Aziza Mamayusupovna Kosimova
Student of Termiz State Pedagogical Institute
"Life."
Picking up the sustenance in this perishable world,
I shall increase my God-given share.
One day I will arrive and go on my eternal journey,
I should live in the poems I write...
Let no one hear my words,
Let my little tears wash over my face,
If I wash my eye one day,
I must live in the poems I write...
I have never lived a day when I have seen injustice,
I didn't live the day when I was walking
I did not live the day when my heart raced,
I have to live in the poems I write...
If I can make you awake,
If my poem makes me think,
To revel in my poems,
Maybe I'll have my life to live in Your heart...!
************
I have not said a word for several months, the paperwork is empty.
In my heart are the rivers of sadness.
A feather in my hand and my hearts are always silent.
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
Opponent always had a blue board,
The breast of the shield was red with blood,
And Abdullah grew in you a fighter.
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
Who has come and made presence,
In the steps of the prophets Sultan Saodatlar,
You have been sung by Master Shafoatar,
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
Baysun - Spring, you are a pure air,
You are the Voice of the worlds
The South! You are the gateway to paradise
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
You are my prideful mountain, my vibrant stream,
The air is clean, the land is gold, my place is rich in gold.
One piece is worth a whole world, I art golden,
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
Is Sariosia the origin of Asia?!
Do not the swallows belong to Barchina?!
Do your springs have no tears?!
Join my verse, Surkhandarya.
There is no grand longing for the homeland,
From the minor of Jharkurgan there is no elevation,
Not Even Sayrob, who started a school,
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
Are enough of my words sufficient for you?
If I can make your descriptions a world epos,
The heart inspired by you is a garden,
Join my poem, Surkhandarya.
A heart of a poet is a wonderful place for feelings,
With my own word I shall defeat confusion.
God, don't take away the magic of words in my heart
As I live, I will praise my country!
XXI century: is it possible to raise responsible children?
As a result of the speeding up of time and the development of science and technology, today there is probably not a single house in the world where gadgets have not penetrated. Earlier, there was only one television set in one house, but today there is a separate television set for each room of the house, Wi-Fi, and smartphones and additional gadgets are widely used for each member of the house. Humanity, as we know it, seems to have somehow migrated to technology. When your loved one is sick, instead of visiting them, you start asking about the situation over the phone, citing various reasons. There is no limit to the use of a mobile device in your child's daily schedule, which means that he can use the phone when he wants, as he wants.
Try to remember the children of not so long ago, 10 years ago. We were the last group of children who thought like children, played with toys, and never got tired of chasing after the ball. Now, as soon as the baby cries, they give him a phone, as if the pain of the parents is reduced when he stops crying. This naturally turns the phone into a calming tool for the child. If the phone does not hang up, it becomes a habit to keep crying. If parents read books to their children, plant them together, organize trips, often visit their relatives' houses, wait for guests, give the child easy tasks and attract him to a specific direction, then surely such a child will not become a slave to the phone in the future. At a time when the virtual world is attracting all of us, it will definitely bring good results in the future to use it purposefully, to spend the most necessary part of our time not with gadgets, but with effective tools. It doesn't matter what era you live in, the most important thing is that humanity should not become dependent on what it has created, but rather, a person should not stop learning, developing, and creating.
Author: Ravshanbekova Asalkhon
Uzbekistan
***
the bird accidentally dropped the heart and broke it on the rocks
¶
heaven turned inside out and swallowed the rain
~
my mother did not return from work and became a seagull in the eyes of the beholder
±
the house turned into the wind and rushed away with turmoil
.
a lot has changed since the beginning of the last war
…
***
Babies in the sun… A lemon-yellow lake with a dusty children’s bed… By burning the colors drawn in the mind in this way – scary, but at the same time kind, merciful, kind, soft – he brings clouds of darkness into the world.
