This article is a profile of Dilbar Ashilbayeva, the head of the Information Service of the Tortkul District Khokimiyat of the Republic of Uzbekistan, Republic of Karakalpakstan Bekchanova Manzura.

A WOMAN STRIVING FOR HER DREAMS

Woman. How subtle and capable of great deeds in His place. Flowers bloom on the paths a woman walks. Wherever a woman goes, it becomes a garden.

The person I want to tell you today is also about a woman who brought happiness and joy to her own life and the lives of those around her, possessing great courage in her small frame…

Dilbar Ashilbayeva was born in 1995 in the capital, Nukus. Life subjected him to trials from birth. However, Dilbar, who has been interested in science and professions since childhood, graduated from school with good grades and also mastered the sewing profession perfectly.  He graduated from Karakalpak State University with a degree in Karakalpak language and literature. Dilbar also loves sports. Recently, she took an honorable 2nd place in the Para Badminton Olympiad held in the Republic of Karakalpakstan. Currently, he is conducting another training on the development of the teacher’s activity.

Relatives – her mother-in-law Chaman Komilova, her husband Aymurat Allamuratov, and all other family members have a very warm opinion about Dilbar, who, as fate would have it, became a bride in the “Kaltaminor” village citizens’ assembly of Turtkul district. “Thank her parents for raising such a girl,” says her mother-in-law, Chaman-opa.

Speaking about his daughter-in-law’s qualities, he spoke with particular pride and emotion about her craftsmanship, diligence, and aspiration. I was frightened. After all, our cow is a bit reckless. “I said I’ll buy you a gentle cow, and then you can freely milk the cow,” the mother says sincerely and lovingly.

By fate’s decree, my son couldn’t walk after finishing his studies. We took him to many places, but there was no result. But even though my son sits at home, he’s always in motion, He knows several languages. He is very interested in chess, checkers, and computer science. After we united the youth, thanks to the opportunities created by our state for people with disabilities, my son also entered Karakalpak State University with his knowledge. Currently, he is in his 2nd year. But he doesn’t sit quietly at home. He doesn’t like sitting idle. He bought a black-and-white and color printer on credit and has been contributing to the family by producing the necessary paper. He also aims to educate children at school.

Of course, today, having talked with the families of these educators, seeing their interest in life, love and appreciation for life, mutual respect and attention, having talked with such sincere people, we witnessed how much strength, patience, and courage they have.

The director of School No. 10, where Dilbar Ashilbayeva works, and the deputy of the Jokargy Kenes of the Republic of Karakalpakstan, Sayat Gichgeldiyeva, also expressed their warm opinions on this matter.

Knowledge for a woman is a light for society

In our holy religion, acquiring knowledge is considered an obligation for every Muslim, both women and men. Why specifically for women? Because in the family, the upbringing, morality, and knowledge of a child largely depends on the mother. It is precisely intelligent, conscious mothers who raise a comprehensively capable, educated generation. In the development of such great figures as our great ancestors – Amir Temur, Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur, Alisher Navoi, Abu Nasr Al-Farabi, Abu Ali ibn Sino, there was a place and prayers for book-loving, enlightened mothers.

Unfortunately, in our recent history, in particular, during the last khanates, not enough attention was paid to women’s education. In some cases, there were even periods when they were strictly forbidden to study. But Uzbek women, whose blood reflected the spirit of courageous women like Tomaris, Bibikhanim, Nodirabegim, and Uvaysi, fought for education, to find their place in society, and to liberate their homeland from colonialism. They worked resolutely towards their dreams, despite all obstacles.

There have been many such heroes in our history. The Jadid movement was especially widespread in Bukhara. In the 1929s, many young people were sent to study in Germany and Turkey under the leadership of our Jadid grandfather Abdurauf Fitrat. Among them were future doctors like 17-year-old Khayriniso Majidkhanova and scientists like Maryam Sultanmurodova. They aimed to serve the country with science for the prosperity of the homeland. Because the foundation of any society that dreamed of independence was science and the experience of developed countries.

