(Photo of a Central Asian teen girl in a white blouse and black coat with dark hair up in a bun).

My dear teacher who made us dear!!! 

This day is in the bosom of a clear sky, 

Navo sounds very long, 

Thank you my kind teacher, 

For giving us your knowledge. 

This world is short, dear teacher, 

You teach the necessary subjects, 

I am great today because of you

Browsing books, the world of knowledge. 

You know me, hold my hand 

If I don’t come, you will wait for my way anyway

Sacrificed everything for me 

Like my mother, the world has swallowed sorrows. 

My dear teacher is as great as my father, 

I love you 

My teacher Madina is my best teacher, 

My blossoming spring, you sweet summer. 

I can’t live without you

One day I will definitely be like you 

People all over the world are envious,

I will send you flowers

You will always be in my heart, 

I learn a lot from you,

My body lives with you

My heart flutters every time I see you.

Sobirjonova Rayhona, a 10th-grade student of the 8th general secondary school in Vobkent district, Bukhara region. She was born in December 2008 in the village of Chorikalon, Vobkent district, in a family of intellectuals. Her parents supported her from a young age. She started writing in the 3rd grade. Her first creative poem was published in the newspaper “Vobkent Hayot”. She has also published extensively in Synchronized Chaos, India’s Namaste India Magazine, Gulkhan Magazine, Germany’s RavenCage Magazine and many other magazines and newspapers. She has actively participated in many competitions, won high ranks and many prizes. She is still busy creating.

 

CREATURE IS A PAIN

What is creativity, the truth I have come to understand is creativity.  I did not feel pain when I took a pen in my hand and wrote without understanding.  Maybe someone can say “He eats his parents’ money, what he earns, he plays, laughs and runs” But the trials of life make a person grow up early.  I have faced various obstacles in previous competitions.  My days of depression are over.  My days of crying are over.  Seeing my suffering, my parents cheered me up.  But I have this opinion: God says, “Work from you, blessing from me.” Our people say, “Go for what you desire.” If I try with all my heart, I will achieve everything. 

      If there is no defeat, there is no development, rise, aspiration.  I thank defeat.  Defeat called me to fight, as they say, “The fallen cannot fight.”   Because my motto is: “One who knows how to recognize a winner must also know how to recognize a defeat.” Well, it won’t hurt me to participate in contests. Because I’m either a result-oriented student or an experienced one.  Because when I lose, I become motivated and strive more and more. 

      Creativity is a difficult path.  However, it calls a person to perfection.   A person takes away the pain in his heart and mind and reveals his secret to others.

      I won the 1st place in the province by memorizing about 200 gazals and 80 examples of classic literature in the competition “One hundred gazals – 100 jewels”. The gazals of Alisher Navoi, the Sultan of the Ghazal Estate, and the Shah and poet Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur easily opened the way for me to enter literature and creativity.  On the one hand, he encouraged me to follow in the footsteps of our grandfathers. Now I am creating a poem by memorizing the verses of our grandfathers. I will not stop striving for it! For my parents,  I thank God for my teachers, for the clear sky and for our President Shavkat Mirziyoyev. We stand in the field of literature and creativity to justify the trust of you, the country, the people. Because, dear ones, as Abdulla Qahhor said, “Literature is stronger than atoms.”   

DILBAR KOLDOSHYEVA’S DAUGHTER Student of the 10th “B” class of the 43rd school of Karshi district.

Dilbar Koldoshova Nuraliyevna was born on March 5, 2007 in the Karshi district of the Kashkadarya region.  She is currently the 10th “B” student of the 43rd school.  Dilbarhan is the queen of poetry, the owner of creativity, a singer with a beautiful voice, and a ghazal girl.

      She came first in the “Leader of the Year” competition. 1st prize in the regional stage of the “Hundred Gazelles and Hundred Gems” competition. It took part in the “Children’s Forum” category and won first place in many competitions. She is currently the coordinator of the training department of Tallikuron MFY in Karshi district.

          Kamalak captain of the opposite district. Head captain of the “Girls There” club at school 43. The articles titled “Memory is immortal and precious”, “Our School” and “Mother” were published three times in Kenya Times International magazine in 2024.

     In 2023, the first poems were published in the poetry collection “Yulduzlar Yogdusi” of the creative youth of the Kashkadarya region. In 2024, ghazals of the creative youth of the Republic were published in the poetry collection “Youth of Uzbekistan”.

