Liza is 9 years old. She lives in a big house. She has an enormous room. She has too many toys and she has a lot of friends But Liza is not happy. She has a secret. She does not want to tell anyone about her secret. She feels embarrassed. The problem is that if nobody knows about it, there is no one that can help her.
Liza doesn’t write her homework. When there is an exam-she gets sick .She doesn’t tell anyone, but the truth is she can’t read and write. Liza doesn’t recollect the letters of the alphabet.
One day Liza’s teacher finds out she sees that Liza can’t write on the board.
She calls her after class and asks her to tell the truth. Liza says, It is true. I don’t know how to read and write. The teacher listens to her. She wants to assist Liza. She tells her “That’s OK. You can read and write if we practise and try together”.
So Liza and her teacher meet every day after class. They rehearse together. Liza works hard. Now she knows how to read and write.
Today, one of my favorite people is “I chose Abdurazzak Khanvov.”
Despite his young age, Abdurazzoq has achieved a number of achievements (I’ll try to write it in a simple way). Abdurazzoq Khanov was born in Uzbekistan in 2006. He can be an example to the younger generation. Abdurazzoq scored 7.0 in the International IELTS test at the age of 15 and 8.0 at the age of 16. And now his IELTS score 8 (triple scores of eight)
Teacher of more than a thousand students and founder of online courses, author of valuable and useful books on IELTS.
In addition, Abdurazzok Khanov is engaged in marketing. Almost every month, he holds free seminars, trainings, master classes for his students in Uzbekistan, and shares his knowledge.
It should be mentioned that Abdurazzaq is a book lover, a well-rounded person and a good teacher for his students.
I wish Abdurazzoq Khanov, a native of Uzbekistan, only and only high flights.
“May all your goals and dreams come true Abdurazzak”
Author Bakhora Bakhtiyorova was born on March 21, 2006 in the Republic of Uzbekistan.
Journalist, monologist of international American and Kenyan magazines.
Tiny Eschers After Rain
If one of these unrolled pillbugs looked up,
glassy, beaded dew would refract the light
from the sky and bend their world of vertical green lines
into spheres of shining blue.
Even if the pillbugs were too nearsighted
to see the geese above them
arrowheading their way north,
the potato bugs could hear them.
Honking-honked birds with their straight necks
crissing one season, crossing the next:
for centuries they’ve been stitching the north and south together
so that pillbugs can have a whole world
beyond their tiny patch.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila, Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, poetry is life and life is poetry.
Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for truth in pursuit of equality and proper stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.
Before I sat down today, I scored an orange, a cross over the green stem, and I wrestled with the peel to force it away from the flesh. I trimmed my nails last week to keep myself from picking at my raw fingertips, and I thought it was helping, until today when I felt a dampness on my skin. I looked down to see a bit of blood seeping into my cuticle. Not enough for it to be a problem, but it made my heart sink a little, because I thought I was past this. Now, when I plunge my thumb beneath the orange peel, between the seam I made, the acidic citrus leaks across the cracked skin and my hand pulls itself to my mouth to draw out the pain. The rawness has nearly migrated to the middle of my thumbprint, where it spirals into itself. I’ve been wondering, if I keep this up, will I get a new fingerprint? Will my one claim to individuality be rewritten? Maybe this is my chance for a new beginning. My fingers have been shaking all week and I do not know what to do to stop it. It’s not that I am anxious, I think it’s just something fundamentally wrong in my brain these days. I think that I am so lucky to have written evidence of the decline of my brain in this past week, but it makes me so sad. I could blame the start of the Spring Semester, or I could blame myself, but I think that it is both. Phoebe Bridgers in my headphones is not helping.
I think I have moved on from the idea that growing up is causing all my problems, and it’s the sole reason I have been so sad. I think that I just need to get new friends. I need to wipe myself clean and maybe swim in the ocean and paint myself with sunshine, and wait for the good people to come to me. As it is right now, I love my friends so deeply it is killing me, and I cannot sit and wait for them to like me more. I think that the longer I wait, the harder it will be to say anything. What a bad sentence. I bet 300,000 people have said that sentence today. Today I stood in someone else’s kitchen, she made mac and cheese with the person that all of these things have been about, and I stood, in complete silence, wedged between the end of the stove and the wall. I have been making a habit of making myself small recently, and I am worried that it’s becoming an issue. I sit on the floor between two people I have known forever, and I shrink my legs down as small as they go. I sit in the darkness in the back of the car, listening, and not paying attention to my surroundings. When I go to say goodnight, what I hear from him is “I wish I was with my other friends instead of you.” Maybe that’s the real stupid sentence here. Or maybe both seem stupid because they are too much of the truth all at once. I have said all the wise things there are to say, I have made all the best, most thought out points ever said about one’s inner workings of the mind, and I think I have talked it all out. I am now left with the blind wondering. The silence that comes not from trying to think of an answer, but being without a question. That’s a good sentence.
