Treading Water Winded, throat burning, I’m feeling the taunt of the finish line How many things in aging body and my life need fixing— how many relationships are set akilter Whimsically, try sometimes forgetting the balance, shut the laptop, listen to the rain on the window On a quiet afternoon, when my face studies yours, what psychedelic radiance glows within irises? On the night of a party, I wonder who will flick off the room’s lights and watch the night-shadows when we leave. Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Most recently, she has contributed poetry to The Dawntreader, Meat for Tea, The Opiate, orange juice, The Stray Branch, The Nature of Things (Lone Mountain Literary Society), and more journals.
Category Archives: CHAOS
Poetry from Mahkamov Mahmudjan
Lifetime cost
They say life is a fast flowing river
Confluents mean everyone you know
They say fate is different from wishes
It is necessary to obey him without going against him
The measure of every step you take is clear
You do not create tomorrow
Sometimes your life is cloudy, sometimes it’s clear
Reminder flows day and night
Life is full of wine
Who likes it, someone likes it
Sometimes he takes your heart and carves it
After all, he has a pen in his hand
You will pass through various roads
Put different faces on your face
Waving at some people slowly and casually
Some will take place in your heart
In this way, the life of a person will be spent
Some live contentedly
A precious opportunity given
Those who have passed away are unhappy with fate
About the author
Mahkamov Mahmudjan was born on February 19, 2004 in Koshtepa district of Fergana region. In 2022, after completing the 2nd Specialized state comprehensive school in the district with a gold medal, he was recommended to the Namangan State Pedagogical Institute as a student on the basis of a grant. Today, he is a student of the National Idea, the foundations of spirituality and law education.
Coordinator of the Faculty of Social Sciences of the primary organization of the Youth Union of Uzbekistan Namangan State Pedagogical Institute.
Until today, he has made several achievements.
In particular, 3rd place winner of the regional stage of the “Young Reader” competition, “Intellectual Olympiad-2022” and “Zakovat” among higher educational institutions Participant of Intellectual Weekly-2024.
2nd place in the nomination “The most active propagandist student of the year” at the institute stage of the republican competition “Student of the Year-2023”,
Winner of the 2nd place in the reading contest “Connoisseur of History Collection”,
Winner of the 2nd place in the Student Olympiad,
Winner of the 3rd place in checkers at the Students’ Week,
Participant of “League of Bookreader students”.
Story from Rizwan Islam
My Birthday Party Birthday is a memorable day in one's life. This is the day when a person was born. Children around the world celebrate the day in different ways. My birthday is in March. Every year, I celebrate the with my friends. My parents ask my friends to come to our home and have a party. My parents decorate the house nicely. My father orders birthday cake. My mother usually buys me a new dress. In the afternoon my friends come. They bring gifts for me. The cake is placed on a large table. Candles are placed on the cake. When the programme begins, my friends stand around the table. I blow the candles and cut the cake. My friends sing the birthday song and wish me. On this occasion, my mother 36, prepares delicious dishes. We enjoy the food. We have a lot of fun. My birthday is one of the memorable day for me. Md. Rizwan Islam (Talha) is a student of grade six in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Poetry from Xushroy Abdunazarova
My tongue that entered my ear as lullaby, My valiant tongue in the bosom of the ages, I will write you every moment, My blood, my language, oh, my motherland. Come strolling, meaning my language, Always sing like a nightingale my tongue, It has the spirit of Navoi, he has Babur, Let every dialect be beautiful, my language. Every word has a hundred meanings in my mother tongue, Every flame is a fire in every heart, Everything ripples in this language, Endless treasure, legend in my tongue. This is my language, which the whole world respects. This is my language, inherited from my ancestors. Abdunazarova Khushroy was born on December 21, 2008. She is 15 years old. Currently, she is a pupil of 8th grade of the 15th DIUM of Mingbulak district, Namangan region. She is interested in English and Mathematics. She wants to become a interpreter in the future. And also she is a member of the international organization "All India Council for Technical skill development".
Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh
Birds die faster than dots in poetry The necks of letters are much longer than the necks of birds Birds, like poetry, do not know how to beg Birds die, but so do poems *** The air left the composition of the sadness of the stomach Wooden night covered the dead Iron worms sewed up limbs with immobilization What street is this? Why is it so dark in here? And this is not a street, this is life and death *** I want vegetables to die and not one child to suffer anymore at a diet dinner. *** The meat screams at the pennant with red silence Worms crawl out of coffins to the surface Minced meat crawls out of the meat grinder Corpses crawl into eyes and ears The world around is destroyed in the pupils of the shot man What can world poetry talk about besides war? *** The cat tears up the mouse just for fun A grenade tears a child apart because it has to be done The sky moves and the clouds float forward Mom cooks breakfast like no one is dead *** Worms crawl underground After the rain worms crawl to the surface We read the letters of the rain on our faces We crawl in a pool of blood without limbs Winter is beginning It's nuclear winter *** Snow will forgive the grass everything We'll all fall asleep in the snow and grass We will be buried in snow and grass But we won't have children anymore Who will bury us? Nuclear stations are growing like mushrooms The forest turns white as a mouse The ashes fall asleep Ashes in the snow *** Light for the blind *** no one died in the cemetery again *** the trees are silent like the dead before they are cut down *** sound conservation a bird reads a blizzard with a glance *** cemetery without grave almost like a church without parishioners love without lovers mountain without a bottom god without religion
Poetry from Noah Berlatsky
Introduction To The Collected Works Berlat sky’s early lyrics gave way to the later intense focus on the early lyrics which some bodhy should have fuck -ing proof read
Artwork from Mark Young
