Poetry from Liang Zhiwei

Older middle aged East Asian man with thinning hair and reading glasses and a blue collared sweatshirt.

Humanity Grows Cold in the Wind’s Howl

Spring flaunts its wild, dazzling passion across the fields,

Summer’s blazing hues vanish beyond the skyline,

Autumn arrives in gilded splendor,

leading a tribe of carefree immortals—

only to fade into winter’s bleak, snow-lit silence.

The Earth was never truly ours,

its soil long stained crimson with cold-blooded fury.

Thick snow blankets nature’s desolation, its indifference,

while melting patches expose the brutal history of beasts—

their savagery, their slaughter.

Only the wind understands humanity,

watching generations thrive and wither

amidst the drizzle’s murmur,

leaving behind untold secrets.

In the depth of blackened stillness,

a sound erupts—

a wolf-king’s simulated shriek, so piercing

it tears the night sky asunder,

scattering frozen stars upon the ground.

Who doesn’t yearn for the Earth to reclaim

its primordial grace?

June 12, 2025, Liang Garden, Shanghai

Liang Zhiwei is a famous antique collector and poet in Shanghai. Editor of the supplement of Shanghai Labor News. Member of the World Chinese Poets Association.

Essay from Nozima Ziyodilloyeva 

Women’s Education in Uzbekistan: Opportunities and the Path to Progress

Since gaining independence, Uzbekistan has undertaken major reforms in the field of education. In particular, significant opportunities have been created for women to gain knowledge and acquire professional skills. This is because one of the key factors in societal development is women’s literacy and their active participation in science, culture, and the economy.

Today, thousands of girls across Uzbekistan have the opportunity to study at higher educational institutions. Government-funded scholarships play a vital role in supporting them on this journey. These efforts are part of wide-ranging reforms aimed at strengthening the role of women in society and unlocking their full potential.

Scholarships and Quotas for Women

Special benefits and programs have been introduced for girls seeking education in Uzbekistan. Currently:

Separate quotas are allocated for female students admitted under state scholarships.

Through the “Women’s Register,” talented but financially disadvantaged girls receive assistance to pay their tuition fees.

Under the “Iron Register” and “Youth Register” programs, special privileges are provided to support girls’ education.

Presidential scholarships and other grants are awarded to encourage the academic achievements of outstanding young women.

International scholarships and global education programs are also making it possible for girls to study abroad.

Additionally, the number of vocational training centers for girls has increased in recent years, where they are trained in modern professions. The growing number of skilled women in fields such as IT, engineering, and business is a clear indication of this progress.

Progress in Girls’ Education

Currently, a significant proportion of students in higher education institutions are women. Across the country, many women are becoming leading specialists—not only in education but also in entrepreneurship, science, and social spheres.

In particular, recent years have seen:

A growing interest among girls in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) fields.

The establishment of business incubators and entrepreneurship development centers specifically for women.

Successful participation of Uzbek girls in various international grant programs.

Thanks to the reforms being implemented by our government, young women are now developing into competitive professionals not only within the country but also on a global scale.

Peace – The Foundation of Independent Learning

Today, young people in Uzbekistan have the opportunity to pursue knowledge freely in a peaceful and independent country. This serves as a solid foundation and a confident step toward a bright future.

In contrast, we see thousands of young people around the world being deprived of education due to wars, instability, and conflicts. In Uzbekistan, however, great attention is paid to education, and favorable conditions are created for the youth. As a result, our girls are realizing their potential in science, technology, culture, and various other fields.

Therefore, today’s youth—especially young women—must set high goals and make full use of the educational opportunities available to them. Because we, the youth of Uzbekistan, are learning with confidence in a peaceful nation and a promising tomorrow!

Nozima Ziyodilloyeva 

Student of Uzbekistan State World Languages University

Poetry from Naeem Aziz

Young South Asian man with a trimmed beard and mustache, short dark hair and a light green collared shirt. He's standing in front of a white wall with an Arabic character behind him.

Liberty or Death

They took our country from us,

They took our lands from us.

Yet could not chain our voice,

Nor silence freedom’s poise.

They burnt our homes to dust,

They crushed our dreams unjust.

But still we rise with flame,

With liberty in name.

They’re harming our people,

They’re killing our lives.

They are the most punishable,

In depth of our eyes.

Are you people ready for

Liberty or death?

Our goal stands for 

Liberty or death.

Our freedom is our breath,

Our oath is liberty or death.

We’ll break their chain,

Or perish in the rain.

Md. Naeem Aziz is a Bangladeshi Author, Writer, Poet, Engineer and Photographer. He is best known for his poems & photography. He was born on 10th December 1998. He is from Dhaka, Bangladesh.

Poetry from Paul Durand

First Grade Music Class – Is there Poetry Here?

A class of first graders sway and rock.