                                                                                                        

Not all people are the same, one of them is stupid and has no sense of anything, while the other understands life with his intelligence. embodied. He was able to gain a special position with his wisdom and intelligence. But the character of the young man lives in the image of a fool in the story. It is the character, behavior, and extreme curiosity of this character that makes one surprised by the fact that he listens to everyone’s words.

In terms of the content of the story, it is reminiscent of the Monkey and the Carpenter fairy tale, the monkey, who did not know why he chose to chop wood, eventually perishes. Therefore, every step taken without a purpose makes a person a fool. Every book taken from the library is capable of making one wiser. But people should not stop because I am a fool. They say that the mind is not for sale in the market, or that the mind is not in the age, so everyone should not complain about the lack of mind, but look for it. The story is ours.
The measure of the mind is the word, the measure of words is proverb.

Reminds us that and points out that we should say each word after seven measures.

Rashidova Shahrizoda Zarshidovna 2010-
in Karakol district of Bukhara region where she was born. Currently, she is a 7th grade student of the 20th school in the district.
In 2023, the year of the Young Reader competition, she was the winner of the stage. Sozim and Sozim homeland, we bow to those who know you,” I I will do everything,” Kamalak stars like Bilimdon 2018 and Zakovat, she was the first prize winner in competitions.
Her works were published in publishers such as Just Fistition Edition and Lulu German and British publishers Rashidova Shahrizoda Zarshidovna Covered in Ezgulik newspaper. Her stories are in Wikipedia open encyclopedia and one is in several anthologies, including My goals sari, creators of New Uzbekistan published in collections. Currently she’s on the Youth of Barkamol Avlod Children’s School pen club and Ilhom club azoi.. The first flight of the artist is her new book.

Bad Craziness Rising

Walking into the Cosmos Bar

In Soi Cowboy in Bangkok

The City of Lost Angels.

That nefarious den

of iniquity and evilness

Twenty drinks too sober.

I sat down at that bar

Watching the mad scene unfold

The naked ladies dancing.

Drinking one scotch, one bourbon

And one Singha beer.

With my buddies.

the whole motley

Jack Daniels crew.

Drinking with Mr. Baker Beam, Jim Beam, Mr. Blanton

Mr. Booker, Elijah Craig, Jack Daniels

George Dickel, Thomas H. Handy, Basil Haydens

Henry McKenna, Old Mr. Forester, Mr. Jameson

Mr. Nester, David Nichols, Benjamin Prichard,

George T. Stagg, Colonel E.H. Taylor,

Johny Walker, Evans Williams, William Larue Weller

W.L. Weller Pappy Van Winkle, and his old  Grand Dad.

The scent of bad craziness

Hung in the air like

A sexed-up durian fruit.

an over-ripe mango girl

Desperately seeking to have sex

With wild, dressed-up bananas

Running around with the Orange Man.

Down the Street,

the Moon, looks out on the mad scene

Sniffs the air, saying,

“Man, this is bad craziness”

And runs away to join her lover the Sun

In an orgy of drunken forgetfulness

The Planet Mars, not amused, chases after the maiden Venus

Under the cold, calculating glances of the Planet Pluto

The Moon and the Sun rent a room in the Hotel Venus

Across from the Jupiter All Night Diner

Cosmic shit kickers, out for a night of Earth bashing

The Earth trembles, shaken

Moans with passion, and I awake

Saying, that was bad craziness.

Out there on the edge

Between the inner me and the outer zone

I went on down that road heading to hell

Just as fast as I could drink it all down.

And met me a lady, an outlaw lady on the far side.

Money, power, and passion rolled up in a bundle

Electric chemistry fills my head,

Zapping my brain into demented muscles

As I give in to the

“bao bao ya yah Madi “ madness

Bad craziness overwhelmed me.

All around me.

As paranoid, pulsating images scream out

With mad passion, and demented noises

The night turns ugly fast

And very, very weird

Weirdness in the air

The scent of bad craziness.

As the wild things come out to play.

The moon is freaked out

The Sun falls asleep in the gutter

And I say to myself, I’m just another cosmic Guy

On the loose, on the edge, on the wild side of things

Watching the show unfold, I wonder,

Is this all nothing but a cosmic drunken bum show?

