Angel of Mercy

Mother is so great that no words can describe her. No one in the world can give the love that a mother gives. Because mother has a special magic that no other person has. Mother night - that day lives as my child. She raises us, washes and combs white, is ready to give up even her own sweet soul. Many poems and songs have been written about mothers. Tears come to the eyes after hearing them. A person who has a mother is the happiest person in the world. We may not be able to return the good things that mother has done to us in both worlds. 

Respect for our honorable and dear mothers in our country is boundless. An example of this is the widespread celebration of international Women's Day on March 8.

In honor of mothers, O'tkir Hashimov created the work "The affairs of the world" in honor of mothers. This is one of my favorite books l've ever read. In this century, O'tkir Hashimov wrote mainly about his mother.

Lola Hotamova was born on May 7,2009 in the village of Khanabad, Bukhara region. She studies in the 8th grade of the 43rd general education school in Jondor district. Poems of the young poetess were first published in 2019 in the "Zhondor ovozi" newspaper. Later, she began to appear in newspapers and magazines such as " Gulkhan", "Ezgulik", " Yangiyer tongi", " Bilimdon", "Smile". Her books "Source of power", "I love my country", "Shy rabbit" have been published.

✨🌹Looking for Mother🌹✨

My thoughts are towards you from evening to morning,
My tongue will be with you even from poison,
From such a city that lights up at night,
The burning eye weeps in thought,
I looked for you with all my heart, mother.

Without you, my days seem to be dreary,
Hasn't luck turned around,
Everything that appears is just a dream,
A butterfly on your sunbul hair,
I looked for you with all my heart, mother.

At night, I wait without closing my eyes,
Sometimes the coral floats or swallows pains,
Maybe these days will pass in one pass,
I'll meet someone as beautiful as you.
I looked for you with all my heart, mother.

A white scarf was left hanging,
Without you, I'm even taller
Come on, ask me what's wrong?
Looking at your picture, the heart cares,
I looked for you with all my heart, mother.

Alisherovna Orzigul 

sadness becomes loneliness
 

it's the

laugh,

 

the gentle

i love you

late at night,

 

the warm

embrace

 

and suddenly

remembering

how many years

it's actually been

 

how the touch

of a woman is

nearly foreign

to you now

 

hopeless should

never come up

when you think

about sex

 

sadness becomes

loneliness before

you even realize

 

the world has

left you behind
--------------------------------------------------------------
start the weekend
 

a

thunderstorm

before the

morning

coffee

 

not exactly

how i wanted

to start the

weekend

 

but you're

old enough

now to know

you don't get

to choose such

things

 

your place in

life doesn't

allow it
--------------------------------------------------------
two vapid souls
 

shuffling down

the boulevard

a skeleton of

a man

 

thinning goatee

and hollow eyes

 

holding hands

with his woman

 

a soul crushing

blonde light years

out of his league

 

most assume there

are two reasons

why she is with

him

 

girth and wealth

 

most assumptions

are true more than

we actually realize

 

two vapid souls

searching for a

better tomorrow

 

if such a thing

even still fucking

exists
---------------------------------------------------------
a zombie apocalypse
 

the muse believes

she can't trust me

during a zombie

apocalypse

 

that makes me

laugh

 

she apparently

doesn't understand

that i will be dead

before any of that

ever happens

 

zombies, an apocalypse,

or a glorious heel turn

 

more pressing matters

are at hand as usual

 

like rent, taxes, a check

engine light that always

seems to come on at the

least opportune times

 

not to even mention

where one might be

able to find some

non-toxic land to

grow food or

whatever else
---------------------------------------------------------------------
a soft rain in the sunshine
 

two loose shits

within five minutes

of waking up

 

jack daniels for

dinner strikes

again

 

a stray cat comes

to our backyard

looking for birds

or some food

 

luck never appears

in this damn town

 

a soft rain in the

sunshine

 

a lonely woman

wonders of a better

way to die

 

here comes a daydream

meant for a better soul

 

the cocaine always runs

out on a tuesday night

 

right as she starts to feel

ok with doing it for money

once again
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Black Coffee Review and The Asylum Floor. Rumor has it that he might have a joint chapbook coming out this summer with Casey Renee Kiser. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Love