THE LINGUISTICAL STATUS OF “HYPERBOLA” IN MODERN LINGUISTICS
ABSTRACT.
Annotation. Cognitive science can be developed in linguistics today. The “concept”, which is the object of study of the basis of cognitive linguistics, is a framed view of “cognitive semantics” as a result of mental processes, in language to its verbalizers. The concept of “hyperbola” is among such concepts. Articles, the universal nature of hyperbola stylistic tool is highlighted, the similar and different knowledge of verbalizers of their lexical and semantic “deeper research, their lexical and deeper study in Uzbek languages” hyperbola” tools is highlighted.
INTRODUCTION. Today, in world linguistics, as well as in the linguistics of our country, attention is being paid to the study of the use of language as a social phenomenon. The interest of scientists in the fact that language is an important means of communication between people and its unique mediating function in communication, to study a number of aspects arising from the need for communication, is growing more and more. The department of general linguistics called stylistics or “stylistics” that investigates language as a means of communication performs an important task of consistent and systematic study and clarification of its communicative-pragmatic issues and problems.
Another direction in world linguistics – cognitive linguistics – is developing and flourishing. The subject of his analysis is the role of language in the process of understanding the objective existence of language speakers or writers, as well as the role of cognitive factors in the process of the formation, development and use of language as a means of communication, the unique role of the human factor in it, conceptualization and categorization of the system of human knowledge about the objective world. is the scientific research and scientific illumination of the techniques, tools and methods of language storytelling through processes. In linguistics, the “concept”, which is the main object of the study of cognitive linguistics, as a result of mental processes, has its own special verbalizers, i.e., means of realizing them directly in the language. The concept of “hyperbola” is one such concept.
Hyperbole is one of the most common stylistic tools. In order to exert a strong influence on the interlocutor in the process of communication, the speaker is inextricably linked with his communicative-pragmatic purpose-goal, that is, the need to exaggerate one or another description of an object or event. With the intention of fully realizing the “cognitive/conceptual semantics of hyperbole”, using the stylistic tool of “hyperbole”, he tries to make the speech in the dialogue consistent with the situation, attractive, impressive and expressive. The universal nature of hyperbola is related to such an important factor that its linguo-cognitive basis is “the conceptual semantics of hyperbola, existing in the thinking of every sane person who speaks and writes in the language, is normalized by the received society. Therefore, it is a perceptual phenomenon expressed in the social conceptosphere, and such semantics cannot legally be manifested in any living language through a special system of specific verbal and non-verbal means” (Karaboyev J.B 2015, 74-75.
In conclusion, it can be said that in modern linguistics, a new, interdisciplinary direction – cognitive linguistics-is increasingly developing. Research specific to this direction is based on the principle of anthropocentrism, and the focus of such research is the human factor. At the same time, “concept”, which is the main category of cognitive linguistics, as a mental unit, is used to acquire world knowledge. Among various concepts or conceptual semantics, the concept of “hyperbole”, which is one of the cognitive stylistic concepts, is among the concepts that have a universal nature, and it is impossible not to exaggerate them deliberately and often according to the situation. This indicates that this conceptual semantics is a very important and necessary semantics from the communicative point of view. All synonymous, homonymous, hyponymic, hyponymic and patronymic relationships related to hyperbola are implemented within the hyperbola concept area through its components based on the laws of this system.
REFERENCES 1. Karaboyev J.B. Linguistic status of hyperbole and phraseological units with integrated semantics//New trends in linguistics and their problems. Tashkent, 2015. p. 74-75. 2. Kunin A.V. Frazeologicheskie intensifikatory v sovremennom angliyskom yazyke./ I.Ya., 1960 3. Krysin H.P. Hyperbola in Russian conversational speech. Problemy strukturnoy lingvistiki. 1988, 9-11.
