I REWRITE THE FUTURE IN THE SKY, HOPING FOR A NEW TREE
I rewrote the future in the stars hoping a new tree to sprout out And a new story to begin, wishing the rainbows to duplicate the earth
And its habitats like stars in the sky painting the future was necessary for you because tomorrow may be too late and our fruits also withered like a lifeless vegetation. Peace and justice will find its way to the throne of power and all those whose ears are made of steel will be melted in the ever glowing fire of fulfilled dreams Those whose tongues denies the truth must therefore assemble with open confessions and my countrymen will no longer be a bunch of thorns on my flesh
And expectations for a clean environment of metaphors hanging on the sky, the day will soon come and a new generation shall be birthed into this world of we mortals.
Casualties
Yesterday I leaned on a couch, And today am on a journey to see The casualties of my poem. My tongue fell into the hole of my head, And pains like tapeworms slides into view To shield me from darkness.
A tree standing without a head Is my hostess on that plane That swallowed the sky and Rebirth’s another casualties.
A mother is a mother. She does not need another quality. (O’tkir Hashimov “World affairs”)
August 29, 2022…
The last days of summer. Hot days are over. One season was ready to give way to another season
. Having graduated from school, achieved my dream, and been admitted to a higher educational institution, I fly in the seventh heaven, hoping that I will be a special person in the coming season, that is, I will be a student. I grew up in a simple village, among simple people. This event that I remember now is what I witnessed with my own eyes. The names in it have changed. Maybe people too. But it did not affect me. I know there are many stories, fairy tales, songs, poems about mothers. Among these, I would like to add the fate of a poor mother who I witnessed. I know that I am powerless to reprimand someone for something. However, through this story, I would like to remind you that we need to understand the truth more deeply.
ЭIt was August 29 … I was returning home after celebrating with my friends because of my admission. There are a lot of cars and people on the street. I could not understand what happened. A little while ago, when I was returning from a party, I fell into a different state after seeing this situation. I could hear the whispers of people passing by me on the street: “Yes, the poor man was ill for a long time, it was difficult for his son. Such words. I felt like I understood. Aunt Farida … Aunt Farida is dead. Aunt Farida is our neighbor, she has one son and one daughter. Her children divorced her husband when they were small. I am also the richest person in the world. I don’t say that I am satisfied with life and my fate, I am living a very good life. Therefore, this cannot be expected even from a poor and helpless person. But my aunt Farida was really struggling to make a living. As soon as her daughter graduated from school, she worked from morning to night in order to help her mother. It is not for nothing that they say that the role of the father in the upbringing of a boy is great. Farida’s aunt’s son may have lacked this upbringing. True, he also helped his family and his mother, but for some reason he did not act himself until he said that his mother was suffering and that he should act for the sake of the family. One day my mother was baking bread in the oven. I was always busy with tasks. Aunt Farida came to our place. While they were talking with my mother for a while, my mother went to the oven again, to my aunt Farida’s house. At that time, my mother said that she will stay with you today. It has been a year and a half since the wedding of my aunt Farida’s daughter Sevinch. He came out to say that his son is staying at our house because he is alone at home today for some reason. That day remained with us. He could not sleep well at night because it was a strange house. Whether my brother or mother noticed it, I felt it very well. Sahar got up in the morning to pray the morning prayer. We all read. But he said that he will go home without having breakfast. The medicine he used to drink before breakfast was left at home. One day he went in without agreeing to do nothing. Aunt Farida’s house is almost not finished, even so, it took a lot of work to get to its current state. That is, my aunt Farida picked cotton and carrots in autumn. In the spring, he took out the cotton crop. So, in every season, seasonal jobs were found for him. My mother said that they restored these houses with the help of my aunt Farida’s father, and then they did a lot of work themselves. Of course, his children were young at that time. In 2020, when the coronavirus spread all over the world, my aunt Farida became seriously ill. His daughter is married. His son was in Russia. He spent a lot of time in the hospital. He left the hospital, but the effect of his patients did not go away. They were in the process of renovating their house beautifully to marry their son. It was summer. It was the end of summer. Aunt Farida was affected by that illness, difficult times of fate, the end of many misfortunes, literally speaking. Maybe there are many things that happened in the fate of this mother that I did not know. But the difficulty of the past tense of these simply written words, which I have listed, is actually great. What was the saddest thing… After the death of my aunt Farida, she sold her son’s houses, the house where she was born and grew up, where she spent her childhood, where her mother and grandfather worked hard, and married a woman in the city. He moved to the country. He did not stay in that house because of his mother’s respect. Sorry… It really hurt me. Because it was not just a house, but also a memory. One day my married sister came to our house. When they come, there will be a holiday in our house. When my sister was talking to my mother, I overheard: “I saw my aunt Farida in my dream last night. They were looking at me and saying: Iftar is being served in heaven, I am going there.” They were like happy people.