The soft chirping of birds and beautiful trees added beauty to the quiet and cool avenue.  A handsome young man, who was known to be intelligent in appearance, sat down next to a girl he had known for a long time, and looked her in the eyes and said:
– I love you very much. I want to spend my whole life with you, greet the morning with you every day, share every joy with you, be a partner in your joys and sorrows.  Insha’Allah we will be the happiest couple in the world together, he said with tears in his eyes.
  Unfortunately, the girl could neither see this guy nor his tears…

A “fair” world

    Aunt Tatiana missed her daughter Anna very much after dinner and decided to write her a letter.  The sound of the wind could be heard outside.  Aunt Tatiana sat down by the burning stove and began to write a letter:

 – My daughter Anna, I miss you very much.  You know, when you were little, you always followed me, and in the evenings you said, “Oh, sleep with me. I’m so scared without you.”  In the cold winter nights, I would tell you interesting tales and stories, and you would fall asleep listening to them.  Especially after your father’s death, you became very attached to me, my daughter.  And I could not imagine my life without you.  I felt that without you, this world seems to me like a room without a door or a window.  And you have grown up, you have become a sharp minded girl.  Do you remember when you first stepped into school, I said if you get good grades, I’ll get you a doll you like.  And this innocent soul of yours would have a crush on that doll and every day you would get excellent grades and come home happy.  The joy shining in your eyes when you graduated from school and entered college is still in front of my eyes like it was yesterday.  You looked at me and said, “Hey, look, I’ve taken the first step towards my dreams. I’m going to be a famous lawyer in the future, honey. I’m going to do my best to bring justice to the world and fight for the truth.”  That moment is still forever etched in my mind.  You were the owner of an innocent and pure heart.  My daughter, you loved tulips very much.  This spring, I would like to go to the mountain with you and pick many tulips for you, to be next to me as before, to hold you in my arms, to see your smiling innocent eyes, my daughter.

   Aunt Tatiana said so and decided to send this letter to her daughter by post tomorrow.

   Unfortunately, it has been three years since that terrible and tragic car accident happened in Anna’s life when she was 18 years old…

   The dreams of a young and innocent girl turned into a dream.  His pure dreams did not fit into this “fair” world…

Sadullayeva Darmonjon was born in 2002 in Khiva, Khorezm region. She is currently a third-year student of the Uzbek language education at Urgench State University.

More than 15 scientific articles have been published in international journals and conferences such as  “Science and Innovation”, “Young Academic”, “XXL”, “Scientific Approach to the Modern Education System”, ” Google scholar” . Her creative works were  published in the newspaper “Ezgu Soz” and in the anthology “Builders of the Future”. She considered member of the International Organization ” All India Council for Technical Skill Development” too.

🌹Isn't she an ANGEL OF HEAVEN!🌹

   Brought spring to the gardens,
   The moon was shining in front of his child.
   The first song that he sang was divided by the gods,
   Isn't our soul a bond, woman?
   Isn't she an angel of heaven?

      A woman is the light of our house, the blooming flower of our garden, the angel of our house. A woman is a masterpiece among the blessings created by God!

       In fact, Allah took the beauty from the moon shining in the sky, the eyebrows and eyelashes from the dark night, the eyes from the stars, the language from the nightingale, the willow tree from the willow, the delicacy from the flower, and the love from the ocean, and created a perfect unity and named it woman.

    A woman is a great creature who took care of her child in her body for nine months and gave her life.
     So what is happiness for a woman?

     A woman who carries a child and caressing her little body with love is the happiest woman in the world. A woman who devotes herself to her little girl and sews dresses with her hardworking hands, there is no happier person than her. If you give a woman a sweet word and something to cheer her up, she will consider herself happy.

    Let's pay attention to these sentences of Tursunoy Sadygova about women: "A woman is not a woman, but a flower that always trembles in the cave called the wind, in the stormy season called the family, and still spreads its beautiful flowers."

   A woman is indeed a flower. Dear friends, let's try to describe a woman as a crimson blooming rose. The red color in the flower is the redness on the face of an Uzbek woman, that is, her modesty, ibo. The expression radiating from the flower is endless love from the ocean, which never ends, no matter how much it costs. Its strong body that climbs to the heights is its lifelong friend, that is, its life partner. Green leaves are shared by the people and relatives, and the thorns in it are a weapon against the sufferings and injustices in life. are the children of...

