Poetry from Stephen Jarrell Williams

Speaking Now

Speaking now

a ringing in my ears

almost a singing

I heard when I was young

looking out my window then

at night from my bed

stars so distant

cold and watching me

feeling alike

no words 

only a sense of knowing

their world

and my world as a child

a song unfinished

never rehearsed

but coming back

hoping

we share the end.

Ecstasy

The long moon ride

can’t sleep

the ecstasy above

out in the vacant field

I catch hold

not sure how

but I’m hanging on

upward and gliding

dreamlike

in awe

breathing forever

the face of earth within.

The Race

Ran the race

and didn’t know how

well I’d done

until the words came out

on the glow screen of now

bright as sunlight at night

telling me all the secrets

in one pop of sight

one final heartbeat in time.

Bubble

You never understood me

loving you in my bubble

floating over every second

of us

in our lifetime of love

loving everyone and all

like the poets we are.

Essay from Ozodbek Yarashov

Nothing Changes Until You Change

Nothing is changed until you are changed. Many people spend their lives waiting for tomorrow, believing that time itself will improve their situation. They think that one day everything will become better without taking any real action. However, time alone does not create change; only personal effort does.

Imagine that you do nothing except sit in your chair for one hour. What has changed? Almost nothing. You may feel relaxed, but your life remains the same. Now imagine sitting in the same chair for two hours or even longer. Instead of improvement, your body becomes tired, and you may struggle just to stand up. This simple example shows an important truth: doing nothing does not move us forward. In fact, it can slowly harm us. Progress requires action, even if that action is small.

Real change begins when a person decides to act. Every small step taken today shapes the future. Waiting for the “right time” often becomes an excuse for fear or laziness. Time helps only those who move with it, not those who wait for it to pass. If someone wants a different result, they must become a different version of themselves through discipline, effort, and consistency.

In conclusion, life should be lived in the present, not postponed to tomorrow. Understanding that today is the only moment we truly control is the key to success and happiness. Change your actions, and your life will change with them.

Chatgpt also helped me. 

I am Ozodbek Yarashov and I live in republic of Karakalpakistan, Turtkul district. I am a young curious person and I am interested in English (in fact, my English is almost C1), and math. In the future, I am going to be a developer, not just a developer, but a developer who changes the world! I always believe in myself. I recommend to everyone, change your thoughts, change yourself!

Poetry from Dr. Ahmed Al-Qaysi

Older Middle Eastern man with a big hat and reading glasses, a suit and dark coat, standing in front of a textured painting of a woman in grey with a yellow umbrella.

And jasmine remains white,

no matter how treacherous the seasons may be.

Like the heart of a child is your heart,

and like your presence in my life — a secret of eternity,

planting in my heart roses that never wither,

no matter how many years pass over them.

You are a melody that never loses its glow,

no matter how tired the fingers grow,

a pulse that never fades, even in the fiercest storms,

O child of my heart.

When you draw near, words fall silent

out of reverence for your presence,

time becomes perfumed with your gentle scent,

and I feel as though I breathe another life

within your heart.

Like rain after a long thirst,

in you I find the meaning of purity

when purity is lost in this world.

You are warmth when winter betrays me,

a refuge for gentle souls when the dark winter night frightens them,

and the heart’s reassurance

when souls tremble.

Your love remains pure in my heart,

no matter how fierce the storms may be.

You are my homeland and my light

when the path is lost.

The song of my heart,

and the song of the soul when silence fails it.

In your eyes, I find both safety and wonder.

My wish, my little one —

in the warmth of your hands

I discover that time can stop

in reverence for a sincere moment.

O purer than all the verses poets have written,

secret of dew and whiteness of dawn,

you are the branch leaning over

the balconies of Damascene shanashil,

over ancient windows and doors,

O fragrance of jasmine.

Your presence with me

turns all seasons into an endless spring.

And jasmine remains white,

no matter how treacherous the seasons may be.

Poetry from Slobodan Durovic

Middle aged Eastern European man in a  brown coat and eyeglasses outside on  a sunny day.

NESUČELNI SUĐENICI

Nerazvejan na repove konjma 

po predelu šupljem ko sačma

kad jezgrom otvori crno oko

pa belim usijanjem se raspe

tako te ljubljena polulud iskah

dok cela vaseljena mi se ruši –

zgromljen iznutra od groma

ko nepokajnik pred Zidom plača

pod zemlju ukopan, a skokom

hoće nimbus tvoje čari da naspe

iz studenca, između dva vriska

mog i tvog neodaziva u tmuši –

Okrenula si se plamteća kometo

a nisi Euridika, čežnja da te mori

niti ja Orfej no hiljadita žica

na harfi, izbledela od haba

neukog carića što je svračka

podražaj slušao mesto slavuja –

pa ko propali muzikant svetom

glavinja, osrednjak koji se bori

da njegovo naličje vide s lica

i po trbuhu lupa se, ko dabar

a svi zvižde jalova da se tačka

što prije okonča, ta bujad –

Koja divne cvetiće bi da potre

i grmuše s lati što se glasi:

jedino si me ti slušala revno

uhlebljem bila što me hlebi

ko kad se od žbuke umeša cigla

koju su prokleli zidatri, vrgli –

ko najurenog trubača sa smotre

što više nigde da se skrasi

ne može – svud za prekorednog

drže ga, premda svija se tebi

zmijom ne bi li ga zmajem digla

iz tame adske božanskoj kugli –

UNFRIENDLY JUDGES

Unswayed on horse tails
through the hollow landscape like a shot
when the core opens a black eye
then crucifies with white heat
so I, your beloved, half-mad, have cried out
while the whole universe is collapsing to me –
crushed from within by thunder
like an unrepentant man crying before the Wall
buried underground, and with a leap
the nimbus of your charms wants to rise
from the well, between the two screams
of mine and your unresponsiveness in the gloom –