Mother’s love is real, not everyone understands it.
Boqijonova Madinabonu. Born in 2004 in Fergana region. Currently, he is a 1st-year student of the Faculty of Philology of Fergana State University, majoring in Russian language and literature.
A LOVE FORETOLD
We met each other for a reason
The myth was one foretold before we ever spoke
From the beginning our hearts were so close
Our thoughts often the same without even talking
Our hearts together beat in perfect rhythm
as we both rested in each other's arms..
A most beautiful and perfect dream together
I know at times our dreams could not find each other
in the sharp brokenness that we both have lived through
But our hearts together are like a shrine in a temple
We both religiously worship in each other's love
Nothing can ever tear it down; it is too strong
God will surely bless such a love as ours...
SORRY BABY, I WIN
One look at his face and into his eyes
I was hooked at that point but he wasn't surprised.
Six foot six, with long wavy hair, women fell at his feet
but he didn't care.
"Too Easy" he says, with that sweet evil grin
At that moment I thought, I should run far from him.
But my heart was curious, it knew no bounds,
So I decided that I would just stick around.
I'm glad I did because there was much more
than this strong attraction that went straight to my core.
"I'm not a nice guy" he told me quite sharp,
but I knew there was goodness in this bad boy's heart.
The love for him I had was quite real,
it was far more than just lust or his strong sex appeal.
He made me laugh and Wow!... what a smile,
so I stayed around if even just for a while.
Since that day, the tables have turned,
For me his heart melted, it passionately burned.
He thought he was immune to any emotion
No love in his heart, no speck of devotion.
Little did he know he'd have no control
against this tough but loving woman's grasp on his soul.
Now it's me who possesses his sweet, evil grin,
"Love Conquers All, Sorry Baby, I win".
Longing for My Place in This World
I thought I knew where my place was in this world long ago
But I find my purpose changes like the beautiful seasons,
and I gladly change with each season in my life.
I never was impressed by riches or fame, even though I have had them
I have also been poor in money but my riches were in my life lessons.
The only thing I ever wanted, was a stable home with children.
I got my beautiful children, but a stable home was never meant for me when I was younger. But... It kept me moving and it taught me so much. There was nothing I could not get through because of doing everything in life the hard way.
It took a long time for me to see the purpose of that.
I never look at a hard time as something bad, but another lesson learned in my life.
Now, in the latter part of my life, I know where my place is. It is everywhere.
It is wherever God places me at any given day. That is where I belong.
If someone needs me, God will place me there. I have been all over the world without leaving my home. I have learned from people who I have never met. I have loved children who aren't mine. I have empathy and I am so grateful for every person I have in my life. I love so many cultures and watch in wonder at their lives.
And I am so glad that God has shown me that my place is not one place or for one purpose, but in many places and for many reasons, and it is exciting!
And, I am truly thankful that he uses me everyday in a different place in this world. I love my life!
Escaping Reality
In my secret world that only I can see..
the trees and grass are always green, if only this could be.
I'd never have a worry about memories of pain..
only golden days of happiness and joy that pours like rain.
I've lived so much reality I often have to hide
within my world of make believe to mask the pain inside.
Where fairies, knights and princesses become the real thing.
They take me to a magical place where I can laugh and sing.
Please take me from this darkness from where I've seen such things
as blackened hand prints on my skin and painful tears that sting.
Though all of them have disappeared now from the naked eye,
the scares they left upon my soul have killed the joy inside.
So once again I travel back to my peaceful, secret place
to escape the cold and violence that I lived outside its space.
Kristy Raines was born in Oakland California, USA and is a poet, writer, author and humanitarian/activist.
She has five books getting ready to publish soon, one with a prominent Poet from India which will launch hopefully soon called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West", two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Thins and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", and an anthology of poems in English," Walking Without You, one in French, "Little Rose Poetry", one in Arabic called," Jasmine and Roses". She is taking a course in Arabic to write this book. Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing.
If I head away.
Maybe then my worth is known,
If I leave a mark on your heart.
My parents miss me,
They have been waiting for me for years.
Looking at the streets where my childhood was left
You know my worth again.
You can't find me,
Your dreams are telling the truth-
You look for my laughter, though,
You can't find them either, my friend!
You ask the moon where I am
He is ashamed of not being able to answer.
I repeat again, my dear ones,
You will never find me
Mokhinur Askarova daughter of Bakhadir was born on May 13, 2006 year in Jizzakh city.In 2013 year she went to the 14 th school in Jizzakh city. She is also a member of about 20 international.organizations and the owner of more than 50 international certificates. a graduate of the special course of the world famous"Oxford University's Home study center"course, published the first poetry collection "World" announced.America's "Amazon"his poems were published in "Raven Cage"magazines of Germany,he was invited 3 times as a guest of"Assalom Jizzakh"show.