***
On a piece of unexpected despair
Searching for the source of the pain
Tearing out of the body either the heart or the liver
Be an ataria be an ataria
***
Girl watching from the window
The girl is watching from the eye
Girl watching the window
The window is watching the girl
Parallel lines do intersect
In infinity,
a star rises to the sky ... A round stone vault comes close to her, and the girl understands that before her is not fear, but something else ... She recognizes the night sky, huge, illuminated by stars, the forest, raindrops on the branches and everything that connected to him.
***
girl asks her mother to become a priest
but the priest is a man
girl asks her husband not to go to war
but the war has already come to their house
girl crying
the girl does not ask for anything
the girl has nothing to ask
***
the cat walks along the cemetery of smiles
the mimicry of memory plays the piano of silence
four-legged foyer of the human soul in search of the owner of the hotel of death
what will a cat find in a place where there is nothing
the grave exists for the sake of absence
memory exists in the form of an absence
flowers of dead views grow near the monuments
the trees sway their leaves and drop their leaves down to die
crunch of foliage-bones under the cat's paw
cat childishly playing with a leaf
adult cat plays with someone's soul
the wrong side of the universe in the cemetery
the cat freezes and calms down
the cat falls asleep among the graves
a leaf that has fallen from a tree whispers a request for help to the wind
***
Every morning
I suck my rifle's dick like
Тhere was no war
***
i want oratorio gas
i want to catch the color corpse syntax
I want the tree to get hurt from the leaves of a famous herb
GRASS is glass
GRASS is a house where you are expected
at dawn in the forest we collect the guts of the dead soldiers
at dawn in the forest we collect the rustle of dead leaves
***
i hate things because they can be missing
I hate things because they may not live
red
a black swan swims up and waves its wing branch
blue
white air is transparent and pure
black conscience is empty and transparent
оrange
more than anything in the world I love porn actors and when world-famous directors die
***
The knot on the neck of the rope is compressed
The crunch of bones that cannot be filled with any passion
Someone in a golden gaze mask stands by a silver fire
Someone pours semen on the mint from which we were born
The latex of the night sky puckers at the hips
A casual smile puffs with mystery
The heather rises up like a phallus
The clouds part in front of a couple in love with life
***
stone-ruin instead of houses
houses built of stone became ordinary stones
back to the stones that started it all
be patient and silent like stones
be a stone
soldier sucks blowjob with his gun
time to change and grab shovels
***
she was called narnia
the word was hung with thorns of roses
the word was broken on the air spaces
of people
weighty
rises up the bell without hearing
an eye without a miracle a word without a voice
where are we flying?
she was called narnia
every time I go to the zoo I skip three lines in a poem
once
two
three
to make sure that in front of me is the same lion
that this is the same world in which you want to escape from reality
***
The grains of the hourglass tomb are strained
Glory to you death - a non-existent evil wizard screamed wildly
All wizards are actually kind
But what is it? —
The thorns of the flower on the body left spots
They called on purpose tears
And there is no one to devote tears
Oh if tears were words
Chronicle of wet fingers cancels this course of events
Draw your swords
Evil wizards exist - we will look for them in the forests
In villages and farms
In texts and prayers
In yourself and others
And when we meet birds on the way
Then the birds will shout that it is empty inside and out -
Inside and out, for all these years of wandering and wandering
the wizard died
Mykyta Ryzhykh
Winner of the international competition «Art Against Drugs», bronze medalist of the festival Chestnut House, laureate of the literary competition named after Tyutyunnik. Nominated for Pushcart Prize. Published in the journals “Dzvin”, “Ring A”, “Polutona”, “Rechport”, “Topos”, “Articulation”, “Formaslov”, “Colon”, “Literature Factory”, “Literary Chernihiv”, Tipton Poetry Journal , Stone Poetry Journal, Divot journal , dyst journal, Superpresent Magazine, Allegro Poetry Magazine, Alternate Route , Better Than Starbucks Poetry & Fiction Journal, Littoral Press , Book of Matches , on the portals “Literary Center” and “Soloneba”, in the “Ukrainian literary newspaper”, Ice Floe Press.
