I was born on October 1, 2005 in the Barlos neighborhood of Ishtikhan District, Samarkand Region, daughter of Sevinch Tirkasheva Bunyod. I studied at the 22nd general secondary school. And now I am an applicant, actively participated in various competitions and was awarded certificates and honorary labels by the school. My poems have been published in foreign magazines. And I am a participant in many anthologies. Currently, I am creating under the pseudonym “Sevinch_Shaydo”.
Boy!
My heart is full of love,
Only for you, my love, baby.
The meaning of life of your smileys,
Laugh more, I say, boy!
My longing is for you,
I miss you by my side.
A tiny piece of my heart -
You are restless like a bird.
Everything is embodied in your eyes,
To you who bound me.
I fly to the skies
To your one word "mother".
My patience is endless, the sky is endless,
My love for you, baby
Come to me quickly
Be my sustenance, boy!
Snow
No more cancellations, sir.
These snows fell on my heart.
My love can't be taken away
Unfaithful friends with a broken heart.
Closing overnight,
Satisfied with the sustenance of white particles.
Silver winter like a lover,
He rested his head on her skirt.
Slowly, whispering
Washes snow bubbles.
staring out
She is waiting for her husband.
Let your love shine.
Tuliyeva Sarvinoz
Uzbekistan.
Born on November 8, 1999.
Graduated from Alisher Navoi Tashkent State University of Uzbek Language and Literature (2023).
The winner of the state award named after Zulfia (2019).
Participant of the Zomin workshop of young artists (2019)
She is the author of the poetry books "Song of Peace", "I am a Girl of Truth", "Morning Poem". Author of the creative collection "Nurli Izlar".
About 100 creative works have been published in republican and foreign newspapers and magazines.
His creative works and articles have been published in Russia, Turkey, Germany, USA, Kenya, Great Britain.
Teacher of native language and literature at Shaikhontohur District Vocational School, Tashkent.
The goal
If you strive for a goal,
There will be a lot of friends.
If you agree with me,
The flower of desire also withers.
Did you fall, stand up quickly
Get up even if it hurts.
keep your head up
Don't be fooled.
Good luck if it doesn't come
Don't be sad and worried.
Don't bend, don't bend.
It is necessary to stand up for you.
There is wisdom in everything,
Do not wet your eyes.
Enjoy this job,
You will not be less than anyone.
Life goes on
Do not lose your passion.
Your flower goes out of hand,
Don't land the blackbird.
Numonjonova Shahnozakhon. She was born on June 7, 2009 in Fergana region. Currently, she is studying at the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov organized by PIIMA. Her creative works have been published in several international magazines and has various international certificates. The creator's future goal is to become an international ambassador and receive a state award named after Zulfiya.
Everyone faces various difficulties and obstacles in their life. In such situations, a person sees himself as a helpless servant who can do nothing and becomes depressed.
So, what kind of people do you think can overcome difficult situations and endure difficulties?
“Behind every work there is good.” as they say, only people who believe in their knowledge and strength, who have full faith in their hearts, who strive forward despite any obstacles, will achieve success…
You can see someone’s life and achievements and say, “Oh, I wish I could achieve such achievements.”
But the work is not done with enthusiasm, it takes effort and self-confidence. Your goal in life is not to be like someone else, it is important to be yourself, to have your own place, your own self. In this way, working tirelessly and acquiring new knowledge will help you.
Have you set a goal, try to achieve it! You can do it! You are a successful person! Move forward to great goals in life!
Tuliyeva Sarvinoz is the winner of the state award named after Zulfia (2019). She’s a teacher of native language and literature at Shaikhontohur District Vocational School, Tashkent and the author of the poetry books “Song of Peace”, “I am a Girl of Truth”, “Morning Poem”.
THE LINN JOURNALS (Luna, Indy, and Nova Notes, Dog Walking Documents)
(Sand and Stride)
Day Two, Part Two
Walk long down there, and then up the hilly parts in the stone and sand, well wrought are the lands, green and the trees watch on. They seem taller today, and the overcast sky is gone and I can see the blue, the little clouds puffy and new. Breathe. Stretch. Queens Lace grows everywhere and there are places where the grasshoppers live and others that have dragonflies. Strange mushrooms to the side. A bee. A bird. A waving branch. Calm. Nobody is around. No souls.
I ask the lady, for it has arrived to me for some reason, ‘Who was that psychic that saw your grandmothers? And the one grandmother told the psychic that her posture should be better and the other grandmother…no…the same one had a bird, a parrot I think, that she kept in life, on her shoulder in the astral plane? I want to see her. I think I have a card somewhere. I also want to see spirit like that,- with plane eyes in everyday life…’ and the sun is strong for late day, and I am talkative suddenly, ‘…it is still summer, that is for sure.’