Ismailova Orastabonu is the daughter of Navruz, a 10th grade student of the 13th general secondary school of Kasbi district, Kashkadarya region.

 

Fruit Salad

"I remember what it was like," recalled Beth softly, speaking to her daughter, "when I had someone."

Deb peered at her mom with concern. It wasn't often that the older woman assumed a mantle of self-pity or showed signs of melancholy. "You've got me, Mom," she said hopefully.

"You know what I mean," protested Beth. "I think kids nowadays call it a 'significant other.'" Deb nodded. "Or maybe you don't know," suggested Beth. "You're only nineteen. Maybe you haven't experienced..."

"I know what you mean, Mom," said Deb, cutting her off. "I've had boyfriends - and lovers." Beth looked at her, as though for the first time.

"Yes," she murmured thoughtfully. "Yes, of course you have." Deb was indeed a beautiful girl, as well as a lovely person. The bright spot in Beth's life.

Deb suddenly felt a pang of guilt, just for having a normal life and regular relationships, while her mom was distraught. And lonely. Beth's husband - Deb's father - had died three years before in an automobile accident, which had left Beth bound to a walker. She leaned over the aluminum frame now, placed her coffee cup into the dishwasher.

"You need to get out, Mom," Deb said yet again, "and meet people. Maybe find a boyfriend," she added with a gentle smile.

Beth snorted softly. "Lots of men looking for a chick that they can take out, maybe go dancing, cycling, roller blading in the park," said Beth wryly. "It would work out beautifully."

Deb's face fell. "Mom! Not everyone wants a dance partner or a jogger or a bike rider for a companion. You've got a lot to offer. You're gorgeous, and you're just 39. Not everyone is an ableist, not everyone is hypercritical or wants to fix you!"

Beth merely nodded, unconvinced. They'd had this conversation umpteen times before.

Deb glanced at her phone. "I've got to get to class," she said, gathering up her school books.

"And I have to shop for groceries," remembered her mother, walking to the parson's table in the hallway to retrieve her keys. "Will you be home for supper, or do you have a date with a significant other?" she asked, smiling with love at her daughter.

At the market, Beth piloted an electric cart through the aisles of the store, pausing to snatch items from low-lying shelves. sometimes using her reacher-grabber to seize items higher up. Moving rapidly through the grocery, she came to the produce section and grabbed navel oranges from a bin. Misjudging the distance to her cart, she dropped the fruit and it rolled merrily away. "Shit!" she said crossly, tracking the path of the oranges with her eyes.

"I got it!" said a man huskily, stooping to pick up the orange globes. "Here you are," he said, handing the fruit to Beth. She smiled her gratitude. Pausing for a moment, he asked her, "Are you new?"

She blinked. "No, not really," she said, "I'm nearly forty."

It was his turn to blink, then he grinned. "Good one!" he said. "I mean, I haven't seen you here before, have I?" She looked at him for the first time. He was tall - six feet - and slender, had graying dark hair. And he seemed perfectly pleasant. What did he want? she wondered.

"I usually just shop on weekends," she explained briefly.

He nodded. "My name is John," he said.

"Beth," she introduced herself. They shook. His hand felt warm.

"Well, listen, when you get your shopping done, if you like, I can help you put your groceries in your car - if you like."

She stiffened just a bit. "Thanks, John, but I always get one of the boys to do it; it's their job, you know?"

He immediately nodded. "I understand. I didn't mean to overstep, Beth." He seemed embarrassed. "I'll be seeing you," he said, and in a flash, he was gone.

Beth frowned. He was only being helpful, she told herself. He didn't mean any harm. "Shit!" she said again.

 

Beth stood in her kitchen, putting away the items she'd just purchased, when her landline rang; unlike her daughter, she eschewed cell phones. It had been a careless motorist's use of such an instrument which had resulted in the tragedy which cost the life of her husband - and had put her in shackles. Walking to the counter, she picked up the receiver and said hello.

"Hi, Mom," said Deb, speaking very rapidly. "I'll be home for supper, like I said, but I want to know, is it alright if I bring two people with?"

