Interview with poet

Bahar Onen Buke

Conducted by Eva Petropoulou Lianou

Dear poet and author

1-Please share your thoughts about the future of literature.

When u start writing?

Bahar BÜKE: I have been interested in poems and writing poetry since I was a child.

Poetry is also like a brain gymnastics. It improves the ability to think about the harmony of words, descriptions, deep meanings and also empathy. It imposes compassion and love. Humanity really needs it. Therefore, the poem must spread quickly. It is necessary to especially encourage the new generation of young people. Words have power. There are some poems that are like advice. Some make it sad, some poetry gives hope. Therefore, poetry is the virtue of being human.

It is not possible to say anything clear about the future of literature, but there will definitely be those who serve literature after us as before us.

The presence of young writers and poets is very promising for the future of literature.

2- The good and the Bad.Who is winning in nowadays?

Bahar BÜKE: I know there are really strong pens that can’t make your voice heard.

It is my only wish that efforts are valued.

It takes a lot of effort for success. Let the success of the real workers, not the strong one..

3- How many books have you written.And where can we find your books

Bahar BÜKE: My poetry book called “The Woman in a Black Coat” is my first and only printed book. It is on sale on the sites of my publisher (Ange Publications) and all elite bookstores in Turkey, especially Amazon.

I’m preparing the second book. My file is almost ready, I’m waiting for the right time for the publication of my second book. I’m not in a hurry. Because my poems are already on newspapers, literature magazines and literature websites. It is often read by professional poetry interpreters on poetry radios.

4- The books E book or Hardcover book . What will be the future?

Bahar BÜKE: E-book is like a blessing of the digital age, but I still prefer to read by smelling books and turning the pages. Unfortunately, the economic fluctuation in the world also affects publishing houses and printing. This situation causes some writers/poets to prefer e-books.

5- A wish four 2025. A phrase from your book.

Bahar BÜKE: I hope poetry spreads to the souls of all the people of the world like a virus. It evokes emotions such as empathy, compassion, friendship and brotherhood.

It is a quote from my poem “The Woman in a Black Coat”, which I named my book: “The rain falls into the foggy, hazy streets of the dark city

And a woman in a black coat is alone on the streets

The wind caresses her hair on the sidewalk while walking

Tears are flowing from his eyes, he kisses his cheeks

Even if he erases it with his occasional trembling hands

His eyes are quite persistent…”

…” Every story has a soul. That soul is reached with the eye of the heart. Open the eyes of your heart, open it so that the world becomes beautiful, open it so that your world becomes beautiful”

Thank you so much

Bahar BÜKE: thank you very much.

Long live literature

Long live poetry

Long live art

Turkish writer/poet Bahar Önen BÜKE was born on March 6, 1984 in Balıkesir / Turkey. She is the author of the poem book “The Woman in the Black Coat”. She is published in many literature magazines and literature websites with her poems. At the same time, with her author identity, she meets the reader with his culture, art, literature and magazine news on news websites and printed newspapers. Author Bahar BÜKE, who said “Poetry is my way of life”, has recently been preparing for her second book. She continues to actively serve Turkish poetry literature.

1.MY SILENCE

Is a holy silence, completely

United spirit, soul, body, 

By silence and prayer

Astrally connected to the essential 

Nature, free from ego, vanity

Worldly worries, doubts

Illuminated by pure love

I open my eyes, listen to the beats

Of the heart, my breath is calm, 

Energetic scars healed, 

Resistant to the deceptions of material 

Delusions, Illusory realities,

Bad conclusions, others’ and my own

I am free, I believe

In God’s providence, let it be… 

2.Poem

In the beginning was the Word

The Word was the living God.

And there was light.

God gave it to men to

cover the darkness.

In his unconditional love, he gave man thought to learn and progress. 

Soon thought took over. 

The man and woman began to

demand more, anger arose.

Little by little, they began to attack

all that was holy, the love from which

they were made, and the Truth that testified

to their existence. Anger threw

a stone at the truth, unable to bear its 

ugly, distorted, evil face.

Then the lie appeared, wanting to humiliate 

it and threw another stone. 

Not knowing

to defend itself, the Truth sought refuge.

All this was seen by cunning, luring it

out of hiding, offering protection.

Sincere as it was, it believed, made

a mistake and came out. At that moment, Pride and Jealousy appear, now so distraught over their true face that they could not bear. The light is covered by darkness, ashamed of the naked, unprotected truth. Everyone wonders where God is, why the Creator allows everything to happen before His eyes. God is love, He gave us free will. Man is prone to abuse it, he can do whatever he wants for a while, but not for as long as he wants. Light is stronger than darkness, the truth will come out and show itself when the time comes. Until then, we are given free will to reconsider our actions.

