafshan, Navoi region. In addition to science classes, he practices poetry. He has taken pride of place in several republican contests. Her future dream is to win the state award named after Zulfia.

Grown A Little Higher

She painted the ‘Battlefield’

onto her face

with criss-crossed

‘Emotions’…

and walked

… differently…

away from the

(Previous) Incarnation

she had just Discarded.

“I shall no more

‘Shrink’ to fit in

anywhere…

‘Acceptance’

is a self-given Gift…

and, I belong

equally amongst Life’s

Flowers, Thorns and Thistles.”

No Entry (Ever Again!)

‘Access Denied’

… is the best

Weapon to use

upon the Toxic.

You cannot

manipulate,

argue or placate

… Silence,

a Brick Wall,

a Closed Door.

Give a ‘snake’

no slither-room

within your

bright Energy…

and, it will

confuse, anger

and frighten

them… into a

Pain unbearable.

Bowers, Bows, And Bovver Boys

Beginning with ‘Entropy’

… 2 love hearts

hating the same thing…

and, they put a ring on it.

“You haven’t seen her

‘Smile’, have you?

You’d be more than ‘head

over heels’ you’d

understand and become

a (Human) Bowerbird.”

I can taste your ‘Energy’

… and, I’m murderous,

afflicted, and withdrawn

… like an arCHed bow…

coming for your Emotions

straight as a damned arrow.

Suspicious Comfort Zones

And, beneath

Raven Black

Banners…

we Frown,

READY

for all things

Negative…

the ‘Light’

is Mistrusted

… and,

‘Peace’

a Trick,

Trojan Horse

.. a way into

those

‘Vulnerable

Places’…

which instead

of ‘Sharing’

we DEFEND!

… And That, As They Say, Is That

No Fear of ‘Derision’

… puts you up

upon a Higher Level

… than the insecure.

True ‘Confidence’

requires no Mask…

and remains Silent

when gaining ground

… and Obliterating

‘Targets’… which

the clowns, fakes,

and braggarts…

cannot even get Near.

Backing Off Towards The Nearest Exit Point

It is just so Unfamiliar

… you remained

‘Calm’ when I made

a ‘Mistake’… and,

instead of ‘Rage’

… you asked me if

I was going to be okay

… I’m confused…

and, really not sure

that I can be around

someone so… so…

‘Unemotional’

and (Scarily) Different.

Uncouth, Sir!

Absolutely ‘No Shame’

… you grinned as

she tutted the word

‘Problematic’…

and, belly-laughed

when asked to

explain yourself…

answering calmly

“I would dent and

buckle the safety bar

of your preposterous

‘High Horse’

position… damaging

your fragile ‘Ego’

forever and a day

… afore we’d even

got halfway-in to my

Fract/ured Personality.”

Paul Tristram is a Welsh ‘Street’ Writer who has poems, short stories & flash fiction published in hundreds of different publications all around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.

His novel “Crazy Like Emotion”, short story collection “Kicking Back Drunk ‘Round The Candletree Graves” and full-length poetry collection “The Dark Side Of British Poetry: Book 1 of Urban, Cinematic, Degeneration” are available from Close To The Bone Publishing.

My mother

Mom, you are for us

You are both great and honorable.

There is a folk saying:

“Learn from Cradle to Grave”

We are your beloved children

Three girls, one male shunkor.

We boldly promise

Now we can help you!

Now we put aside

The joys of childhood,

“We won’t tell you

About my father’s death…”

stay home (covid 19)

Dear relatives,

Dear blood relatives,

My classmate, my confidants,

Please stay at home

shed less tears now

Read more books

Write meaningful poems,

Please stay at home

Memorizing from Navoi,

put wisdom in your heart,

Enjoy your time

Please stay at home

Brave as our countryman

Man does not exist in the world.

He gives his life for us

This is God’s test 

We will definitely win.

That’s why my people

Let’s be patient

Be sensitive for now

Please stay home!

Faizullayeva Gulasal was born on January 28, 2009 in Gijduvan district, Bukhara region.The author of “My father’s dream” and “My mother’s paradise”.In addition, he made many achievements in chemistry and biology. English language, literature, mother tongue are among his favorite subjects. Participated in the “Festival of Book Lovers” – “Festival of Literature” and won a 3-day trip to Tashkent. There are 6 people in their family. His father died. She is a very talented, smart and beautiful girl. She has many plans, dreams, and goals for the future, so Gulasal is studying biology and chemistry and making every effort to achieve them. He wants to become a good doctor in the future and send his mother to Hajj. Her future dreams are to take IELTS, win student of the year, Zulfiya award and open a course and teach students.

————————————————————————-

all their little trophies

we used to have cats

when we used to live

out on the farm

they all spoke spanish

i believe one was a buddhist

he would come up to

the front porch and we’d

have long conversations

while i was smoking

my cigarettes

they would bring all

their little trophies

up to that porch

mouse, squirrel, rabbit,

even a fucking snake

all for that shake of the

bag to get some treats

it was like i was a dealer

some rival gang of coyotes

would sneak in and take a

few of them from time to time

i never saw the buddhist one die

i believe he transcended all space and time

i never did say what was in those cigarettes

—————————————————————-

the day of the dead

doing some living

on the day of the

dead

warming temperatures

fresh dead bodies

exposed on the

mountains

if life is a circle

are we just the

jerk

life meanders on

as time starts to

stand still

broken and lost

the endless desires
of a generation that
never got the chance
to make those desires
come true

—————————————————–

games on the radio

some soft music

as we all wait

to die

listening to an

old guy talk

about listening

to baseball games

on the radio back

in the fifties

he pauses

thinks of something

and then starts

about politics

the war has taken

something out of

us all

there is no rush

we’re all going to

be in the ground

soon enough

——————————————————————

election day

i marvel at people who

are proud to be stupid

who picked themselves

up by those proverbial

bootstraps yet still don’t

understand how the game

is played

and here come the outsiders

the grifters that know there

is always some dumb fuck

to make tons of money off of

i sit back and watch

and just laugh

my father was one of those

dumb asses

he always thought he was

smarter than anyone else

in the room

i stole from him much

of my life

money, baseball cards,

whatever i knew that dumb

fuck wouldn’t notice was gone

when i heard the stories that

his second wife drained the

pension and let him die

penniless in the VA

i just shook my head and knew

he never learned his lesson

apparently, no one ever does

———————————————-

haven’t found a sheep yet

thumbing

through the

pages of a

magazine

hoping to

find a

beautiful

face to

lose my

imagination

ini don’t
think this
old farm
magazine
is going
to do the
trick

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been published in many places over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whiskey Review and The Beatnik Cowboy. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)