Mom...
If my head bows near the enemies.
they took away my rights.
I am left alone,
I am speechless...
Don't cry just looking at me, mother...
One day will come,
I believe it will be a bright day. Everyone respects me and loves me.
Then I will be your proud child. Don't cry just looking at me mom...
Well, whatever we say,
I'm your unlucky daughter.
You call me a flower, you call me a moon face, but I am not like that.
I look beautiful only in your eyes.
Just don't hide from me and cry, mom...
Munavvar Boltayeva
Uzbekistan
WHEN DREAMS TURN into GOALS
Every person is born and begins to live with their dreams and hopes. Thanks to these dreams, people understand why they came to life and try to change themselves. When do dreams turn into goals? When we truly desire our goals, take the time to reach them, and chase them wholeheartedly, our dreams will surely turn into goals. A person without a goal never moves, he gets stuck in one place. A dream is only our desire, the purpose is to pursue it. Every A person who is determined and active achieves success. After reaching his goals, his self-confidence increases and he always looks to the future. A person with a clear goal is not afraid of falling in life, even if he falls, he gets up and starts walking towards his goals. The essence of life is to fall seven times and get up eight times. Always remember to turn your dreams into goals. Dreams only exist in dreams, their realization is shown with a goal, that is, our goals lead to results. Get motivation from successful people, exchange ideas with them, it's up to you to change your life. Always look at life with a smile. The key to success is in your hands. The whole world is with you. It's time to act.. .
QURBONOVA GULSANAM was born on April 16, 2006 in Dehkhanabad district of Kashkadarya region. She is currently a grade 10 student at school number 68 in Dehkhanabad district and is proud of the regional German language. She has also achieved many results in sports, table tennis, chess, checkers.
Sicario is a word used in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. It means “paid assassin” or “hitman”. As a movie title, it has nothing to do with what this film is about. To make a clearer mental image, imagine using the word “Cannibal” as a title for ‘’Silence of the Lambs” and prepare for 121 minutes of one of the darkest films of 2015.
Have you ever tried to capture the moment and use it as an anchor for what you plan to write?
This is what it feels like while describing what “Sicario” has done to me.
Sicario is a very visual movie, shot by none other than the brilliant cinematographer Roger Deakins who holds films like “Raising Arizona “, “The Shawshank Redemption”, “Fargo” and “No Country for Old Men” to his name. It might come off as another drug-cartel thriller, but “Sicario” reminisces on morality and how the world blurs the thin line between right and wrong, to the point of reaching an utterly bleak endnote, making for one thrill ride. Denis Villeneuve’s film doesn’t leave audiences with a rush of euphoria, but more like a burning sensation at the pit of the stomach.
Emily Blunt brilliantly and ephemerally portrays the role of Kate Macer, an idealist FBI agent who gets thrown into a world of drug cartels, assassinations, cold-blooded revenge, and senseless interrogation scenes. Macer’s world becomes turned upside down when she is chosen to join a task force for the war against drugs, and her whole existence is put on a stake.
How the film plays the female lead’s storyline is very sensitive to the nature of being a woman in the middle of a battlefield. Through her eyes, viewers judge the world she is naively thrust into. Macer explores herself and the male-dominated hostility that surrounds her presence. Viewers are introduced to a unique female protagonist; incapable of senseless violence but tough, humane yet detached. Macer bends the gender roles, she looks for fun through booze, a pack of smokes, and a one-night stand, yet as a woman her priority alternates between getting the job done and saving lives, following procedures, and maintaining a moral ground where there is none.
