On the Strand
He’s having breakfast
At a small cafe
On the Strand
In London
And a group of
Young Americans enter
They’re too loud
But at least they’re respectful.
Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”
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.