Biography

Melita Mely Ratković 

Born in Yugoslavia, married, mother of two sons. After the collapse of the state, from one of the former republics there, Croatia, she moved to Serbia, where she still lives today in the city of Novi Sad. She has been engaged in poetry since she was young, she is talented, she studies foreign languages ​​and is engaged in translation.

Translator of Spanish, Portuguese, English, Bengali.

Profession and cultural activity: Literary ambassador of Serbia in Brazil and Spain.

Accredited as an international ambassador of the Circle of the International Chamber of Writers and Artists

 CIESART

 With the authority to initiate cultural activities authorized by the presidency of the Circle of Cultural Ambassadors in the World, non-profit, for the dissemination of the work, its author and its erudition, especially taking into account the altruism and peace of the people

She participated in the HYPERPOEM Anthology for the Guinness Book of Records

Participated in several anthologies, world heritage. 

She was nominated as one of the 50 important women of Europe”

In Rome, Italy, on November 11 and 12, two very important events were held at the Pontifical Antonianum University _ the conference of world literary leaders of the “50 Important Women of Europe” project.    

Global Federation of Leadership and High Intelligence

Winning the 2023 “Zheng Nian Cup” Literary Award Third Prize by the Beijing Mindfulness Literature Museum. 

 The winner 

  V PLATINUM EAGLE 2024

 GLOBAL FEDERATION OF LEADERSHIP AND HIGH INTELLIGENCE

  OFFICIAL DIPLOMA

  WALHAC World Academy of Literature, Art and Culture

MIL MENTES POR MÉXICO Internacional

World Awards for Excellence

She is an immortal academician of the following academies:

 INTERNATIONAL AMBASSADOR OF “GAONES” For Serbia, 

 (Gaonesa is a literary structure created by writer Edwin Antonio Gaona Salinas from Ecuador

AIAP – ACADEMIA INTERCONTINENTAL de Artistas y Poetas – Brazil

 Academia Mundial de Cultura y Literatura AMCL – Brazil

Academia de Música y Literatura Artística – Brazil

Academia Democrática Independiente de Escritores y Poetas – Brazil

Biblioteca Mundial Academia de Letras y Poesía – Brazil

CILA Confraternidad Internacional de Literatura y Artes

Academia Feminina Global de Letras AFGL

Philosophy Of Life

Do not seek grace in artificial glory,

Test of time cannot face reality,

Stone takes time to carve into a precious gem,

Do not get strayed in the darkness of ignorance,

Heart and soul shine when following divine light,

A positive character on the right path leads to success,

The love of humanity should come first of all,

Lack of unity brings nations to a big downfall,

Cowardice brings disgrace publicly,

Martyrs live forever with respect and glory,

Grace by divine power places you very high,

Prostrate before Him with a humble strive and sigh,

With every breath, seek truth and righteousness,

And in your heart, let love and kindness shine bright,

For in the end, it’s not the glory that we hold,

But the love we share, and the light that makes us whole.

In today’s career-focused world, people have different views as to whether paying salary to workers depending on their productivity is a better approach to motivate them to work harder, particularly in professionally advanced communities. While there is a wide range of alternatives for encouraging employees to work harder, I firmly assert that paying salary based on their production and sales plays a crucial role for both employees and organizations.

First and foremost, there are obvious alternatives for motivating workers to work better. Once companies enforce free holiday opportunities for those who work efficiently, this makes a big difference in terms of a greater feeling of agreement and contentment, leading to a productive working process. So, workers are highly likely to be motivated easily. Furthermore, building a collective responsibility among colleagues in companies can be another method for encouragement. To be more precise, if workers learn how to collaborate, it seems unsurprising for them to experience a sense of leadership while simultaneously trying to show off their capability to their boss, thus resulting in a greater number of sales or production.

Meanwhile, despite these arguments, proponents of paying salary to employees based on their productivity cite compelling reasons to support their stance. To clarify further, productivity has been prevalently acknowledged for its effectiveness—a feature that sets it apart from other job sectors that pay all workers equally. As a result, it seems logical for companies to impose a certain amount of salary based on how much an employee produces, thereby motivating them to work harder. The more they produce or sell, the more income they earn. A good case in point can be my country, Uzbekistan, where a new initiative has been set up so that even part-time workers earn more due to their high amount of production or sales than full-time ones.