Beating rhythm sticks to a sweet children’s-tune,

while a happy cartoon raccoon bops from beat to beat.

Using the Prometheus-unbound board.

We learn about music together;

Knocking out together the rhythmic bones of music.

I-teacher joyfully shows out: bobbing, swaying, smiling, watching.

Showing each child how to enjoy, especially the boys.

“This is how it is done. You can do this too. It’s fun.

C’mon it’s a joy. Do this with me kids.”

You are under my care: watch, learn, act, enjoy, bloom.

You are safe in my classroom.

Skinny Latino girl with a yellow bow in her long hair.

Look at her sway and speak to herself, hitting her sticks.

She smiles, with happiness, enjoying within herself and with her class.

A tune so happy and carefree I-teacher feels young.

Little Latino girl, hair style from 25 years ago, or from the South.

Long, long hair, lovingly combed and curled here and there.

A bright yellow ribbon adorning her luxuriant hair.

Her mother, her grandmother love this girl and make her beautiful for school.

They style her hair in a traditional way, not realizing the differences.

I-teacher spot it, smiles, she is loved, tenderly so.

And those who love her, make her pretty in a style from decades ago.

My dear sweet child, lovingly sent to school.

by a mother and grandmother who work in town.

Will you be safe from the hate?

The hate that spreads like exploded napalm.

Will the fire of racism come for you?

Please learn to dance and to love, not to fear and hide.

Stay in my class my sweet child, under my protection.

No one will take you while you are in my realm and vision.

Once I-teacher overheard one Latino middle-schooler say to another,

“Ice is going to take you away bro.” A prophetic tease.

Some truth, some meanness, some fear.

I’m searching for the poetry here.

I see the singing, swaying, stick-tapping girl.

Learning musical rhythm joyfully.

Her out-dated hair style topped with a shining yellow bouncing bow.

Such a cute, happy gift to the world – a heart with a glow.

And the haters, the thugs, their strengthening apparatus’.

Mug like professional wrestlers to the cameras.

Promising to remove this child and others.

Today, under my care and protection

My innocent children learn about music and rhythm,

While, out there, hate mobilizes against them.

Essay from Abigail George

For the Drug Addict in the Northern Areas of Gqeberha (Port Elizabeth)

We are living in a Renaissance, the African Renaissance. Attachment to the anticipation for the future arises from having high levels of a false construct that is held deeply within our core, where our personality resides, and rooted in our consciousness. Addiction arises from need, the need for freedom. The addict needs love. They get unconditional love, self–worth, a feeling of no regrets, self-love, love of self that is unselfish, all-encompassing kind of love and self-acceptance from the ‘fix’. The addict needs to feel accepted despite the mistakes they have made in the past. If and when the past does not exist for the addict they feel safe.

They begin to self-regulate their nervous and auto-immune system. The addict wants control. They want to control the high, the elation they receive from the substance they are consuming recklessly, without any thought to the injury they are doing to their brain. Does the addict live in the past, constantly bringing up painful memories from a conditioned childhood that they had no control over? It is a form of insanity to live in the past. This is a simple and profound statement that leads to understanding what Deepak Chopra said, that addiction has to do with karma. All humanity has a higher intelligence.

This exists in the animal world as well. You cannot escape now. The addict exists in the past. They relive past trauma, adverse childhood experience. There is an attempt to control the pain, the thoughts of the environment they found themselves in as a child where the trauma took place, the persons who hurt them as a child, adolescent or adult. Addiction arises from the mentality and mindset of having not received access to love from the same-sex parent or either parent and not having received adequate care, concern and unconditional love from parent, authority figures like a teacher, uncle, aunt, grandmother or grandfather, elder, church leader. Nobody asks what the addict needs. The addict requires a life of intention. They need to cultivate habits that will restore and renew good health, a sound mind and body. They understand on a subtle level that addiction will lead to their downfall in society, overdose and even death.

Therapy can lead to a happier existence for the addict, talk therapy, joining a support group, receiving support from a loving and attentive partner who is an effective listener, and believing in a religion. They need the company of a good friend or friends that they can participate in meaningful activities with who is also an effective listener and who offers them support. There are tools that are instrumental for our survival and communication. For example, our thoughts, emotions and feelings are part and parcel of that survival.

The now is what we experience in the present tense, the fleeting moment that  is gone in a second and that can never be replaced. Change and transformation can take place in the drug addict’s life but only with the loyal support of their family. Isolating the drug addict will never work because they too need a community (see promiscuity, sexual misbehavior, rape, gangs, gangsterism and gun violence). Religion also has its role to play in the foundation and education of the psychological framework of the individual. Healing and recovery can take place. It is the addiction that is the residual effect of abnormal thinking, incorrect habits cultivated over time and brain damage. The addict’s brain is indeed damaged and not just by the abuse of substances but by not adopting society’s norms and not living by and accepting religious values and views, and ideas.

