New Uzbekistan
Every corner of my country
It is blooming
Changes are in full swing
The eyes are happy
The head of our country is the head
Support us
Change at every step
It will surprise you.
My country is rich in history
Every corner is sacred,
To such a great country
Many people like it.
Of great scholars
We are young people,
First at every step
Shakhdam takes steps.
This is my country in the world
There is no comparison, there is no equal,
Everywhere is rich in history
There are many holy places.
Sometimes this language is weak
One look is not enough
I will describe it again
I won't run out of words.
Mamadaliyeva Aziza is the daughter of Dilshodbek.
She was born on October 19, 2006 in the city of Chust, Namangan region. Her first book "Joy of Youth" was published in 2021. Aziza is very interested in reading books along with writing poems. She is the district and regional prize winner of the "Young Reader" competition. A number of his poems are published in district and regional newspapers. Aziza Namangan has delighted many fans with her poems on television.
A VISIT BY MY INNER CHILD
A child, in his innocence, whispers hope into my broken soul.
She said: trust the dreams long held onto, your dreams would soar, someday.
Thanks to the sense of joy and possibility felt as a child whose hope rises like the light of dawn though adulthood is a journey riddled with challenges and responsibilities.
Now, my inner child reminds me again and again of the magic that exists within me. It tells me to connect with my curious self and recapture that innocence that believes the sky is a touch from my finger.
I now know how to let go of my worries and bury my fears deep beneath.
I ride on the wind of courage and trust the light in me that buries the shadow of the darkness.
Today, hear me:
I have mastered visiting the whispers of my inner child as she reminds me that hope is a tray serving juice to forlorn dreams. Hope awakens my dreams and can do so for you.
Kande Danjuma
(Kdy)
Big Pharma Magic (Come Find Me)
I’m getting better just taking precautions.
Yes chickenpox covered my elementary body
raised spots inflammations I scratched
like hell & freed me from a classroom
for almost two weeks but now threaten
to reemerge since my years pass seventy;
hit me up with the shingles vaccine as I
diagnose health equipping myself with antidotes. .
Like today’s youth, I fell victim to an ADHD misdiagnosis
believed pharmaceutical product oracles that encouraged
overweight people to eat, dance and sing Jardiance jingles
pay a big pharma pipers to manage our personal A1C
sidestepping a professional cardiometabolic disease prognosis.
My breathing difficulty had nothing to do
with decades inhaling pot & tobacco smoke
no, no…, faceless voices convinced me
my malady’s simple: I’ve got COPD now I
respire steroids nursing seizures and sore throats
focusing attention on my impending Crohn’s disease
treating it and moderate ulcerative colitis with Entyvio
TNF-a inhibitors damaging my liver leaving plenty to rot.
An armchair pharmacologist I am one, tis true, tis true!
I write lists of disorders related to suggestive syndromes
while family and friends do crossword puzzles, turn off
television ads, and engage in gracious conversation
oblivious to my world of perceived ailments’ simple cures.
Apart from uncontrollable nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting,
Otezla surely medicates my dormant plaque psoriasis
Rexulti wards off all undetected hypertension
keeps my lurking dementia at arm’s length
as Austedo XR tempers quiescent body spasms
stabilizes my moodiness mutes self-expression
mitigates behavioral outbursts though it promotes
suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempts, and depression.
I’m a wanna be apothecary. A chemical herbalist. Solemn,
Learned. Impressionable. Stern. Yet if I glimpse beyond
prescriptive magic, daylight’s dismal night time’s bleak
so I refill miracle Dosette boxes swallow pills like sacred hosts
still, I’m in pain. I’m so far gone. I’m living dose to dose.
********************************************************************************
Among Clouds
Savants claim everything begins with a dream
whether riding on horseback or dancing
en pointe, wearing holes in living room rugs
as you practice arabesques and pirouettes;
I envisaged your face grinning as I approached
your house for a visit, an expression
that broke into a genuine smile as you
opened the door and invited me in; as long as I
stayed, your eyes, cheeks, and mouth moved
in unison like the sweeping arm of a clock.
Nighttime and waking hour fantasies remained
hidden too often; I hungered for authentic emotions
to shift from my mind’s eye, evade sky castle
realty, make way for enduring meaning concealed
behind your mischievous yet incomparable glow
as inviting and reassuring as a flirtatious wink
when you grasped my hand and pulled me inside,
knowing our romantic growth’s a pipedream stifled;
once effortlessly conjured, I’ve forgotten your face
a dreamscape terminated among clouds with a whimper.
********************************************************************************
Midwestern Strip
Pick-up trucks line city streets
like zebra striped parking lot aisles
polished chrome bumpers
refract antediluvian light rays
dirt-covered windows absorb
silvery beams down main streets
where saloons outnumber markets, schools,
theatres, restaurants, and medical centers;
taverns attract residents like watering holes…
there they’d congregate to drink, dance, and argue
blaming climate change on mother nature, poverty
on laziness, mass shootings on unarmed liberals.
