THE MOTHER OF GOD

I want to gaze upon your gentle, smiling face,

as you quietly wrap your child in linen and cotton cloth.

His smile tells you

that a heavenly gift rests in your arms.

And then — a scream.

Your scream, for they are taking your Son to be killed.

I return in thought to the cradle.

You hold Him close to your chest,

singing softly as He drifts into sleep.

The next moment —

your inconsolable heart beneath the cross,

among wicked men

casting lots for the clothes He wore.

Two scenes intertwine:

life and death,

an image bearing the Son of God,

a body made into a temple.

And now… all carries the scent of death.

You loved Him with your whole being,

wished Him only good,

yet evil spun its snares

through the servants of darkness.

Only a tear of joy remains

as you lay Him in a wooden cradle:

 “Good night, my son.”

And a tear of sorrow

as you embrace His lifeless body:

“Please, call me to meet You soon.

Without You, this life has no meaning.”

It plays out endlessly,

like a film that never ends:

death, tears, salvation —

telling us: the death of the body is a beginning.

Mother of God,

Suffering One,

there is no greater pain than yours,

but no deeper comfort

than your eternal embrace.

For no suffering

is greater

than yours.

Maja Milojković was born in Zaječar and divides her life between Serbia and Denmark. In Serbia, she serves as the deputy editor-in-chief at the publishing house Sfairos in Belgrade. She is also the founder and vice president of the Rtanj and Mesečev Poets’ Circle, which counts 800 members, and the editor-in-chief of the international e-magazine Area Felix, a bilingual Serbian-English publication. She writes literary reviews, and as a poet, she is represented in numerous domestic and international literary magazines, anthologies, and electronic media. Some of her poems are also available on the YouTube platform. Maja Milojković has won many international awards. She is an active member of various associations and organizations advocating for peace in the world, animal protection, and the fight against racism. She is the author of two books: Mesečev krug (Moon Circle) and Drveće Želje (Trees of Desire). She is one of the founders of the first mixed-gender club Area Felix from Zaječar, Serbia, and is currently a member of the same club. She is a member of the literary club Zlatno Pero from Knjaževac, and the association of writers and artists Gorski Vidici from Podgorica, Montenegro.

DEVELOPING CREATIVE QUALITIES IN LITERARY EDUCATION

Namangan State Pedagogical Institute

Uzbek Language and Literature Department, 1st-Year Master’s Student

Muattar Tursunboyeva

Abstract:

This article discusses the development of creative thinking, independent reasoning, and innovative approaches in students through literary education. It analyzes modern teaching methods, interactive techniques, and tasks aimed at enhancing creativity in literature classes. The article also outlines ways to foster creative competencies through text analysis, character interpretation, and understanding the author’s message. Furthermore, it references advanced international practices.

Keywords: literary education, creativity, creative approach, character, interactive methods, text analysis, competence.

1. Purpose and Objectives of Literary Education

In today’s globalized world, one of the main goals of education is to form individuals who can think creatively and independently. Literary education plays a crucial role in this process. Literature classes not only cultivate aesthetic taste but also deepen thinking, foster imagination, and encourage creative approaches. Each teaching term has its specific goals and objectives.

The main goal of literary education is to develop students’ skills in analyzing literary texts, understanding the author’s ideas through characters, and providing aesthetic evaluation. The teacher plays a vital role in this by broadening the student’s thinking through methodological approaches.

2. What is Creativity and How is it Formed?

Creativity is the ability to approach issues in new ways, solve problems unconventionally, and think innovatively. In literary education, the following methods can be used to foster these qualities:

Analyzing metaphors and symbolic expressions;

Dialogic reading;

Role-play exercises;

Written creativity tasks (essays, stories, excerpts).

3. Interactive Methods and Creative Approaches

Nowadays, teachers enrich their practice with interactive methods such as:

“Fishbone Diagram”,

“Modern Editor”,

“Discussion-Based Presentation”,

“Conceptual Mapping”.

These techniques enhance students’ engagement with knowledge and promote a creative attitude toward literary texts.