"Of course. Of course," said Beth. "Are they friends of yours?"

"Well, sorta. They're students in my writing class and we're working on a project together and we wanted to meet tonight. I thought we could just meet for supper, if that's okay?"

"Not a problem, baby," Beth assured her. "Do they like fried chicken?"

"Who doesn't?" replied Deb. "We'll be over about four, work, then have supper, and then go back to work."

"See you later, baby," said Beth, secretly pleased to interact with other people for a change.

 

The "children," as Beth thought of them, worked steadily from 4pm until supper time, at which point Beth summoned them to dinner. As they filed around the dining room table, Beth was taken aback. In addition to the 20-year-old blond girl that Deb introduced as Stephani, was a man who turned out to be none other than John, the helpful stranger from Kroger's. Beth took a moment to absorb the coincidence, but John was not at all discomfited.

"Beth!" he exclaimed happily. Beth smiled.

"You two know each other?" asked Deb, pointing at them both.

"I met your mom at the grocery store," explained John loquaciously. "She was tossing around navel oranges," he added with a smile. After explanations were tendered, they sat down to eat. Stephani and John were uncommonly gracious, entertaining guests and Beth found herself immersed in a warm camaraderie. John, as it turned out, despite his prematurely graying brows, was but 33 years old, an older student due to six years spent in the Air Force, and he was majoring in engineering. He and Beth were almost palpably struck by a connection to one another. Moreover, he seemed to consider her disability not at all. A good time was had by all. Over the next several weeks, John ventured several times to Beth's home to work on the project with Deb and Stephani. He stayed for dinner twice more and one time took "the girls" out to dinner at a nice restaurant, his treat. He was solicitous of Beth, but not hovering, and even liked the same foods that she did. At evening's end, she found her face fatigued from the endless smiling.

"What is this project you all are working on?" asked Beth curiously one night.

"It's the Magnum," replied Stephani at once. "We're editing the college literary journal this semester; you know, Deb and I are creative writing majors, and..."

"But," interrupted Beth, "I thought you were studying engineering," she said, turning to John.

"I've got a minor in creative writing," offered John, taking up the thread. "They say people with technical skills often don't know how to effectively communicate with others," he explained. "I've found it a very useful experience."

Beth smiled warmly, a gesture which Deb caught. She, in turn, smiled with pleasure.

 

Two nights later, John called Beth and asked if he could come over. At odds with herself, she said yes. When he arrived, he carried with him two bottles of sangria, Beth's favorite; how had he known that? she wondered. Sitting in the living room before the muted television, they toasted everyone they ever knew. They discussed everything: school, relationships, work, you name it. Finally, the evening began to wind down, much to Beth's dismay.

"I've got to get going," murmured John. Beth glanced at the clock on the wall: 1:15.

"Are you okay to drive?" she asked. He assured her that he was. "Oh, well, I'm sorry to see you go, John," she said in an inebriated voice. "I've really enjoyed your company," she added, wondering if John would think her a lush.

Without warning, John leaned in and kissed Beth on the lips. It fairly took her breath away. Then he did so again and she opened her mouth and savored the kiss. It had been so long since she had been kissed like this. As she struggled to catch her breath, he leaned in and kissed her once more, rubbing his fingers lightly over her breasts. Beth lost all control, clutched John fiercely and kissed him back, passionately.

 

The next morning, John had arisen, dressed and departed even before Beth had regained awareness. She was dimly aware of being kissed as she slept. She wondered briefly if it had all been a dream. But then she saw the note. John had written a letter in what Beth thought was beautiful penmanship, and attached it, in a gesture of whimsy, to her walker. In the missive. he thanked her for "a remarkable evening" and hoped that she had a wonderful day.

All day long, Beth wondered at the nature of Deb's relationship with her new love interest, John. Love interest? she asked herself. Was she kidding? No, she decided, she was not. As they stood about the table, setting places for dinner, Beth snuck a look at her daughter.

"Could I ask you something, honey?" she asked. "Something... personal?"

Deb glanced up. "Sure, Mom."

"Have you ever... been intimate with John?" inquired her mother with growing trepidation.

Deb said nothing at first, then she replied, "Yes."

Beth felt everything she had built up in her mind come crashing down on her.