You turned, a flaming comet
and you are not Eurydice, longing to torment you
nor am I Orpheus but the thousandth string
on the harp, faded from wear
of the ignorant little emperor who listened to the shrew
as a stimulus instead of a nightingale –
and like a failed musician in the world
a hub, a mediocre one who struggles
to see his reverse side from the face
and beats his belly, like a beaver
and everyone whistles in vain so that the period
can end as soon as possible, that bujad –

Which beautiful flowers would you like to chase
and bushes with a lati which reads:
only you listened to me zealously
you were the bread that breaded me
like when a brick is mixed from mortar
which the masons cursed, threw –
like the most decorated trumpeter from the parade
who can no longer settle down
-everywhere for an outcast
he is considered, although he curls up to you
like a snake in order to lift him
like a dragon
from the darkness of hell to the divine sphere –

Poetry from Mesfakus Salahin

South Asian man with reading glasses and red shoulder length hair. He's got a red collared shirt on.
Mesfakus Salahin

Everything is Dead

‎Even in a city where there is no clock, time walks

‎The sun melts and night falls in the womb of time

‎Time learned to walk, long before the clock was born

‎You were born before it

‎And I was born before you

‎Our love was born even earlier.

‎I wanted to touch the language of your fingers

‎Billions of years ago, waiting for my fingers

‎The limit of distance was infinite determination

‎I haven’t touched you yet

‎I’m running like a cloud

‎I’ve written so many poems by borrowing the blood of the sun

‎I have written miles upon miles of poetry in your eyes

‎My gaze is not tired

‎Everything is dead in the house of the dead

‎Not a single poem has found the address of your heart.

Poetry from Timothee Bordenave

Young white French man with short brown hair, stubble of a beard and mustache, and a brown scarf, holding a giant seashell up to his ear.


An adventurer, at home.

The soft, suave scent, of these burnt lavenders,

Dwells my mind, whilst I quietly write this poem,

In my living room, books and paintings, masks and gems,

Just keep still… All around the silence reigns over.

Blessed be, o Lord ! Thy peace, granted to a poor boy,

Came with the faculty to work, and learn your books…

I can pray now Thy love, in this shrine full of joy,

Rich refuge for my life, which I am glad none took.

There are the jewelry, tailored clothes, lithographs,

Sea shells and silver lamps, ivories, or gold rings…

All reminding of past battles. – My humble being.

Then I will read the Psalms, the Gospels and some Saints !

Before writing a stance, a try, until I faint…

To express gratitude ! As for an epitaph.

*****

A Christian poem.

When I pray Thee o Lord, my voice, humble but proud,

Raise inner, for Thou knows everything of me,

Then I try to write down, speak up, but never loud,

No for we are not much. Before Thy great army.

We are children to Thee, though. Salt grains for the Earth…

We are friends to the birds, colorful like flowers…

We can be good workers, until the last hour,

We can be good servants if we know what we’re worth.

The paradise immense, where will live forever,

Those amongst us who choose to be His believers,

Is like the treasure a peasant finds in a field…

Soon this field acquired, then the riches revealed,

Everyone will think this person has been wise.

Be pious, be gentle, love, hope… – Jesus advises.

*****

The poet plans for work.

You see me now, well quiet, at my library desk !

Director here. Further, I hear cars passing by,

Further, I see grey clouds… The silence is at stake,

Calm, as I read Plato : moments some wish could buy.

Then I take my pen on : I will write for Roma,

For the woman I love, her lips, their aroma…

I will write for Paris, for London, for Madrid,

For a farm in the snow, then for my youth in need.

I want to write again ! For a trip to Jersey, 

On a boat, whilst a storm was raging the Channel,

I want to write about hiking, and this tunnel…

In Geneva when I questioned my survival.

I will write about my past girlfriends – when opals,

Drizzled from their glances on our soft Odyssey !

*****

Timothee Bordenave is a French author, a poet, novelist and essayist. He has published many books both in French and English. A part of his writings has been translated to various languages and published internationally.

He is also a visual artist as a photographer and a painter, whose works have also been widely shown, in France like in many other countries around the world.

Born in Paris, France, in 1984, he still lives in France today, partaking his days between the capital town and countryside properties. He first worked as a library director, before shifting to be a fulltime author and artist. 

His interest to culture and creativity has brought him to be very active in the local French art community, involving himself notably in the organization of art events for his friends.