Unfortunately, the former Soviet Union did not allow this. They were afraid of the people who recognized their rights and fought for freedom. In 1938, along with intellectuals such as Fitrat, Abdulla Qodiriy, and Chulpon, young girls with lofty dreams were also shot. However, this tragedy did not make the girls who wanted to get an education give up their dreams or scare them. On the contrary, it strengthened their determination, perseverance, and thirst for enlightenment.

Omonova Sevinch Oybek qizi, 2nd year student of Tashkent Pharmaceutical Institute

————————————————————————————–

tucked behind the ear

my grandmother

always used to

say trust your

gut until you

realize the gut

has shit for

brains

i always kept

that tucked

behind the

ear

today, the shit

for brains part

came shining

through

but, as with

most matters

of the heart

love will make

it through

it conquers

everything

fear, ignorance,

cynicism and

the ever present

rejection

it’s a gentle

touch

a subtle

embrace

a soft kiss

on a rainy

day

the final battle

you have no

choice but to

win

———————————————————

just another transaction

your beauty is such

that i know i am just

another transaction

and as long as the

money keeps flowing

you’ll keep smiling

keep teasing

keep up the illusion

that this is something

real

that i mean something

tangible in your life

the magic trick truly

is to keep the teasing

going when the money

stops

even the dreamer in me

knows bullshit when he

sees it

———————————————————————-

a typical day on the farm

a woman told me

once i was fucked

i pondered where

she was going

with this

she continued,

dogs are man’s

best friend and

you have nothing

but cats

this means you

are either a communist

or an unlucky fucker

i suppose i should

start my manifesto

comrade

she laughed, took

another drag off

her cigarette

turkey vultures

circling overhead

a crow lands

in the yard

i lit a cigarette

and said i guess

we are putting

the conversation

on luck now

one of the cats

ventured a little

too far into the

back field

became an appetizer

for the coyotes

———————————————————————-

a cold reality

i hear laughter

in my nightmares

neon dreams of

strange women

that never want

to fuck me

like stepping in

a cold reality that

i have wanted to

leave for years

there’s a devil

in your kiss and

i hope that i don’t

have to cut yet

another deal

crossing over

state lines

counting down

the miles

sure, something

will go wrong

your life isn’t

a fucking dream

but the journey

will be worth it

you’ve seen

the destination

the curves and

soft skin

you know plenty

of worse places

to possibly die

in

—————————————————————–

just a wrong turn

step away from

the chaos and

remember love

think of those

hushed whispers

and stolen kisses

not about all the

years it has been

since any of that

has happened

in your life

pretend this hell

is just a wrong

turn in whatever

utopia you feel

comfortable in

of course, don’t

give the secrets

away just yet

the last twinkle

of hope still exists

in that dark sky

get high enough

and you can even

touch it

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, hoping to escape one day. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Misfit Magazine and Mad Swirl. You can find him most days betting on baseball games and taking care of his disabled mother. He has a blog, but rarely finds the time to write on it anymore. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Broken in Mid-Journey

Got stuck amidst our lifelong journey

Through a straight path, we walked

Now it seems the road has diverged

I struggled to mend each piece of guilt

But destiny has been against me.

Our connection met with silence

Leaving me adrift in a sea of doubt

Heavy thoughts covered my heart

I poured my emotions into a chasm

To correct what seemed irreparable.

I look forward to bridging the gap

For a connection that’s disappeared

Reclaiming our once-shared memories

Tho’ yet she remained totally unmoved

Leaving my heart pierced by her neglect.

Mysterious Guiding Light 

In the darkness of the journey,

Perseverance plays the role of a guiding light,

It beckons forth to the destination,

When a lost soul seeks its fortune,

Strength comes in mysterious ways.

Through an unknown path we step,

With confidence and courage,

We acquire unexpected strength,

Illuminate the path ahead so clear,

And all fears are totally overthrown.

Many challenges we see ahead,

But perseverance leads us free,

Life starts to blossom for sure,

When we dare to roam for life,

With each step forward, we grow.

The road may seem broken,

Life ahead may seem bleak,

Effort will show the way,

There lies a mysterious strength,

When the mind is busy with life.

