Ilhomova Mohichehra Azimjon’s daughter was born on August 22, 2010 in the city of Zarafshan, Navoi region. Member of the Republican “Creative Children” club. She is interested in writing poetry.She is interested in writing poetry. Author of many poems. Her poems are regularly published in Uzbek and English languages in prestigious magazines of Uzbekistan, Africa and Germany. Holder of many diplomas and certificates. In addition, she has won many international certificates.
She participated in competitions and won various prizes. Her poems were also performed on the radio station “Uzbekistan Radio” in Uzbekistan. Her poems were published in “Raven Cage” magazine of Germany, “Kenya times” of Africa, and “Smile” magazine of Uzbekistan. Mohichehra’s poems appeared on the Google network. Taking an active part in competitions organized by the “Creative Children” club throughout the year, she also received a 1st degree diploma and souvenirs. Her books “Buyuk orzular” and “Samo yulduzlari” are sold all over the world.
A memory
New neighborhood... New life... I was now living on my own streets that I had never even driven through before... Now every tiny thing in these places belonged to me. So I slowly got to know everyone. But there was one thing I could never make friends with... Children who live in a house a few houses away from ours! They were two boys and a girl, and to me they belonged to a group of pirates.
Every day, when I came home from school, I was worried about these "bullying" children, not about the barking dogs. I passed by that house slowly and silently. Sometimes, when they saw me, they would attack me with their stones or sticks, and I would run away like the wind. All three were much younger than me. But I was afraid. I had a terrible fear in my heart for them. They were always on the street…
One day I saw that landlord-father of the family in a very bad condition on the street. He was drunk and barely able to walk. Later, I heard a lot of bad things from several people. Only after that I started to think that maybe the environment in the family is not good either. How could such a family leader give good attention and love to his children. Then those "robbers" came to my eyes. They were almost always on the street. They played in their own way, they were happy in their own way. I started to like them...
One day I returned from school as usual. They were playing with mud on the street again. I didn't run away this time. I couldn't even think of escaping for some reason. The girl started coming towards me with a ball of clay in her hand. Laughed. I smiled and said "Hello". He ran towards the gate with a strange look on my face. On that day, my heart overcame the fear of those cheerful children and took the first step to make friends with them.
Later I became very close with them. We became sisters. After they went to school, sometimes we returned from school together. Our childish conversations were wonderful and pure.
After some years, we moved out of the neighborhood and I did not see them again. They are not on the street anymore. Games are also a memory of the past. It is unknown to me... But as a part of that space I loved, they are still in my heart... And, of course, they will be remembered with love and longing.
Shahnoza Ochildiyeva
1st year student of the University of Journalism and Mass Communications of Uzbekistan
I have been very interested in several professions since I was young. I have been trying to choose one of these professions. My future chosen professions are: teaching, journalism and working in the field of labor. As I grow older, I am interested in these professions.
The reason why I am interested in these professions is that the teaching profession is interested in the education of our country’s competent generations, the birth of children who will benefit our country – my teachers teach the students with kindness. My interest in the profession of journalism is that I try to do my part to prevent corruption, my interest in internal affairs started to interest me in the actions of people around me — when I look at them, I lose my spirit and hate them, for example, they get into a car accident and disappear without helping the victim. I want to open the open ones even more.
The professions that I choose are the ones that, in my opinion, are beneficial. I am writing this article with excitement as I focus on the teaching profession. Teaching profession is a very honorable profession. This profession is the most honorable of all professions. I admire all my teachers.
Life as a teacher is beautiful, because many students contribute to the development of literate, useful children. I am most proud and happy to say that, as our forefathers used to say, “the place touched by a teacher’s hand does not burn in hell”.
My parents have a very good relationship with my profession. My parents only pray to God that I will have a child who will benefit our country.
Heaven marvels at my father’s prayer,
Thanks to my mother who gave birth to me.
They are supporting me to become the owner of the Zulfiyakhanim award, which will benefit our country.
They have high expectations from me. If I serve my country faithfully, I will send my parents on Hajj.