"Mom," said Deb, "I'm sorry...."

"Don't be ridiculous," said her mother hastily. "You're a young and beautiful and desirable woman, in your prime. What man wouldn't want you?" Damn it, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. "If he hadn't wanted you, I would worry about John," she added.

"It was only the one time, though," said Deb. "Last year. It was nothing; I mean, we're friends, but we're not... intimate... anymore." Staring down at the table, Beth only nodded. "Okay?" asked her daughter.

Beth glanced up now, nodded again. "Okay, baby. Thank you for your honesty."

 

Beth reconnoitered with John several more times in the ensuing weeks, though they were not again intimate. Beth wondered at that, considered procuring birth control, which she hadn't accessed for years. Sometimes, the "children" worked in the living room and Beth and John met afterward for wine; Deb seemed fine with it and Beth, so desperate for company, put to the back of her mind the idea that her paramour was perhaps a player, and had already achieved what he had sought. They still enjoyed one another's company, however. Things proceeded apace, until they didn't. One day, Beth's mind swooned as she did a home pregnancy test.

 

"Abortions are still legal in this state - for now," added John, looking solicitously at Beth. They were seated at the kitchen table one morning; Beth had asked him to drop by after class.

"I know all about women's reproductive rights," muttered Beth unhappily. "And I'm not interested." It had been nearly six weeks since her one night of intimacy with John; now she was torn.

"How would you possibly carry a baby to term, then care for it, for - the next eighteen years?" he asked, endeavoring to be 'reasonable.' "I mean, you're..."

"Disabled?" she completed his sentence.

"That's not what I was going to say," he protested unconvincingly.

"It was all impromptu, if you'll recall," she said ruefully. "But in retrospect, had I thought of it, I suppose I had some notion that the baby's father would in some way be involved," ventured Beth. What he observed on John's face did not make her happy. She saw goodbye.

"I can't do this, Beth," said John, raising his hands to shoulder level, palms out, and rising to his feet. "I'm going to graduate in a year and then, who knows what happens? Job opportunities in engineering exist world-wide. I can't commit to staying in Chicago, or anywhere else. You understand, don't you?"

"Maybe you should have suited up prior to going into battle," suggested Beth wryly. "It's like you didn't consider the consequences of your actions."

"Well," he came back at her, "if you'd been on the pill..."

"I hadn't had sex in three years," she said a little shrilly. "I thought I'd never make love again. Then you rode in on your white charger and showed me how everything could be different!" Tears were seeping from her eyes now. This was just too much, she thought, drawing her fingers to her lips. The lips that John had kissed.

John turned and made for the door to the kitchen. Deb, standing outside, had heard everything. He met her on his way out.

"I'll call you about the project," he told her gruffly.

She stared at him. "Go. Fuck. Yourself." she said in reply. He left without another word.

After John had departed, Deb and Beth sat at the kitchen table, Deb with a glass of wine, Beth with a decaffeinated cola. They sat in companionable silence for some time, until at length, Deb spoke.

"You're still a young woman, Mom," she said. Beth stared at her. "We're in this together," Deb added. "Next time, though," she said.

Beth looked at her daughter. "Yes?" she asked.

"Pick up your own damn oranges." Together, they laughed.

Think About It

Turning myself inside out
for you

so you can sniff and contemplate
if I'm worth a smoke

all my jokes
meaning more than tears

and you're beginning to understand
my love is beyond endless and more

faithfull
as the spin of the earth and beat of stars

so come
and make us as one....



A Way Home

Let's run together
quick step and jump holding hands
over this nervous world

sun tanning our bare backs and rumps
easy breathing and laughing
with no fear

we will be like children
long before the aging of flowers
their scent stopping time in awe

so smack your lips
we're going to kiss
a sugar dream

lasting forever!



Flight

In the air
floating

I'm your hero
and you're my Goddess

clouds soft
stopping when we want
lying upon them

sunset's far reaching fingertips of warmth
we dance naked
into a night sky of teasing stars.



Created

And when our dreams melt
we will float in the sea
under the night with the coming dawn

I seeing you and you seeing me
soon in heaven
where we were created to be.


Stephen Jarrell Williams can be found on X Twitter @papapoet