Earthly Heaven

Keukenhof, where tulips bloom like fire

A garden of multiple colours

In it, individuals find an earthly heaven

Where nature spreads its beauty

An eye-catching display like no other.

Majestic tulips standing tall and delicate 

Expand heart-refreshing fragrance

We need it at least once in our lives

The breath of the Keukenhof tulip garden is divine

A treasure trove of man-made nature masterpieces.

Rows like rainbow lines in a tulip garden

Attracting the attention of sightseers

Wonder and magic lie there

A glimpse of paradise on earth

In this sanctuary, the heart finds peace.

A place surrounded by trees and flowers

Beautifully connected by sunshine

Windmill in the middle of the garden

Truly looks like a picturesque design 

Let’s get lost in the beauty of the Keukenhof Tulip Garden.

Faisal Justin is a passionate young poet and author who brings a unique voice to the literary world. Having spent four years as a refugee, he now resides in the Netherlands, where he is committed to furthering his education. Motivated by his dedication to the Rohingya community, he strives to amplify their stories and challenges, ensuring their voices resonate globally. Through his writing and advocacy, he aims to inspire change and foster hope within his community, believing that collective efforts can lead to a brighter future.

The Eyes Inside the Eyes

‎

‎While searching for love, a river is born

‎The waves of that river remain unknown for a long time

‎Or, remain unknown for a lifetime

‎The water of that river changes color as desired

‎The waves do not write the story of pain

‎Rainbows  illuminate the hanging dawn

‎The melody of the past trembles in the embrace

‎The spring moon falls prematurely

‎The sky becomes empty

‎The murdered lights suck life

‎The dreams with broken wings want to become windows

‎In the world of extinguished lamps.

‎

‎Now, the riverside settlement is on the side of the road

‎Life is elsewhere

‎The river walks on the boatman’s boat

‎The colony’s Royal Primary School sniffed by the boat

‎The sun of sadness burns in the wake

‎The eyes find the eyes inside the eyes

‎The memorable time does not burn in those eyes

‎The dream life swims in solitude

‎The ground melts at the station of estranged retirement

‎When will the train come, the whistle blow?

‎The organic evolution of existence questions the self

‎The symbolic self becomes a constant fraction.

‎

‎The brain remains inactive

‎In all the elements of the unconscious language of existence

‎I keep looking for love

‎In a passive obedient mind

‎I have no coffin of blood

‎Yet, the continuous bleeding in the rhythm of poetry

‎I have no primitive competition

‎Even in the midst of conflicting excitement

‎One day the flower of union will bloom on the wall of distance

‎If my nest is empty

‎From the womb to the grave, I desire you

‎That is not why I desire the happiness of voluntary death.

‎

‎Some people have a fierce desire –

‎To weave a garland of dew,

‎To be different from the wind,

‎To return to the womb again and again.

‎Some people have a longing to embrace death.

‎Feelings are awakened by the fire of desire.

‎For some, death is more pleasant than earthly life.

‎In my thoughts, life is a struggle.

‎Death is not a solution.

‎The only reality is the passenger in the vehicle of my imagination.

‎Happiness, sorrow are the opposite sides of love.

‎My love is not dissolved in the solution of anxiety.

‎

‎Let the soul full of beauty awaken in the color of struggle‎

Or I will live with that color.

Our Childlike Souls

Our childlike souls are hesitant,

restless, burning, loud…

They stumble over emotions

like running barefoot in the wet grass,

not knowing whether to laugh or to cry.

I don’t always have the words

to write what I feel.

Often, I just stay still,

searching in silence for what the heart longs to shout.

But you—

your words, even clumsy,

come to awaken mine.

You bring back impulses I thought extinguished,

tender angers,

new shivers,

phrases I would never have dared to lay on the page.

Love is kind.

Love is frightening.

Love both enlightens and blinds.

It touches even those

who claim not to want it.

It seeps through the cracks,

and sometimes, waiting blossoms into a silent miracle.