4. Criteria for Assessing Creativity

When evaluating students’ creative work, the following aspects are considered:

Novelty of ideas;

Expression of characters;

Richness of language;

Ability to draw independent conclusions.

5. International Experience and Innovative Approaches

Programs such as PISA and PIRLS emphasize literary literacy and creative thinking as important criteria. In countries like Finland, South Korea, and Japan, special attention is given to shaping students’ worldview through literary works.

In literature lessons, the teacher selects methods based on the topic. For instance, the “Brainstorming” method, also referred to as the “Mental Attack” method in the second part of the 2022 publication Methodology of Teaching Literature, is widely used. Synonymy also plays an important role in literary education.

Conclusion

Fostering creativity in literary education not only increases the effectiveness of learning but also contributes to the student’s personal development. These qualities help young people grow into independent, creative, and thoughtful individuals. Therefore, every teacher should incorporate innovative and creative methods in their practice.

REFERENCES

1. A. Hasanov, Foundations of Creative Thinking, 2020. Bukhara: Zamon Press. p.118.

2. D. Xoliqova, Innovative Technologies in Education, 2021. Samarkand: Ilm-Ziyo. p.132.

3. Q. Husonboyeva & R. Niyozmetova, Methodology of Teaching Literature, Tashkent: Inavatsiya Ziyo. p.159.

4. S. Nazarova, Literary Theoretical Thinking and Figurative Reflection, 2023. Tashkent: Fan va Texnologiya. p.153.

5. Z. Abdullayeva, Creative Approach in Literature Lessons, 2022. Tashkent: O‘qituvchi. p.145.

Muattar Ikromjon qizi Tursunboyeva was born on August 6, 2000, in the Toraqo‘rg‘on district of Namangan region. She graduated from Specialized State Boarding School No. 18 in Namangan city and later completed her studies in the Uzbek language program at Namangan State University. Currently, she is a first-year master’s student at Namangan State Pedagogical Institute. From a young age, Muattar has been passionate about poetry and literature. Her poems and articles on various topics are regularly published in the media. Muattar’s goal is to become a highly qualified specialist in her field and to share the beneficial knowledge she gains with future generations.

8th of MARCH

(Women’s day celebration)

Tastes of falsehood

the smell of these flowers

offered by the hands

that so many times

left marks on my body

as many as the clouds in the sky

on a winter day

nor do I recognise

this smile of yours

marked by wrinkles

of a man who faces life

dragging with him

heavy the burden of impiety

Printed in my mind

your evil gaze

say when

you blame me 

for things never said or

things never done

pouring over me

your failures your defeats

I tell my pain

to the wind

the will to go

stifled inside me 

the cold you brought into my heart

chilly like the wind of Buran

the darkness in my soul

like the arctic nights

and ripped you have my hope 

and all my dreams

Of me

of the woman of yore

just a portrait remains

hanging on a wall

in this faded-walled house

where I wander as in a limbo

BECAUSE I AM LOVE

I wish I could sing
to cheer your mornings up
be a painter 
to portray your face
write poems to tell 
of my love for you
be joyful and bubbly
to colour of pink
your gloomy hours

Be lovely and
you proud of me

or clay to shape
according to your desires

And I could be fond of the sea
not to fear the storms
if you were a sailor
and devotedly wait
your coming back
from distant lands
because I am Love

She was only asking if her Matryoshka dolls would be safe…

                                         *

By the time I met him, he had a potato stone at the center of his grand synthesis

                                          *

He didn’t know he was a nervous wreck until Perry Como sang

                                            *

On his lonely way, he kept his hands at his sides until the diamond needle skipped 

                                             *

Instigators of unmanned aerial attacks know nothing about the whites of a child’s eyes

                                              *

Limping through eighty-four thousand Dharma doors to shake Yevtushenko’s hand

                                              *

Opening the koan with a yellow Lego I found under the backseat

                                              *

The adjunct professor has arrived at the pool with his scattered notes on lofty things

                                               *

When most alone, in the greenhouse ’round the praise of blue sage, she’s young again

                                               *

Horseshoes and hand grenades with every utterance

                                               *

It takes a green bile duct and a certain smirking, lickspittle disposition, to serve a tyrant

                                                *

Pussy willows in the vase, slowing the arrow of time

                                              *

The Roman Emperor Domitian, commanded the senators to kiss his knobby, yellow-bunioned feet during receptions…

Patrick Sweeney is a short form poet and a devotee of the public library.