Villeneuve, with Deakins’s help, creates the tunnel infiltration scene like no other. He introduces audience members to the entire scene through two different perspectives. One is a green-tinted sequence, while the other is an infrared thermal imaging system that created a video game idea of a hunter seeking prey. Shot in black-and-white, where humans appear like negatives on a black screen. No sound is heard. It is just the agents, gun-pointing their way through the murky tunnels. Corpses are shown without a bit of humanity attached, their blood another shade of grey, which deprives the scene of emotionality. It’s an immoral, inhumane world. Human lives are not even questioned whether to be spared or not. How could the viewer sympathize with an action-adventure sequence that could easily play on their Xbox as a first-person shooter via twisted role-playing where they get to be the bad guy (or the cop) shooting nameless, mute targets?
How Macer is roughly handled also shows how disdainful most of her colleagues are towards her mere presence. She is seen as a joke, a pawn used by those hard-knuckled, shady people as means to their ends. When she is attacked by the man she picks at a bar and discovers he wasn’t after her –just using her to get to the big boys behind her- her look of disappointment captures the essence of her experience. The way her eyes register every single violation or atrocity allows the audience to get entangled with her point of view, self-righteous and monochrome at best, yet empathetic and empowered.
Using Macer’s relationship with the sicario, Alejandro –played to perfection by Benicio Del Toro- could be first interpreted based on a mentor taking in a naïve rookie to mold them into the mini-version of that mastermind. Examples that played on this theme vary from Dr. Hannibal Lecter in “Silence of the Lambs” to Detective Alonzo Harris in “Training Day’’. In “Sicario” however, Alejandro doesn’t gift Kate a valuable life lesson or allow her to discover pieces of herself that she never thought existed. They both remain unchanged, she is incapable of violence, and he is amoral –or according to her immoral- and violent, without a hint of doubt or regret.
“Sicario” is a dark poem of practicality that plays out its amorality (or immorality card) with no shame. It prides itself on being brutal, raw, and dark. With excellent performances, a haunting score, and a daunting fin, “Sicario” is not a movie to watch but to watch out for.
Jaylan Salah
Jaylan Salah Salman is an Egyptian poet, translator, two-time national literary award winner, animal lover, feminist, film critic, and philanthropist. She has published film criticism articles, short stories, poems, and translations in many websites and offline publications such as “Al Ahram”, “Vague Visages”, “Synchronized Chaos”, “theProse.com”, “Cinema Femme Magazine”, ” Eye on Cinema” and “Guardian Liberty Voice”. She Won the “Bleed on the Page” Competition for Poetry and Prose for her piece titled “Poof, Vagina”. Her first short story collection, “Thus Spoke La Loba”, was published in 2016 by the Egyptian Supreme Council of Culture. Her first poetry collection in English, “Work Station Blues”, was published by PoetsIN, a British publisher.
I personally had a dream, when I was in kindergarten, I dreamed that I can do as my aunt’s daughter when her daughters met the president and received the state award named after Zulfiya as the world and Uzbekistan champions. Even when I was in school, I had a dream, but I didn’t know how to make it happen, and in the 5th grade, I learned how to plan, and I made videos to motivate myself. When I was in the 8th grade, when the Is’haqkhan Ibrat school was opened, I was assigned to study and entered the 15th place to the school. In 2018, one of my dreams in kindergarten came true, that is, by the grace of God, I shook hands with the President of Uzbekistan Shavkat Mirziyoyev on May 3, 2018, and I set my plans as a goal. I focused on my goal and didn’t even listen to the people around me.
After some years, I graduated my school and enrolled at Uzbekistan State University of World Languages, another dream came true, because I became a student of my dream university. I did not stop saying “my dreams have come true, that’s it”, I strengthened my efforts in order to properly use the opportunities given to young people due to their language skills, and until now I have been a participant, coordinator, organizer, and volunteer of many projects. I am blogging because of my interest, I have been sharing my achievements and my knowledge of how to have these achievements for more than 1000 young people. In addition, I also made students through my personal projects.
Alisherova Dilshoda Azizxon qizi
Student of Uzbekistan State World Languages University