********************************************************************************
Kaijū Redux
Remembering Elji Tsuburaya and Ishirō Honda
Heatwave & harvests, August’s end
weary straining leaves, neglecting chlorine
maintenance, bacteria bred in a plastic vessel
we once scrubbed to eliminate slimy walls
yet allowed toes to dig into a peatmoss padded
visqueen bottom rather than slip on a scummy bottom
above its softened footing. (Thanks Uncle Conrad);
we emptied our round swim center down the driveway
left a half inch stagnating in the pool expecting swift
evaporation during sizzling sunny days & muggy Leo nights;
Debbie noticed movement beneath the moisture first;
as mosquito larvae wiggled & squirmed below
we scooped fetid water in dixie cups that cradled
maggot-like creatures for captive study;
examining malaria carrier progeny under my microscope,
we recognized how yōkai and nature’s grotesques inspired
Japanese sci-fi sensei as they created irradiated monsters:
Godzilla to Rodan, King Ghidorah to Gigan,
Hedorah to Megalon, their eyes evil, jaws spiked;
twisted frames and geometric writhing brought
backyard Kaiju to life—a feat we proudly cultivated.
********************************************************************************
Panoramic Platform
New York City’s MTA thrives
cold rolled iron tracks
wake as the
Hudson
Rail
Yards
absorb
crimson light
amber hues fill skies
as Dawn’s rays glance off glass towers
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Sterling Warner’s Brief BiographyAn award-winning author, poet, and former Evergreen Valley College English Professor, Sterling Warner’s works have appeared many literary magazines, journals, and anthologies including Lothlórien Poetry Journal, Ekphrastic Review, and Sparks of Calliope. Warner’s collections of poetry/fiction include Rags and Feathers, Without Wheels, ShadowCat, Edges, Memento Mori: A Chapbook Redux, Serpent’s Tooth, Flytraps, Cracks of Light: Pandemic Poetry & Fiction 2019-2022, Halcyon Days: Collected Fibonacci, Abraxas: Poems (2024), and Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories. Presently, Warner writes, hosts/participates in “virtual” poetry readings, turns wood, and enjoys retirement in Washington.
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Flowers
A splash of color in the green,
A silent whisper, life unseen,
A delicate dance, a gentle sway,
A bloom unfurls, a brand new day.
From bud to blossom, a wondrous show,
A symphony of petals, soft as snow,
A fragrant sigh, a sweet perfume,
A vibrant canvas, chasing gloom.
They stand in fields, a joyful throng,
Or grace a vase, where they belong,
A silent message, heartfelt and true,
A beauty shared, for me and you.
For in their presence, we find release,
A moment's peace, a heart's increase,
A reminder bright, that life's a gift,
A flower's bloom, a gentle swift.
Turdaliyeva Muxarram Baxromjon qizi was born in 2008 in Namangan, Uzbekistan. Now she is 16 years old. She can speak fluently in English, Russian and Korean.
The Philosophy of the Eyes
Scholars are searching, travelers are wandering,
World secrets are always a mystery.
Longing for thousands of years,
Finally, the poet found fancy eyes!
I'm glad those eyes are mine,
The poet knew him as a deep ocean,
He placed the earth and the sky in it,
Seeing justice, mercy in my eyes!
Elena's angelic beauty,
By the trickery of the hypocrite's eye,
She tamed Achilles with charm,
Destroyed Troy before her eyes!
Every word, conversation has its own meaning,
Secret glances have their touch,
The eyes have both healing and suffering,
The poet sees heaven in my eyes!
He is a man of the philosophical world.
Parvanah is in love the candle burns alone
He strongly believes in unattainable love.
It deserves respect in my eyes!
Elmaya Jabbarova was born in Azerbaijan. She is a poet, writer, reciter, and translator. Her poems were published in the regional newspapers «Sharginsesi», «Ziya», «Hekari», literary collections «Turan», «Karabakh is Azerbaijan!», «Zafar», «Buta», foreign Anthologies «Silk Road Arabian Nights», «Nano poem for
Africa», «JuntosporlasLetras 1;2», «Kafiye.net» in Turkey, in the African's CAJ magazine, Bangladesh's Red Times magazine, «Prodigy Published» magazine. She performed her poems live on Bangladesh Uddan TV, at the II Spain Book Fair 1ra Feria Virtual del Libro Panama, Bolivia, Uruguay, France, Portugal, USA.
My new Constitution!
Independence is the greatest honor,
In the wars, tears flowed from the eyes,
Everyone is under your protection!
My new Constitution!
I will express my opinion today
If I see freedom in my words,
He gave me the happiness to speak,
My new Constitution!
The development of society is yours,
How little to praise your name,
Equality of human rights,
My new Constitution!
I want my children to study.
May the country be blessed, everyone in prayer,
We are seeing the worlds.
My new Constitution!
Punishment is inevitable for the unworthy,
There are laws for traitors,
Taking measures and at that time
My new Constitution!
My religion is free, I live happily.
Nations are equal, here together,
He respected his equality
My new Constitution!
He has the same respect as your father,
He didn't forget his teachers either.
You are a spreader of knowledge,
My new Constitution!
Burning John for the Nation
I have to study and work today.
Pin the flag on the blue
I will be a pillar for my country!
Nukus State Pedagogical Institute, Faculty of Philology, Uzbek language and literature, 2nd stage student Pardaboyeva Adiba Shukhrat girl
THE MYSTERIOUS BIRD
A rare bird
that you hardly see in the day
but in the night, creepy.
what a bird on earth
perches on trees and poles
scares you with its voice as
fear and sorrow travel into your heart
a bird with a circle-shaped eye, creepy
and her ears hear ten times more than humans
what a creature nature so endowed.
By Praise Danjuma