To sum up, although other initiatives such as cooperation among colleagues and free holiday chances offer some benefits, I strongly believe that only by paying workers based on their production or sales can we ensure that they take responsibility for working effectively.

Jasmina Rashidova, daughter of Bahodir, born on November 23rd, 2008, in the Shakhrisabz district of Kashkadarya Region, Uzbekistan. Currently, I am a 10th-grade student at the 74th school. I have earned recognition in various educational grants and have actively participated in international MUN conferences and meetings. I have also won several education-related contests and competitions, and I am a finalist in “BBG”, “FO”, “Katta Liderlar granti’25” and “VHG.” In addition, I run my own online teaching channel. I am also proud to be the recipient of a major leadership grant for my #pixelart & JR | INTELLECT project.

The souls of the Jadids are eternally in our hearts 

Mardonova Marjona Muhsin kizi

Student of Polytechnic No. 1

Tel number:998-94-326-58-50

Abstract:

This article talks about the selfless Jadids who fought for the people, showed that science is an important factor, and raised the flag of the homeland to the skies. Who are the Jadids themselves? What did they do? Why are they called Jadids? These questions are not relevant for the Uzbek people, because the people of Uzbekistan highly respect their ancestors. The bravery and heroism they did in our past are immortalized in epic books in different languages. It is not difficult to learn from their lives that the Jadids would not have survived even death for the homeland during their lives. Most Jadids died early from this life, while some faced death in the very prime of their lives. But they died early not from death, but for the foundation of the homeland. Of course, these terrible events can shake the human heart, but we must understand that they wanted us to speak their names on our tongues, not with tears, but with pride. That is why the Uzbek people keep the souls of the Jadids in their hearts forever.

Keywords:

Jadids, enlightenment, spirituality, progress, reforms, people, self-sacrifice, science, struggle, commerce, generation, cultural heritage, research, prosperity

Introduction:

It is not for nothing that we named the title of this article as the souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts. Today, let’s bring together the Jadids who fought and strived for our current peaceful life. True, there are so many of them that if we wanted to write about them, we would create a book, but we will cite a few.

1. Mahmudkhoj Behbudiy, one of the founders of the Jadids, was one of the representatives of his people with a number of books, articles, and poems.

 2. Abdulla Avloni, one of the representatives of the Jadids, a poet, a teacher, an enlightener of the Shura period and a number of other creative figures

3. Shepherd, a national artist of Uzbekistan

These are the founders of the Jadid school. Selfless heroes who fought for the homeland

1. Jaloliddin Manguberdi

2. Amir Temur

3. Zahiriddin Muhammad Babur

Our scientific and writer ancestors

1. Alisher Navoi

2. Abu Ali ibn Sino

3. Hamza Hakimzoda Niyozi

These are just representatives of the Uzbek people, how many more of our ancestors fought for Uzbeks.

Main part:

Thousands of heroes around the world fought for their homeland, their names are sealed in books, we can only read about their heroic deeds in books because they fought for our prosperity and independence. If we write thousands of articles and books for them, we must show them again and again for the younger generation that they are still with us, and this is necessary, regardless of what nationality we are from.

Conclusion:

We, the youth of Uzbekistan, will never tire of showing the world the bravery of our Jadids, and this is our duty. This article was written about the Jadids of Uzbekistan. Let us be grateful to them for the peace and prosperity of our homeland, which the Jadids have done for us. The souls of the Jadids are eternal in our hearts

References:

1. B. B. Islamov – Jadids and enlightenment

2. Sadriddin Ayni – Esdalik (memories)

3. Khurshid Davron – Jadid

The Value of a Life

. . . the wellsprings of creative phantasy 
which make life worth living.— Anthony Storr

What makes it worth the mocking 
of what you cannot have,
the fog of what you cannot know,
the mortality of what you love,
the meanness of humanity?

Many say “Love”
but do not believe it.
Others say “God”;
few become saints.
Some say “Humankind,”
but they litter history with corpses.

Then someone gives it a name,
and it shines bright above you,
a lamp of enamel and gold.
Or, far away, it sings,

drawing you down a nave
toward the shadows
of the choir, the carved 
panels above the sanctuary
and the tomb of your fathers.

It is a fairy tale 
you tell yourself in the night
against the treacherous body, 
a broken bell that coughs like a patient
warning you of questions you cannot answer,

against the night flies dancing in the beam
of a weak flashlight
as you walk, from darkness
through darkness toward darkness,
toward a point of light small as a star in the black woods.