Kelly was mowing their front yard when the snake landed on her arm. She figured it was from a tree, and it tightened its grip on her arm like a boa constrictor and lunged at her face hitting her glasses and cracking them. She ran right over her rose bush, the lawn mower spitting red petals and thorns, and she screamed “Help me, Jesus” twice, shaking her outstretched arm. Her disabled husband heard her and moved down the ramp of the carport with his cane as quickly as he could, hearing Kelly holler for Jesus.
Jesus didn’t come swooping down from heaven to save her, but the hungry hawk that had picked up the snake in a field of peas about a half mile down the road and then lost its grip and dropped it onto Kelly circled back and nose-dived toward her arm, its claws slicing her arm while grabbing hold of the snake. As Bud made his way to the yard, he waved his cane and hollered, “Get!” several times.
When the hawk had a firm enough grip, it took off with the snake writhing in the sky, and Bud got Kelly to the emergency room where she was treated for lacerations and bruising. The doctor told Kelly that the right glass in her eyeglasses was cracked and kept the snake’s venomous bite from her eye even though her readers had to be trashed.
Ghost of Lincoln
We never thought we’d see a ghost through binoculars in the White House from our view on E street by the South Lawn. We’d hiked from our hotel early in the evening with a light fog settling over the city. Along with our binoculars, we had a 35-millimeter camera with zoom lens, so we could get any close ups of the Obamas, but my friend Grant said, “Damn. That looks like Abraham Lincoln standing by the window.”
“Let me see,” I said. “By God, you’re right. Get some pics. He’s wearing a dark suit and a top hat.” He took the camera, focused, and snapped about twenty shots.
“I hope I caught him. He didn’t move and then evaporated.”
“We might even be on one of those reality TV shows if his image is on the film once it develops.”
“That would be cool.”
“Yes, it would.”
The Lincoln room was just a couple of windows to the right of the rotunda on the second floor. I’d looked at it online, since I knew those areas were off limits on our tour the next day. Lincoln may have been the most iconic of all the ghosts seen in the White House. He’d been seen by first ladies Grace Coolidge, Lady Bird Johnson, and Jacqueline Kennedy. He’d also been seen by Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, both of whom had been guests in the Lincoln bedroom. First lady Eleanor Roosevelt also reported feeling Lincoln’s presence as she worked in her office in the Lincoln bedroom, and President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s valet once ran screaming from the White House after seeing Lincoln’s ghost. Even the Ronald Reagan family had some experience with Lincoln’s ghost. The Reagan’s dog Rex stood at Lincoln’s door and barked and barked, and Reagan’s daughter Maureen and her husband had reported ghostly images when they stayed in the Lincoln room.
“Why would he haunt that area? It wasn’t his bedroom. It was his office and his Cabinet room at the time.”
“I’m not sure. I think Laura Bush redid the room, but the rosewood bed was purchased by Mrs. Lincoln along with some of the furniture. It was where Lincoln first read the Emancipation Proclamation to his Cabinet, and there’s a copy framed and hung on one of the walls. Of course, Lincoln himself had ghostly experiences there when he was President. He reported hearing the ghost of former President Jackson swearing and stomping around.”
“That’s wild and wasn’t there something about a child?”
“Yes, the Lincoln’s son Willie died at twelve from Typhoid Fever and had been seen by some staff of President Grant. Maybe he’s looking for his son or maybe he’s just thinking about the massive loss of life in the Civil War.”
“Most places aren’t nearly as haunted.”
“Why do you think that is? Age?”
“No, I think it’s because of the stress and the energy expended. Lincoln’s term had to be one of the most stressful. I’m sure all presidential terms have their own anguish, but his must have been incredibly difficult.”
“Yes, I think so.”
When they returned home to Illinois, the two friends had a great ghost story to share, and of all the photos snapped, one of them showed a grainy image of what might be perceived as Lincoln.
“Looks like that picture of Jesus someone saw on a slice of bread.” We both laughed.
“Or the Virgin Mary in a cloud.” We laughed more.
“Or what about that potato ship shaped like Elvis?” We laughed less because the joke was already getting old, and we both saw our reality show appearance evaporate just like the ghost of Lincoln.
“Yeah, they call seeing images that aren’t there pareidolia. Maybe we didn’t see Lincoln at all.”
“Maybe.”
Niles Reddick is author of a novel, three collections, and a novella. His work has been featured in over thirty collections and anthologies and five hundred magazines and journals including The Saturday Evening Post, PIF, New Reader, Forth, Citron Review, Right Hand Pointing, Nunum, and Vestal Review. He is a five time Pushcart, a two time Best Micro nominee, and a two time Best of the Net nominee. His newest flash collection If Not for You has recently been released by Big Table Publishing.
From southwestern Michigan, Jerry Langdon has lived in Germany since the early 90’s. He is an Artist and Poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled “Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil”, “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various rock bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.