The notion of time is ever-present at the back of our minds as we, the human race, humanity, chart our course in this world. The world a drug addict lives in is a world that is unpredictable. The addict feels unsafe, deeply unloved, misunderstood, misrepresented, rejected, isolated and alienated from his peer group, his contemporaries. They face self-doubt and insecurity on a daily basis. For the most part they are unemployed, although there are individuals who suffer from and crave illegal substances who try to go out into the world and seek gainful employment. There is a stigma that exists in modern society against a drug addict in recovery. People feel they cannot trust a drug addict and that they haven’t really changed. They are just going to steal to support their drug addiction.

With aging comes grace and acceptance. Acceptance is a key equivalent to love, and so are accepting our past, accepting our shared history with family members, siblings, parents, aunts and uncles and cousins. I believe there is a genetic code within all of us that pre-empts what is going to happen in our lives but nevertheless human choice, individual choice, and the choice of the collective, the choices we make, whether good or bad, choices that give us, our brain, our physical bodies cellular networks, our psychological framework and network negative or positive feedback can also inspire the lives we lead at the end of the day.

What the drug addict wishes to do by taking, imbibing, consuming, injecting, abusing the illegal substance or buying over the counter prescription medication is to mask, veil, cover the trauma they were exposed to, experienced or witnessed, whether it was verbal, emotional, physical or sexual assault. I state this explicitly. The community can help. It starts with the family unit. Listening, accepting, talking, not rejecting, and not isolating the drug addict, because isolation can result in suicide ideation, relapse and hospitalization (a long period away from home). The drug addict comes from a dysfunctional family unit/background, a weak family unit. The drug addict possesses intelligence. They know and sometimes acknowledge that they are harming themselves. Addiction affects the entire family.

Poetry from Sayani Mukherjee

Bemoaned

The dripping drizzle of first summer dawn
The leftover pansies bloomed to its core 
I sang my morning symphonies 
Under the Greenberg oak 
The saddle of lost promised land 
The beaded sanctuary 
Waiting to be engulfed
A waning stormy moon
To questions and narrated agonies
A sea storm rained over 
Purging silhouettes under it's dark cavern
It bemoaned a devilish streak 
As if hanging under the churches of revelation
The green oaked smile 
Spoke to me
Its hands are gripping wet a cement of laugh 
A lull under the southern choir. 

Poetry from Leif Ingram-Bunn

I Will Conquer

I unto myself have drained

From the soul, from the heart, not from any face that perceives itself with courage

but one that does so with cowardice.

White on black, black on white, it does not matter, we are all failures,

floating, falling, feeling the fresh hell that we inflict unto ourselves.

I am not a cynic, I am a sinner, and sin is simply the consequence of a complex mind not yet whitewashed by the weight of their words has been freed by the burden

of pure reason.

Dear Diary, I am beginning to find that in fact I was made to be broken

For somehow I cannot look in an unfractured mirror without seeing a fractured face staring back at me, and why fractured if not with reason, why fractured if not so I may one day stitch my wounds again?

So, holy conqueror, I invite you.

I invite you to rise from the perch which they tell me you hold in the heavens

And show unto me your true face,

And once you have done so you may tear me apart, limb from limb,

For I myself am divine and seem to threaten the power you hold.

Wide is your reach, Heavenly Father,

Yet shallow is the depth of your teachings, soulless is the nature of your sermons, and what they tell me is clean and holy I have found to be cursed and reeking of filth.

Let these words be my last if their nature incites your rage

And merely my most meaningless if the deity unto which I speak them has no ears to hear, as I believe He does not.

He has turned a blind eye to the wasted earth from which he has left his children to feed,

And furthermore so ancient and archaic is he

That he has gone deaf,

Deaf to the cries and to the pleas so oft spoken from dry and dirt-coated lungs

To fix this charred and barren wasteland

And restore it to the glory which it once held but no longer mirrors.

So this is my promise,

My solemn oath unto those whom Thou hath so wrongly forsaken,

Delivered in Thy place but not in Thy name.

I shall take up arms and conquer.

I shall build an army of the most unorthodox ideals yours knows for mine knows

no bounds, no bonds, no inhibitions and no prohibitions.

No longer will I look upon my own face with cowardice –

I will look upon my face with courage and yours with disgust and disdain

For it now falls to me and those whose love truly is unconditional

And those who do as they preach

And those who preach as they do

And those whose behaviors do not sorely contradict their beliefs

To take up our arms

And bring this world the holy water

Or perhaps the unholy water

Which it so desperately needs to rebuild.

No longer will I look upon my own face with cowardice –

I will look upon my face with courage and yours with disgust and disdain

For this I promise –

I

will conquer.