Future Leader girl of Uzbekistan

If  a person sets a real goal, if his intention is good, he will definitely achieve what he thinks.”


Author of translations of more than 100 scientific journalistic articles, participant of about 50 international forums and conferences, delegate of the Malaysian Youth Summit, participant of the international summits of the “Juntos por las Letras” writer’s association of Argentina. , Candidate of the “Double Wing” award of Uzbekistan. International speaker of “Shishiulash Global Youth Club” of Bangladesh.

Bakhora Bakhtiyorova daughter of Asliddin, a 11th-grade student of the 84th general education school of the Payariq district of the Samarkand region. The district has achieved several achievements in the region, the republic, and the international arena.

In particular, Bakhora  is a member of Pakistan’s “Women and Youth Organization for Education, Culture and Art. Ambassador. Global Ambassador Organization Argentina, New Zealand Leadership-based “Global Goodwill Ambassador 2023” India Foundation “Development of Technology Methods” .Member of Bangladesh’s global youth club “Shishiuluash” international organization. Member of The Kingdom of New Atlantic Heritage Organization. Member of Argentina’s “Juntos por las Letras” writer’s association from Uzbekistan.
Volunteer member of “Human rights” organization working in cooperation with “UNESCO”. Republic “Golden Wing” Association of Volunteers, member “Upward Growth forum” delegate.
Articles, Great Britain, Kenya, Washington,
Published in Argentina, India, Turkey, Washington, Uzbekistan.

In addition, Bakhora’s article was included in the anthology that was sold to 26 countries of the world.

Author Bakhora Bakhtiyorova
Future International journalist

An Unkindness 

They congregate in a sorrowful gale
Holding mourning souls in mist-o-pale.
Their callings, cawing; clawing ears.
A dirge for all those forlorn tears.
An unkindness of ravens surge
Their saddened song does purge.
Haunting as they remind of dismal days.
Taunting they scream in the dreadful haze.
Here does Death now call.
Where the curtains make a final fall.
Unkind is the Unkindness 
For Death knows no blindness.


An Ember of Tomorrow's Sorrow

Of all the sorrows my heart hath ever begotten
There are few which in grave will then be forgotten.
For over time I have passed many a threshold
That have closed to wounds that have grown old.
Still I have scars deep in my soul that fester and remind.
Some of which the origin of the wounds I have yet to find.
Phantom paper cuts of endless festering sorrow,
Fears of a drear from a hopefully distant tomorrow.
My monophobic thanatophobia paints a gloomy portrait
Of a dystopia that haunts from a future unknown date.
Death and I have carried this platonic affair since I remember;
Which is evermore but a faint glowing ember.
I fear when that sorrow becomes a flame.
When that ember burns with her name.


From South-Western, Michigan, Jerry Langdon lives 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.

The Play of Politics

Is politics only a play or game?
A play between a snake and a weasel
Or a tiger and a deer
The ruling and the opposition party
A continuous process over time and place
A struggle for power and pelf
In the name of democracy, the commoners cheated
But who wins the race?
Nature - set up with its own beauty and style
We cannot but charm to look at the sight
It is the twenty four hours round system
On the other side 
What do we do for democracy?
After a long line of death, a government takes place
System built, system violated
In this dire situation, so much blood shed
The experiences we gather break the heart 
Time opens its gate for some
Time takes some confined to bed
Politics runs with the toes of tigers or lions
Lambs and deer run so fast to escape.

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
28 October, 2023
	


Flash Flood and Firing

It was no rainfall last year here
Too hot in the summer in this year than so many years last
Nowadays it scarcely rains in the rainy season 
When it rains, rains days together
As the meteor shower in the atmosphere at the clear night sky
The warmth makes the body of the earth sometimes imbalanced
It burns somewhere in the forest 
The animals turn into like the burning coal in the fireplace
Again flash flood without any precaution
Inundates the homes and the croplands for sudden rainfall
Or melting the iceberg leaving hundreds and thousands of people 
In hunger, suffering from many diseases
How can we protect the world from being destroyed day by day?
Though so many meetings are called every year
Is there any result? 

Chapainawabganj,  Bangladesh
29 October, 2023
	

WISH

Wish to see that expected day;
A day of great happenings to come
In a harmonious strain of goodness.
Truly, I await to see that day!

Wish to see all bad days fade away
With darkness and all its gifts
No more to be seen when light 
Takes the reign at its hour of demise.

Oh! How I wish to be in the upcoming,
To tell how it began
Never to go back to the past,
To let bad memories be by gone.

Oh! I wish the intellects to be eminent
To change the world with a touch of inspiring ideas,
Destroying and healing her wounds with remedies
All to end up in the bosom of eternal paradise.

SiSTER FARANGIZ (For my Best friend and sister Farangiz)

Today I want to write about my sister-FARANGIZ she is my close friend, my helpful person.

Actually, my joy is endless, now at the end of the post I will tell you why, I am the most precious person, my pain, my shoulder, my friend, my guide, my advice sister
Actually, my sister is not Radnoy’s sister, she is my uncle’s daughter, but we are close in all things. When we are together, we are always happy and smiling. When I am with them, I always feel comfortable. They always support me.
I don’t need any friends! I rarely have a friend I can trust!
But I don’t need a friend when I have a sister!
They are my sister, my friend, my advisor, my pain, my understanding, my listener, my comforter, my encourager, my protector, my teacher, all of them are embodied in this person.
Sometimes we fight, but most of the time I think it’s because I get angry very quickly.
My sister understands this character.
Thank u for existence Thank u for all memorable moments.
My dear.
I can’t tell my feelings for u
Just love u

Author Bakhora Bakhtiyorova  Asliddin Daughter.
Was born 2006 21 March in the Republic of Uzbekistan.
Currently 17 years old.
She is a future international journalist.

Midnight Soul and Hay Meadow Heart 

Night comes creeping softly 
Like a ghost descending the stairs 
Dragging reluctant shadows behind it 
With a dark beauty that mystifies reality; 
Flooding my being with midnight skies 
And lining the walls of my soul 
With planets, suns, orbiting moons, swirling 
Nebulas and covering the Sistine ceiling of my soul 
With the layers of a million Milky Ways. 
My super-conscious is a blackness 
Lighted by a billion twinkling stars. 
There is just room enough left in my psyche 
To fill each crevice with the scent of new mown hay 
And the site of the burgeoning meadows of home 
Over-flowing the memory banks of my heart. 



Night and Its Shadows 

Night has come and shadows pace 
The corridors of forgotten memories 
And stops at the door of the vault 
Where unused dreams are stored. 
The shadow of longing whisks by 
The faint light left glowing 
On the memories of timeless love; 
The preciousness so close to the soul; 
That can never be forsaken 
Nor cast into the mists of time 
Unspoken, unused or wasted 
Or left waiting for the eyes of love 
To open and see what they never saw 
When longing was young and fresh as dew 
And dripping sweetness so heartbreakingly new 
And never gathered to an intended’s pulsing breast. 
Now the shadows glean the aftermath 
Of unrequited love and endless dreams 
Trapped like lost souls endlessly 
Seeking to find the elusive heart 
For whom they were always meant. 

Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.