I'm sorry mom... I made mistakes before I could go far, I put lies on the end of the truth. I know I hurt you I'm sorry, my dear mother. I said sweetly to another, When it comes to you, I'm back. I'm here to apologize, I'm sorry, my dear mother. I'm trying to please everyone, Your heart is fine, look, I'm fine. I'll come back to you, I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry. Daughter of Ilhomova Mohichehra Azimjon, 7th grade student of Zarafshan city, Navoi region, school No. 9.
Seashell and Falcon’s Feather Leaning against the sky full of glittering stars, I crack the nifty puzzles of wonderous rhymes- And a cluster of homes where I live sleep in silence, To allow my quill to pray for God and chant hymns! Lewd sunrays pierce innocent but joyful bleeding dawn, And the daylight ploughs through my sparkling mind- While I weave miracles of benumbing wills on my quills, And gain applause from global readers, front and behind! Strain of endless hope bonds with light of peace in silence, And the old shafts of fear or hate reaches the spear of love- Such rhythm never ends, and mighty God always sends, The rejoicing moments for a few from His abode above! Beauty of spendthrift hours spent on Earth bravely shows, Life is one-act-play, on mud-hut clay, or a perilous feline sea- But always ready to grapple or swoop down to play with claw, And becomes breathless to lock or unlock the happiness key! The secrets of my witless mind now deal with lusty hours, Pounded by the wordless things with a miraculous power- And swiftly makes me rise to dive in the ocean of rhymes, To tame the throbs with crack of a whip from ivory tower! I still know not why God sent me to Earth, politically incorrect, May be to collect the seashell and falcon’s feather or drink wine- But the shifting weather of the world taught me to learn. Slouching dwarf, ranting priest, and occasionally whine!! Hillol Ray, D.Litt., Ph.D. (Doctor of Humanity), D.Phil. (Theology), Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Phil. (Nigeria), D.Litt. (Morocco), Poet Laureate, Author, Translator, is an Environmental Engineer with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in Dallas, Texas. He is listed in Who’s Who in Asian-Americans, Marquis Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in Science and Engineering, and Who’s Who in the World. His books “Wings of Time”, “Metamorphic Portrait” (Amazon. Com) -recently released. Web Links: https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry/e https://bwesner.wixsite.com/awards-2016-to-2030
Three Haiku first day of July— lightning above the mountains to the west of here — electrical storm! radio static crackles during the ballgame — small bird in the air attacks magpie on its perch guilty on all counts — bio/graf J. D. Nelson is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). His first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.
The Sky The sky is blue, so wide and high, With clouds that float and birds that fly. At dawn it glows, at night it's deep, Stars come out as we fall asleep. The sun climbs up, then slides away, The moon and stars begin their play. The sky above is always there, A part of life, beyond compare. Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Unaware! You lived in this life What did you find? What do you lose? I lost my valuables I couldn't find it! Bring them back! I've been looking for it all my life I couldn't find my valuables My values are out of order Why are you without a tree? Silence is always the rule Why? Why? What for! I could not find you! There is always silence My question is unanswered
UZBEKISTAN – MY HOMELAND The homeland is a place our ancestors deemed sacred, where our descendants guard like the apple of their eye, where our umbilical cord blood was shed. The homeland is the place everyone sees when they first open their eyes, sincerely loves, cherishes, and where they were born and raised. Everyone loves their homeland; when they think of it, their home, family, relatives, and friends come to mind. That’s why we all strive to do everything good for our country, for its flourishing and peaceful life. The homeland is, first and foremost, our people. They are kind, generous, humane, good-hearted, and hardworking. Our people have always been close, friendly with each other. Their respect for one another is boundless, making them one of the most hospitable nations. It hosts historical sites like Samarkand, Bukhara, Khorezm, and Termez, welcoming numerous travelers every year. I read what the writers wrote, The poems my poets composed. But I couldn't find a place as beautiful As the descriptions of my Uzbekistan. Our sky is clear, our water and air are pure, our nature is beautiful. There are all conditions for young children to attend kindergartens and schools, for youth to study for bachelor's and master's degrees, and for everyone to work independently and conduct research. The education and employment of women, and the provision of pensions to the elderly are monitored. There are many places for education, medical treatment, rest, and cultural relaxation. Early in the morning, we see our hardworking people baking fresh bread in the tandoor, sprinkling and sweeping the streets and yards, and the work in the fields has already begun. We also witness birds singing their "song of happiness." Some are preparing for school, some for work, others for the market or guests. During this time, we meet and greet our close relatives, ask about their well-being. We help schoolchildren and our elderly grandparents cross the road. If we are in a car, we try to give way to people and other vehicles. Whether at work, in educational institutions, or wherever we are, we find the desire within ourselves to spread good cheer and treat others well. In the family, everyone feels very happy. With the closest people around – parents, siblings, spouses, and children – life becomes even more joyful. The father is the pillar of the family, strong and robust, providing sufficient funds and conditions for the family. The mother mainly deals with child-rearing, household chores, and her professional activities. Children, surrounded by loving people in a peaceful homeland, study and strive, becoming individuals who will benefit our country in the future. In conclusion, when we speak of the homeland, everyone envisions their motherland. We are proud to be born in such a paradise-like, beautiful, peaceful, and kind homeland. Just as everyone loves their mother more than any other woman, people love their homeland more than any other country. Wherever one is born, that place is dear and sacred. There is no place as blessed as the threshold of the homeland. There is only one motherland, and the love for it is unique. Marjona Jo'rayeva was born on October 18, 2003, in the Termiz district of Surxondaryo region. She is currently a second-year student at the Faculty of Philology of the Termiz State Pedagogical Institute, specializing in Uzbek language and literature education.