It also hides in those blurred friendships,

where glances say more than lips,

where gestures brush against something greater

without ever naming it.

I don’t always understand the situation.

But I dare.

I dare anyway.

I dare to hope despite the unknown.

I dare to look for you in the crowd,

to lose myself in your silence,

to follow you in the gentle shadow of your absences.

I dare to move toward you

even when everything tells me to step back.

I dare to drink from your laughter,

to share crumbs of light between two silences,

to watch you smile without saying a word,

and to spend nights guessing if you dream of me.

I don’t know where all this leads,

but I go—

with a beating heart, in a low voice,

with my doubts,

my impulses,

and this wild need to tell you:

I am here,

I am everywhere,

in this mad world,

in this blurred horizon.

—

II

The Smile and the Silence

A smile

does not mean

one is happy.

There are tears

in the heart

that never reach the eyes.

We come from a life

woven of contradictions,

and we leave it

without ever solving them.

We move forward

between shadow and blur,

head held high,

heart held low.

I leave hanging

the endless questions:

life,

death,

and the reasons to stay.

Sometimes,

a smile is a barrier,

a barrier against falling apart.

There are cries

we hide in our eyes,

screams muffled

inside silences.

And the one who smiles the most…

is often the one

nobody

understands.

A sad soul

A realist mind

—

Hanen MAROUANI

Strasbourg 07.08.2025

.

BIOGRAPHY:

Hanen Marouani is a Tunisian-Italian poet and researcher with a PhD in French language and literature, focused on Reported Speech in the Narratives of Albert Camus: An Enunciative Approach. She is the author of several poetry collections, essays, and articles, and her work centers on Francophone poetry, intercultural dialogue, and the visibility of marginalized voices.

She contributes to “Le Pan Poétique des Muses” as a journalist and literary columnist, and collaborates with the “Union of Arab Journalists and Writers” in Europe. Active in literary translation through “ATLAS”, she also leads workshops and community initiatives exploring creativity, humanity, and women’s voices across cultures.

A two-time laureate of the “Eugen Ionescu doctoral and postdoctoral research program” (2018, 2022) in Romania, she continues to combine scholarship and creation with strong intercultural engagement.

Her collection “Tout ira bien… ” won the 2023 International Poetry Prize of the Poéféministe Orientales Review, and she received the Francophonie Europoésie UNICEF Prize in Paris in 2022 for her literary work. Since 2023, she has served on the jury of the Dina Sahyouni Literary Prize, after chairing in 2022 the international poetry contest Poetry and Pandemic, organized by the Agence Universitaire de la Francophonie.

A brief synopsis of the book’s theme of “Common Era Literature”:

The “common era literature 2001–3000” refers to literary works produced during the 3rd millennium of the Common Era (CE).

A globalized perspective: Common Era literature reflects a globalized world, where cultural and national identities are increasingly intertwined. This is a departure from earlier literary traditions that often focused on a single culture or nation.

The influence of technology: Technology has significantly impacted the production, distribution, and consumption of literature in the 21st century. The rise of the internet, e-books, and social media has created new forms of storytelling and poetry.

Diverse voices: A growing emphasis on inclusivity has led to a more diverse range of authors and perspectives. Women, people of color, and individuals from various cultural backgrounds are gaining prominence in the literary world.

An exploration of contemporary issues: Common Era literature often grapples with contemporary social and political issues, such as terrorism, environmental concerns, and the impact of technology on human relationships.

Poetry Sample from the Book:

HAZY DREAM

by Jacques Fleury

A hazy familiar abstraction….

Like a decoupage painting

Designed as a distraction

Like watching you dreaming…

Mesmerized by a wistful whiff of

Melancholy and underlying yearning

for the joy of a blossoming aliveness.

You, a relay of impressionist painter Claude Monet

All while in the deep end of steep sleep;

I was transfixed and transported in your succoring still,

Even if for a sparkly shine of a firefly

Nestled in the arms of the numbing night,

Like the brevity of life itself…beautifully rendered

Even if only in your dream state;

Until daylight swallows the night

And dreams come AWAKE!

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Spirit of Change Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–