Who is the star, who is she – the naked maiden up there in the bar

Black, leather jackets on stage naked visions of nightly lust

Dancing with an attitude that could kill an elephant in heat

And the Moon continues to dance across the evening sky

Satisfied, allows mankind to sleep it off.

Yet another night in the city of demented lunatic hell’s angels

Finally, rest as the sun comes up casting its evil eye over the sleeping city

Dispelling the bad craziness for a spell.

Blasting the wild things back to hell.

The masks come back on

And I walk down the road

Putting everything back into the box.

Until the next night of bad craziness

Let’s the wild beast within

Escape its leash.

Bad craziness rising yet again.

+


What  child ?

   I Am  Borne
      Before During & After 
Always
   & Forever 

Why  Child ?

   Yes ,  Speak and receive .
Every Step Begins .

   As pollen upon the 
                wind 
Unforgotten as rains
   drench the reaching
            upstart .
And cries above ending
   find a sky full of Life

                                                        ......................


Completed November 23, 2024
    Saturday evening 
by  John Edward Culp 

Freedom’s Embrace

In the quiet dawn, where dreams reside,

Freedom dances on the wings of the tide.

Her touch is light, yet strong and true,

A gift for all, for me, for you.

She whispers peace in every land,

Binding nations hand in hand.

No chains to break, no walls to build,

With love and hope, the heart is filled.

Respect blooms in Freedom’s light,

Uniting souls, both day and night.

In every word, in every choice,

She lifts the world, gives all a voice.

For Freedom thrives where love is found,

Where hearts are free, unbound, unbound.

In unity, the world can see,

That peace and love are truly free.

So let us cherish, let us guard,

This gift so precious, yet so hard.

For in her arms, the world will find,

A future bright, for all mankind.

Maja Milojković was born in 1975 in Zaječar, Serbia. She is a person to whom from an early age, Leonardo da Vinci’s statement “Painting is poetry that can be seen, and poetry is painting that can be heard” is circulating through the blood. That’s why she started to use feathers and a brush and began to reveal the world and herself to them. As a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and foreign literary newspapers, anthologies and electronic media, and some of her poems can be found on YouTube. Many of her poems have been translated into English, Hungarian, Bengali and Bulgarian due to the need of foreign readers. She is the recipient of many international awards. “Trees of Desire” is her second collection of poems in preparation, which is preceded by the book of poems “Moon Circle”. She is a member of the International Society of Writers and Artists “Mountain Views” in Montenegro, and she also is a member of the Poetry club “Area Felix” in Serbia.

Rembrandt                                                                                       

That day alone in Amsterdam, boats, bicycles, glimpses of tiny de Hooch courtyards and everywhere, tall thin houses reflected in canals, after Van Gogh, the Night Watch and many weeping Mary Magdalenes witnessing Descents from the Cross, I pass through the Red-Light District, ordinary and lethargic in daylight, elicit turning matter of fact; a few women in their windows yawn, sip coffee to begin their day; the pungent aroma of Mary Jane is pumped into immaculate alleys; on an impulse, I buy a little, fat and happy Hotei in the open-air market.

Eventually, I find the green shutters, my destination, Rembrandt’s house, and admire what he admired: seashells, swords, helmets, bones, busts and books. In his studio, it’s as if he stepped out for a moment, powdered pigments readied for grinding into walnut and linseed oils. Up the narrow staircase, on the middle floor for the group tour, a pleasant young woman inks and rolls his image through a wooden press.

In an odd tourist’s transference, we fall into a conversation over etching, Rembrandt and Amsterdam. She lightly touches my arm and offers me a generous smile and a print from the Master. I think I would very much like to kiss her, and I’m fairly certain she’d return the affection. Occasionally, I find myself missing her: we would live in a modest houseboat, skirmish over Dutch and American politics, pull prints all day from Rembrandt’s press, make love in Rembrandt’s bed. Instead, upon my return to Ohio, I send her one of my prints and, rightly so, never hear from her again.

David Sapp, danieldavidart@gmail.com 

Biographical Information: David Sapp, writer, artist, and professor, lives along the southern shore of Lake Erie in North America. A Pushcart nominee, he was awarded Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Grants for poetry and the visual arts. His poetry and prose appear widely in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom. His publications include articles in the Journal of Creative Behavior, chapbooks Close to Home and Two Buddha, a novel Flying Over Erie, and a book of poems and drawings titled Drawing Nirvana.