Malika Kaxarova was born on July 10,2001 in Uzbekistan, Navoi . She graduated school №2 . Malika is a fourth-year student of Kimyo International University in Tashkent. Currently, she is a student of primary Education. Holder of Yeoju Technical Institute in Tashkent “ Scholarship 2021/2022” and Kimyo International University in Tashkent “ Scholarship 2022/2023”.
Malika has written articles on the topic of education and has appeared in one of the education journals of the Russian Federation, Indonesia, and Uzbekistan. In 2022, the article on the topic “Aesthetic education of students of higher education institutions on the basis of artistic values of Uzbekistan” was published in the scientific journal “ EUROPEAN SCIENCE” on April №1(63) ISSN 2410-2865, MOSCOW.
The article on the topic “Methods of developing interest among students of higher educational institutions in the artistic culture of Uzbekistan” was published in the scientific journal “ WEB OF SCIENTIST: INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH JOURNAL” on JAN,2022 ISSN:2776, VOLUME 3, of in Republic of INDONESIA. the Republic of Indonesia
Additionally, she is learning new languages: Korean, Turkish, Russian.
I could someday found the capital of a huge empire
I drink the death of a fox as if
I were grass in which the dead body will gradually drown
I drink death
I am an unborn fox child
*
the parrot repeats after me as if my phrases are smart and mean something
the human child also repeats after me –
what for?
*
the ant’s revenge
is a pleasant tickling
of my knee
*
no one died except the pig
people thank god for food
the farm is falling asleep
*
the bird outside the window
disappears along with the drops
of autumn rain
Reprint by Litbreak Magazine, 28.11.2023
***
I dream that mosquitoes get rid of their bloody religion and cry in pain
my red hands have become a mosquito graveyard
all night I dream of graves without flowers
Reprint by Pegasus
***
my mother counts the amount of lead and uranium in the earth’s soil
the earth is round like the earth
the sky is black like a mining night
my mom takes the button out of her stomach
father is eloquently silent
the father is not sure that he is the father
Mary is not sure about anything either
and only the baby puts his feet on the milky ground
the Magi bring gifts to the baby Jesus – gills and a gas mask
Reprint by Pegasus
***
for whom do we drink water if from heaven God brings down rain on the earth?
for whom do we live if the top angels press the wrong buttons?
it turns out that we all live on a cloud
it turns out that we are electronic rivers of rain from electronic clouds
Reprint by Ripple Lit
***
the lanterns are shining
people die
water flows
the sun is shining
flowers die
blood flows
people are still dying
Reprint by Rise Up
***
strong
hard
sturdy
solid
fast
robust
tough
firm
beefy
hale
soldiers play birds
Reprint by Rise Up
***
My cat knows nothing about blood
My cat kills a mouse no matter what breed it is
My cat can’t be Jewish
My cat can have any hair color
My cat can vomit after overeating
My cat can lie down and die quietly in silence
My cat can fuck as much as he wants and wherever he wants
My cat can do nothing
My cat can ask for food without earning it
My cat can pretend to be human
Living people go on living in a cycle of war
Dead people keep dying
***
Invent me
Turn me inside out
Kiss me with weightlessness
Touch me with humility
A little winter for a bird
A little bird for winter
The freckled mirror dissolves
Old men stare into the reflection of the ice
Military pilots waltzing like mosquitoes
The ears that have been blown off are contused
In the reflection of the eyes hides a childhood that no longer exists
***
Mother feeds pigeons by the dugout
Black pigeons in the white snow
Looking for crumbs of bread
***
What do they feed Jewish drowned men?
It would be strange if they fed them fish
It would be strange if they didn’t cry
It would be funny if birds flew in
It would be vague if the Germans did it
It would be funny if children did it
It would be creepy if no one stood on the shore
What the trees were thinking when the hole next to them was dug
What the sand was thinking when they put the corpses on it
What the ravine was thinking when they flooded it
The Jewish Sea which is not to be spoken of
***
I love you but you are
a withered flower and also
covered with frost
***
Pesach of a severed silent vein
Whose blood flowed through the ditch of world (hi)story?
Hі! – tree branches waving
Hee hee! – the roots of the legs laugh and we are not able to move
Meanwhile the bone of a severed branch crunches underfoot
It crunches somewhere in the chest so that I want to break the insides
Fragments of the pain of water and silent stones weave a wreath
Wreaths are usually put on the heads of Jesus brides ukrainian girls
Wreaths are often placed near the graves in the cemetery
And at night in a bed floating in black cast iron
I dream of flowers without graves
During the sand of time the grass underfoot dries out
Therefore instead of grass in wreaths we braid tears
Grass is our home grass is glass
After death I would like to become grass
After death I would like to become glass
After death I would like to be without legs
After all every new day is a small escape for refugees.