MIRRORS OF LITTLE SUN 

Mirrors of little sun

ridges rushing with curtain

dark is bright behind carnival  

child transecting The Skeletal lampshades

bright halo faster with pink head  

vanished then hung stars down

the blazing

displayed bright supports with its  

strangely shining radiance

Bronze blasted Sun King wanted snow

his frozen head

like a blow from armor surrounded by shining deities

glowing eyes polished around the blade

spectators saw him unwrap his golden feet

the zero of moon region approaches Sun machine all fused

but earth edge turns galaxies off its golden haze in

the water maidens see nitrogen like methane glowing

A FABULOUS MARBLE DREAMED ON RED GLASS

A FABULOUS marble DREAMED on red GLASS  

a Butterfly IS YELLOW pumpkin and pop

daisy aftershave

soft peppermint Sausages with cake

cock of sandpaper in blue ice lake

fallen peach Candied BETWEEN the skirt inside of

pink tabletop touching crunch with pop

pink sunshine and blue apples  

then another between the legs

with chuckling woodchuck and freaky cone

clock made of pudding

penguin wearing sombrero OF hard sunshine

Eating a marble peppermint and talking to a woodpecker  

SUN in skies under yellow Lake

glass eyes floating in wooden belly

Bunnies pecking corners with Candied lips

breast hops between fuzzy tabletops

ANTIQUE MOON

Submarine with green flesh

bubbles with swarms of bees

empyrean universe filled with ghosts

folded back the jungle as

mist crowns little lakes  

Chemical wind roars

world collapses slowly

waitress forces salts beyond

the pyramidal structure

Empire under thick edges of chopsticks in creased sea

GRANULAR sky polished cloud  

flashing to misted Book buried in darkness

spheres disappear in milky skies

strumming folded fringes in a carbon buzzer

Or harps of ice found hazy rays of jeweled atoms

Blisters looking from the sparkle pulses

recombining floating equations

disconnected in cobblestones

five surfers handed his hats to Blood compounds

infinitesimal CLUSTER an opalescent dream

Kierkegaard the sweet rubbing world

the antique moon disturbing particles through

Little boxes wearing EASTER with intricate gears

pill opened by dull darkness ironed

Roman

 off

HILLBILLY BEES

I saw tables inside tiny rooms  

there the sand drops two forbidden nose cones  

HILLBILLY BEES on a blurry Road  

fuzz approaches with one of the beetles

chieftain sent yellow cone but

space benches would double him

unclear efforts moved to March

clearly someone with gold glass of photos and a talking

system photocopies with corkscrew

Historic animals flip before   

washed shirt or glass of buzzers  

Helga couldn’t bestow a tube that sent dozens from vapor

STORM linen wearing the standard deduction

constructing numerous evenings

which formed and blended

a grim cheer of Bundles when

Neptune saw only Small rimmed etching

CONCENTRATION CAMPFIRE

Swampy crocodiles in

wrecked fluorescent dimension

rain dress shrank her armor

brightness scalded thunder

fire clusters hide shake dimension

focus generators flag electric springs

feather lanterns vanish

cheeks elliptical

assembling continuous drift  

accumulate system vortex

Shelley bruised pillow and cloud

from relaxed incandescence

pink sardines curled freeze arrangement

dented women on confused face magnet

ringing top the juice curfew

thick insect surrounded

lost lozenges of haggard kisses

with hands embroidered groups of

transposed gas planets

POLTEXT

The risen is unbearable

sudden brightness through trigger profits

their galaxy dreams of 22

distant Hardtop without the poles

cyclones flick those silent crystals

smoke falls where ghost seconds against pieces

their mountain systems choreographed despite silver rust

oblivion islands glow in five Ray process

THE wounds had accepted faded bottles

poltext cocked the disintegrator

Chicago shrank into blue hares

black sky pale in the golden time

stepping transparent brightness

denouncing range through melted wire

regressing to the mandatory parentheses

Africa felt hatch of fluttering color

trees dissolved with Aldebaran out of ICE police

hot pressed metal whispered from forbidden consequences

Monday in tiny glowing crack of TWITTERS and decomposing crummalite

the manda grass around nylon gun is GLOWING

closed skull tries swiftly the glimpsed room

ash separator hop and long palms through world liquidation

The timejector pulsation creeps on tomorrow  

then the call was spinning on Machine for pink hours