_____

Christopher Bernard’s book The Socialist’s Garden of Verses won a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award and was named one of the “Top 100 Indie Books of 2021” by Kirkus Reviews.

Before the Final March

Dear Love,

The stars shine too brightly here tonight—

just like they did the night we met.

The sky is calm, almost too calm,

as if it’s holding its breath for the storm to barge in.

And yet I lie here in the open,

savouring the silence for the first… and maybe the last time,

wishing you were beside me.

Life never seemed so precious until today.

We received word—we might not win.

Still, I promise you:

we’ll give it our all, even if it means giving up our lives.

And yet, the air doesn’t feel heavy.

Maybe it’s because I’m too light.

I may not live to see tomorrow’s night.

So, forgive me for spending every last precious second thinking of you—

so close in my heart, yet so far in reach.

Are you awake now?

Are you under the same sky,

looking at the stars the way I’m looking through them—searching for you?

I wish I’d memorized you better.

Your soft brown waves, how they used to fall across your eyes,

the way your laughter lingered on your lips after I kissed you—

those are the only things I’ll carry with me,

beyond the end.

Funny how I’ve bled in battle,

but nothing hurts like bleeding on paper.

But this—this letter—is my soul, laid bare for you.

Be strong, my darling.

Even when I’m gone, I’ll live in these folded lines,

watching from the stars,

guarding your smile.

It’s raining now.

Does time ever feel guilty for all it steals from us?

Maybe even the sky wants me to say goodbye.

If there is a life after this,

I’ll find you—I promise.

And I’ll spend forever making up for this stolen time.

Take care of my better half—

I’m leaving it with you.

I will always be close.

Always.

Adieu, love.

The tears that stain this page—

they are the only ones I’ve ever shed.

Not from sorrow…

but from joy—

that I had you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Yours always,

One Man Army

The Girl Who Never Died

The grey sky wept louder than any crowds ever could.

A blackened coffin lay still beneath the withering roses.

No one mourns her but silence itself — the only one who ever knew her.

I stand by the grave, a stranger in my own story.

The girl in the coffin looks like me — only softer, calmer, stilled.

A shroud of sorrow, regrets, and betrayals hugs her tight.

I weep without tears — trust me, she’s done it all her life.

Her eulogy speaks of dreams made of broken, bloodied wings.

How do you mourn someone who still breathes beneath your skin?

She never asked for much — only to be seen, loved, and understood.

In return, she gave it all: her softest heart, its steady beats made of trust,

hope, empathy, and so much more.

But they cracked her open like porcelain —

her shattered pieces bled until there was no more.

Yet her smile never faltered…

until the world quietly erased it too.

So I bury her with every ‘sorry’ I never received.

I know she forgave — until she forgot herself completely.

Her eyes remain open wide with trust.

Mine — hollow.

I reach for my past self’s hand — one last time,

as a flower blooms, sealing wounds that once gaped wide.

The Earth closes above her… and I open within.

She died unknown, unheard —

but I rise from her ashes, stronger than ever.

“I won’t forget you,

but I will not become you again.

Rest now, far from pain.”

That’s all I say,

before I walk away.

Where Silence Begins

The days slipped by—slowly, steadily,

like raindrops tracing forgotten paths down a glass,

and all I could do was watch.

Time, silent and sharp as frost,

unfurled its shadowed wings,

stealing all I held close—

moments, faces, laughter lost to wind—

until nothing remained

but this hollow ache.

Empty.

Alone.

Afraid.

I don’t fight anymore.

I am tired—bone-deep, soul-worn tired.

Weary, like the moon, hollowed by sleepless nights.

Maybe…

it’s time for rest.

Not sleep, but something softer—

eternal, gentle rest.

So—adieu, my dearests, my darlings.

This is not where the story ends.

We will meet again,

somewhere beyond the bend of time,

where stardust sings and silence cradles the broken whole.

But for now,

I must go.

Time beckons like a tide that will not wait.

Let not your tears fall for me—

they ache deeper than you know,

like salt on an open wound.

As I sail toward the golden light,

a hush fills the sky.

I turn for one last glance—

the world a blur through tear-stained lashes—

and bless them

with all I have left—

and more.

“Goodbye,” I whisper,

as my hand slips from theirs…

And I drift—

not falling, not flying—

just fading,

into the abyss.

Unknown.

Unspoken.

Unheard.

But never… unloved.