And we go far, determined, with a healthy and long stride, purposeful, happily or at least contentedly. The sumac is there, and the long and wide field briefly appears, side paths, more trees, a gravel way. We enter a turn that is full of purple flowers that grow somehow tall, to above knee height, taller than the others- they are intricate and strong, interesting and confident. They have each other, and live in large groups. ‘It’s as if on this turn, in this certain area exactly, everything pollinated or seeded and grew at at once,- w/the perfect mixture of the right soil and sun, rain and whatever it takes. Hey, want a soda cracker?. Do you know the other day I heard something in the bushes and stopped to see if I could see anything, and a large woodpecker jumped up and flew out?’
Eventually we turn that corner and begin the journey back. But it’s for the most part level ground. ‘It’s better to get the hilly parts done on the first half, when we are fresher and really setting out. Then just stroll back easily…’ and we do. It’s still bright for such a time a day. In the winter it will be dark at 5:30pm. We’d better take this while we can. In the summer I complain it’s too hot and in the winter I whine about the cold. Spring and autumn are my real times. Times of change and cool goodness and comfort. Liminal. Sweater weather as they say. But for now,- we better take it, better appreciate it, better go with it all…
warning
a storm warning
the butterflies in my stomach
announced the summer plan to intercept
continuous distance
hair fell on hair
the sky turns red as if it knows
everything in advance
my hair fell for
the first time on your comb
which you will never use again
Basement
Human is the basement of the toilet room
Tenement maze of history and stories
No animal in the world has ever died for its cage before
No animal has invented aerial bombs
To first Octobers number
Suck my death
an unborn kitten is knocking at the church of a torn belly
the future flows like sperm from the wall of the gateway
my dead lover gets stuck in my throat where his cock used to hide during blowjob
I dream of having my throat fucked by a nuclear bomb
I dream in my dreams that instead of a strap-on a hydrogen bomb will stick out of my ass
I know that god will not pour anything into my balls during a handjob
mosquitoes and military pilots meanwhile fly towards the scent of blood
not a single military man gave me flowers
only somewhere in the dark a muscular sergeant said: hey fag suck my dick like before death
what if the ammunition depot where I'm already being fucked by a group of soldiers will explode from the fact that I'm so hot and sexy
suddenly I will destroy the army and piss all the military factories with my blood
suddenly I really will be fucked in a minute by the last soldier in the history of mankind
in the meantime they fuck me in all the cracks and call me a fag
I wonder if the soldiers have wives
I wonder how many lovers smeared the mouths of soldiers' wives with sperm
I wonder how many soldiers kissed their wives on the lips after that
I wonder how many nuclear bombs are produced in secrecy
I would like to grow longer hair and dye it blonde
the truth is hidden in the details of my anus
god fuck us all with your voice
we are tired of the silence of the red buttons
after which a nuclear explosion will follow
after fucking a new nuclear bomb will be born in me [?]
Brown town
In the heart of earthy hues,
Brown town,
A needle threads life's tapestry,
Brown town,
A need, a yearning palpable.
People encircle, form clay figures,
Silent echoes of existence,
Seated, molded by time's unseen hands.
Within, dwell stories untold,
Brown town,
Clay figures poised in quiet contemplation,
Sculpted reflections of shared moments.
my lover asked
my lover asked me when i first saw porn
it would be better if he asked something simpler, like how many times we quarrel with my husband
(sometimes it seems to me that love is too abstract a word for our painfully non-abstract world)
my lover finally pissed me off when he started talking about the non-binary nature of human nature
- I call you bitch to suck and not destroy our homosexual intimacy with the philosophy, fag, - I said to my lover while he turned into a statue
my lover is a beautiful antique statue but alas the statues don't have blood
my professional skills as a bloodsucker are now in question
my lover its: not reacted to my bites and slaps for a day
it seems to me that he sailed away into the cast-iron tunnel of the night
it seems to me that my lover dreams of flowers in ball gowns and without graves
death knocked on the back of the room and asked: whose house is this?
and this ruined house is now a ruin
the anti-missile installation of the heart has failed
the night in the eyes of my dead dead man will no longer dissolve
even explosions won't wake my lover
red sky like a bud revealed death
god's assistant pressed the wrong button again
аll in vain
We
Free
Freends
Friends
French fries
With self burger
We distance
We running
Running away from each other
vegetable garden
my body is a vegetable garden in which nothing grows
we're all hungry without the smell of fresh meat and cum
generals fuck tomorrow's dead for free saving on prostitutes
sun umbrellas and winter sleighs are in vain
sho(r)t (hi)story
I want the last nuclear bomb to explode inside my ass
the sun warms the cold body of my lover shot by dawn
the trenches are screaming but no historian
will tell about our buried feelings in the future
the stones are screaming but only the wind drowning in the river
will tell about our buried lovers
No title
the station of tears breaks out and thirst falls from the inside of the heart
let's go to my house, drink my blood, burst my capillaries, tear my ass, tear out my tonsils
meanwhile god's deputy keeps pushing the wrong buttons
onlyfa
the steak burned inside my stomach
the gun kills me but nothing will come out of my vagina
we drink only sperm
my eggs and balls strive for your grape nipple
still life of the world during the continuous noise of a siren
we drink only tears
one cocku
you drink the silence of my moan
and I feel uneasy about spring
which hasn’t come either
part-time
part-time job
being naked in the pristine ruins of houses