again picture pressures THE computer candy

but dotted 16 oscillations over crylon bars

burning owls give small covering for folded hands

Gregory Wallace has been making art of various kinds for at least 50 years. He was active in the mail art scene in the 80s and participated in international mail art exhibits and correspondence. Mr. Wallace was a founding editor of Oblivion magazine and has published several books of poetry including The Girl With Seven Hands, The Return of the Cyclades, and Exile and Kingdom Come. His artistic activity encompasses poetry, collage, sculpture, assemblage, photography and painting. His work has appeared in Typo, BlazeVox, #Ranger, Black Scat Review, Clockwise Cat, and many other journals.

Life is very short. We face various obstacles throughout our lives. Our life consists of lows and highs. But trials make us stronger. They teach us how to live in life. In any situation, the important thing is not to give up and not to repeat the mistakes you made. The best way is to To see the good in situations and to be an example of our successes to those who have done wrong. Even if everyone abandons you in these trying times, your parents, the key to heaven, will be by your side and your encouragement will be there. My parents never fail to help me, both in our happy days and in our difficult times. My dad is a true hero and a great source of confidence for me. They always support me. Not only my father, but all fathers in the world are ready to sacrifice their lives for their children. For every girl, her father is the strongest person in the world. The greatest happiness for a father is to see his child grow up, and he is ready to do anything for this. He sacrifices his own health to see his son perform on big stages and achieve success. Dad is a selfless man who sacrificed his own health for us, giving up precious time for us.

One incident that touched me was when my brother was sick and my mother took him to the hospital with tears in her eyes. That’s when I realized how difficult it is to raise a child. I love my parents very much and my biggest dream is to be a worthy child for them. When asked what happiness is, I answer that it is happiness to have my parents and to be able to breathe. The real wealth is when your parents say, “I believe in you, daughter,” and that is a great strength. Our mothers are our angels on earth, and our fathers are our heroes. I would like to conclude my speech with one sentence. Behind the most successful people are strong people who support them. The strongest people behind me are my mother and father. I love them very much. And making their dreams come true is my biggest goal. If I stop moving and get tired, I remember what my dad said. You have to be a big man. Of course, I will make my father’s dreams come true.

Eshtemirova Jasmina was born in Yakkabag district of Kashgar region. Holder of international certificates. Knows and continues to learn English and Turkish. Holder of a national certificate in her native language.He has won honorable mentions in many competitions. He is a participant in the district stage of the Young Reader competition.”Ilhom tomchilari” “Soʼzlarimdan jahon eshtsin” “Koʻngil kalitlari ”  actively partipated in the publication of books with  articles and creative works Her dream is to win the Zulfiya Award and make her parents proud.

With Achievement

Everyone’s eye on the light,

The light is attracted to the brilliant.

Improve life by keeping in the light.

Everyone wants to live with respect and respect,

Many do not know that respect and respect are not cheap.

Gains respect in the work of achievement,

To everyone is valuable in valuable work,

Life is on the way to Tatini.

Achievement in one’s own hands,

If you work hard, Your own life must improve.

In the hope of the dream of the dream, in the hope

Only if the equation of reality will shine the light of hope.

In the eastern sky, the clouds are frozen, the clouds are erased over time.

Life is shaking the light of hope,

You have to move on with it.

Short biography: Amb. Dr.Priyanka Neogi from Coochbehar. She is an administrative Controller of United Nations PAF, librarian, CEO of Lio Messi International Property & land Consultancy, international literacy worker, sports & peace promoter, dancer, singer, reciter, live telecaster, writer, editor, researcher, Literary journalist, host, beauty queen, international Co-ordinator of Vijay Mission of Community Welfare Foundation of India.