I know that my pupils will no longer see a children’s collage
I always knew that one day my college would be smashed
I knew that one day they would kill us all and prayed that I would die beautifully
Unfortunately I did not die although what are the reasons for living
I teach my (eyes?) pupils not to see
I teach my fictional acquaintances to forget
I teach my legs to sleep and dreams to crumble
However time devours all its bad students anyway
I can’t do anything
I can’t even write
After all what is silent poetry capable of talking
Аbout today other than war?
Reprint by Orbis
***
Love is religion
Every time I drown in you I forget that I can’t swim
Every time I forget that the shore does not exist
Every time I use the right to remember and try to forget
The heart is leather satisfaction
Teach me to steal money not only from talent but also from the body
Teach me how to kiss people I don’t like
Teach me the night because the day is long over
Insatiable bodies fuck in all cracks
I no longer have a body
The body no longer has me
Love is walls without a ceiling in a homeless house
Reprint by Orbis
***
My dog suddenly turned blue
My friend the groomer only sparingly said that he sympathized with my grief
No doctor or zoologist could help either
The psychological support service also did not help me
The dog looked at me sadly and pressed against my leg
It’s been a day since my dog died
Exactly a day has passed since I imagine that my dog did not die, but only turned blue
Exactly a day passed like a day, I throw out the dog food from the bowl and pour a new one
My dog suddenly turned blue
***
My green throat has turned into a garden
I have to be silent a lot
I have to drink a lot so that the trees grow
I have to breathe quietly so as not to frighten the birds
I don’t want to scare those who are happy
***
Nobody counts death until nobody dies
***
summer heat secrets
shells and bullets fly instead of birds and spaceships
***
mom said
when you grow up you will live
mom lied
Essay:
two clods
1.
people living in the grave want to live. every day they collect pennies (calling this process work), study at the university (to temporarily get an exemption from army duty?), go to the grocery store and cook (although automatic robots were invented for this purpose decades ago), build a career (although it would be better for neural networks), they pay taxes on income (so that later they can look for new income for themselves (so that the state can have its own income (to pay benefits to the poor is also income). and what am I doing at the same time? I am fighting the shadow from humanity by closing eyes and creating a cast-iron darkness of blindness. і succeed: my vision is already minus three. meanwhile, the refugees leave their chicken nests and go to Europe. іn Europe, refugees, like ant queens, seek shelter. human miserable life – and this life turned out to be an escape. from where? where? at what pace? why are people still working instead of machines in mcdonalds? why is mcdonalds paid? why is the nuclear winter of dictators so expensive for slaves? humanity living in the grave wants to live.
2.
in childhood, we all often got sick, but with age we have no time to get sick or laziness. in 2022, for the first time since coming of age, my heart ached and I vomited. what are the reasons for my indignation? It turned out that the Nazis are murderers, people who love war are ordinary people who love their children and go to the same store with you. it turned out that fascists always believe that they are fighting fascism (but more often they are just interested in money). it turned out that puke is even nice – and after that there is an opportunity to fall asleep and not see anything. but during global changes, eyes are always opened. in childhood, they lied in blockbusters: the military does not always have two arms and legs, the head is not always intact, the intestines are not always hidden inside the body, the body is not always present in principle. Is it only dust that exempts you from taxes? how many years did you work and pay taxes before you died? how much money did you pay for nuclear winter? as a child, winter was considered an adventure. maybe the tode mouse finds the mousetrap fun before dying. the cat treats the mouse as its prey. but I noticed that often cats do not eat mouse corpses, but simply play with them. nature is funny even if it is shit. funny: before the war, I had practically no money. now the money is there but it is meaningless. funny: I didn’t think killing was a good thing before. now I don’t think killing is a good thing either. but it’s me, not others. a couple of years ago I was sure that the illusion of love is nutritious. now I’m sure only that love is an illusion. humanity is an illusion. Noah’s ark as in a fairy tale myth. only not a single religious character actually exists. after all: no Jesus will die in my place during the war. in the end: instead of me during the war, no Jesus will die. and it would be better if no one died. but what will kids be taught about in fucking world history classes in the future if no one dies?