Essay from Dildora Xojyazova 

Young Central Asian woman with a white blouse and earrings and long dark hair.

Historical Monuments of Uzbekistan: Timeless Witnesses of Uzbekistan 

Uzbekistan, located at the heart of Central Asia, is one of the world’s oldest cultural crossroads. For centuries, it served as a key hub of the Great Silk Road, connecting East and West, North and South. As merchants, scholars, travelers, and conquerors passed through its territory, they left behind not only goods and ideas but also magnificent architectural monuments. Today, Uzbekistan is home to hundreds of historical sites that reflect the rich political, spiritual, and cultural history of the region. These monuments are not merely remnants of the past; they are living witnesses to the rise and fall of great civilizations and continue to shape the national identity of the Uzbek people.

Samarkand – The Pearl of the East

Among Uzbekistan’s historical cities, Samarkand holds a special place. Often referred to as “the Pearl of the East,” Samarkand is more than 2,700 years old and has been recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The city reached its golden age during the reign of Amir Timur (Tamerlane) in the 14th century, when it became the capital of a vast empire.

The most iconic monument of Samarkand is Registan Square, a grand ensemble of three madrasahs: Ulugh Beg Madrasah, Sher-Dor Madrasah, and Tilla-Kori Madrasah. These buildings demonstrate the pinnacle of Islamic architecture, with their majestic portals, intricate geometric patterns, and vibrant blue tilework. Registan was not only an architectural center but also a place of education, public gatherings, and intellectual exchange.

Another remarkable monument is the Gur-e Amir Mausoleum, the final resting place of Amir Timur and his descendants. Its massive turquoise dome and elegant interior symbolize the power and ambition of the Timurid dynasty. The mausoleum later inspired the design of other famous structures, including the Taj Mahal in India.

Bukhara – A Living Museum

Bukhara is often described as an open-air museum, as it has preserved its historical layout and monuments remarkably well. With a history spanning over 2,500 years, Bukhara was once a major center of Islamic theology, science, and trade.

One of the most impressive landmarks in Bukhara is the Poi-Kalyan Complex, which includes the Kalyan Minaret, Kalyan Mosque, and Mir-i-Arab Madrasah. The Kalyan Minaret, standing nearly 47 meters tall, was built in the 12th century and has survived numerous invasions and earthquakes. Legend says that even Genghis Khan was so impressed by its beauty that he ordered it not to be destroyed.

Another significant site is the Ark Fortress, an ancient citadel that served as the residence of Bukhara’s rulers for centuries. Within its walls, political decisions were made, cultural life flourished, and the fate of the emirate was determined. Walking through the Ark today allows visitors to imagine the daily life of medieval rulers and scholars.

Khiva – A City Frozen in Time

Khiva, located in the Khorezm region, is one of the best-preserved historical cities in Central Asia. Its inner city, Ichan-Kala, is surrounded by massive clay walls and has been listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Unlike many ancient cities, Khiva’s historical center remains almost entirely intact.

Among Khiva’s architectural masterpieces is the Kalta Minor Minaret, famous for its unfinished yet striking appearance, covered in blue and green tiles. The Juma Mosque, with its 218 carved wooden columns, reflects ancient construction traditions and artistic craftsmanship. Each column has a unique design, some dating back to the 10th century. Khiva’s monuments reflect the cultural identity of Khorezm, a region that made significant contributions to science, mathematics, and astronomy. 

Shakhrisabz, the birthplace of Amir Timur, is another important historical city in Uzbekistan. 

The Dorus-Saodat and Dorus-Tilovat complexes in Shakhrisabz include mausoleums and mosques associated with Timur’s family and spiritual mentors. These monuments highlight the deep connection between political authority and religious life in medieval Central Asia.

While Uzbekistan is widely known for its Islamic monuments, its territory also preserves traces of pre-Islamic civilizations. The city of Termez, located in the south of the country, was once an important center of Buddhism along the Silk Road. Archaeological sites such as Fayaz-Tepa and Kara-Tepa contain remains of Buddhist monasteries, stupas, and sculptures dating back to the Kushan period. These monuments prove that Uzbekistan has long been a land of religious tolerance and cultural diversity. They enrich the historical narrative of the country and demonstrate its role in global civilization.

Since gaining independence, Uzbekistan has placed great emphasis on preserving and restoring its historical monuments. Large-scale restoration projects have been carried out, and many sites have been adapted for cultural tourism. At the same time, efforts are being made to balance modernization with historical authenticity. Historical monuments today play a vital role in educating young generations, strengthening national pride, and promoting Uzbekistan on the international stage. They attract millions of tourists each year and contribute to economic development through cultural tourism. The historical monuments of Uzbekistan are far more than architectural achievements; they are symbols of human creativity, knowledge, and resilience.

From the grand squares of Samarkand to the quiet streets of Khiva, each monument tells a story of a civilization that once flourished and continues to inspire the modern world. Preserving these treasures is not only a national responsibility but also a contribution to global cultural heritage. Uzbekistan, with its timeless monuments, stands as a bridge between the past and the future, inviting humanity to learn from history and value cultural diversity.