If God wills, I will certainly become a student by enlightening the faces of those who believe in me and justifying their faith. May becoming a student be not just for me, but for everyone. After all, isn’t that the dream of everyone?
I want to show society the education I received from my family, that is, from my parents.
10th grade student of school 43, Karshi district, Kasgadarya regionQoldoshova Dilbar Nuraliyevna
Dilbar Koldoshova Nuraliyevna was born on March 5, 2007 in the Karshi district of the Kashkadarya region.
She is currently the 10th “B” student of the 43rd school.
Dilbarhan is the queen of poetry, the owner of creativity, a singer with a beautiful voice, and a ghazal girl.
She came first in the “Leader of the Year” competition.
1st prize in the regional stage of the “Hundred Gazelles and Hundred Gems” competition.
It took part in the “Children’s Forum” category and won first place in many competitions.
She is currently the coordinator of the training department of Tallikuron MFY in Karshi district.
Kamalak captain of the opposite district.
Head captain of the “Girls There” club at school 43.
The articles titled “Memory is immortal and precious”, “Our School” and “Mother” were published three times in Kenya Times International magazine in 2024.
In 2023, the first poems were published in the poetry collection “Yulduzlar Yogdusi” of the creative youth of the Kashkadarya region.
In 2024, ghazals of the creative youth of the Republic were published in the poetry collection “Youth of Uzbekistan”.
A person always lives because of the law,
Even if there is no law, there are few good things.
All feelings will be a mirage,
Blood and wine flowed from the cabbage.
Therefore, a new book was opened,
No-one does anything.
The law is equal for all,
Everyone is fighting.
Now the shadow at the beginning of the country will leave,
Twenty people's bread is baked
And now everyone helps.
Even the rain doesn't turn into puddles.
There is no stain on our country,
Now let the city and the garden flourish
I'll tell you what's in my heart
Let's keep our country alive.
Sitora Otajonova is Sodirjon's daughter. She was born on 20 December in 2005.She is studying at school in 11th class. She is crazy about writing poems and reading books. Her poems and articles are printed international journals.
Grant Guy is a Winnipeg, Canada, theatre maker and poet. He has 6 books published and his poems and satories have been published internationally online and as hard copy. He was the 2004 recipient of the Manitoba Arts Council’s Award of Distinction and the 2015 Winnipeg Arts Council’s Making A Difference Reward.
Today’s poems are very reductive. They reflect more of the micro theatre pieces I began during the time of COVID. In the micro theatre pieces the object or the gesture was the event. In today’s poems the words are the event. Each word and/or line can be connected as pieces of shards by the reader.
I remember when my last kid left without so much as a goodbye kiss, only the gift of a radio to keep me company. One morning, fighting with the static, I heard a deer bawl in the breeze full of musk, and saw the buck I’d rescued as a fawn. He must have still been hungry, twitching his tail like there was a message in it, because he came right up to me and nuzzled my breasts. So I fed him from his old baby bottle. He was so tame I barely noticed the antlers growing out of his head.
Celebration
This is the time when winter sunsets illuminate a trick of the dust. The dust floats in a tangle of rays and confuses the cat on the leather chair. The leather chair is too slick for cat claws. Those claws can’t stop the cat from sliding across the seat as if sliding across a waxed floor. The waxed floor is where the baby sits, watching the cat dance, clapping his hands and giggling. Giggles are like champagne bubbles ready to pop. Pop them, why don’t you–there must always be something to celebrate.
Dinner with Lady & the Tramp
The lady fights with sticks of spaghetti rising above the saucepan. Only those submerged in water bend to her will. The stiff bits hold themselves above the boil and she has to break them off to get them to drown properly. She’d wanted to serve him long strands, each of them eating from opposite ends until their lips met; but now the pasta has been demoted to pastina, and all those wet noodles, no longer long enough for twirling, slip off the plate onto his lap. Across the room, the garbage disposal turns on remotely. It sounds like a chainsaw.
Cheryl Snell’s books include several poetry collections and the novels of her Bombay Trilogy, and her most recent writing has been nominated for Best Microfiction, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net awards this year. She lives in Maryland with her husband, a mathematical engineer.
