Đśy country
The sun shines in the blue sky
Casting light shines magic
Wakes up early in the morning
Giving love to mother earth.
My independent land is my motherland
Blooming, living forever
Let us play and sing in your bosom
Remember every breath you take.
Ruzmetova Zuhra Vyacheslavovna November 30, 2006 I was born in the city Urgench, Khorezm region. There are 6 of us in the family my father my mother my brother my twin and me. I am currently a student of the 11th grade of school no 14 in Urgench city. I appeared on the international website "synchronized chaos" and I am the coordinator of the this international site. My poems have been recognized in more 10 countries. Every week I am guest on Khorezm TV channel. I am the holder of badge "For the international Services"🏅by the bi wing poets writers Association. I am the winner of competitions of more than 100 national and international organizations. I have a B2 certificate of knowledge of the Turkish🇹🇷 language. I have many future dream goals.
Winter
The fury of winter stirs,
It's snowing, white snow
The wind increases to blow,
Frost is coming in a hurry.
Filling the earth and sky
This soft snow is scattered.
The tree bowed its head,
Strange snow spread.
On the face of the long corridor
Bent trees,
On the stooping branch,
Birds twitter.
It shakes in a row,
Quiet wind branches,
Snowflake hits,
Stroke the faces.
Caressed by the soft wind,
Laughing in a circle
In the winter air,
It's fun to spend time.
Nosirova Gavhar was born on August 16, 2000 in the city of Shahrisabz, Kashkadarya region of Uzbekistan. Today, she is a third-year student of the Faculty of Philology of the Samarkand State University of Uzbekistan. Being a lover of literature, she is engaged in writing stories and poems. Her creative works have been published in Uzbek and English.
In addition, she is a member of «All India Council for Development of Technical Skills», «Juntos por las letras» of Argentina, «2DSA Global Community». Winner of the «Korabl znaniy» and «Talenty Rossii» contests, holder of the international C1 level in the Russian language, Global Education ambassador of Wisdom University and global coordinator of the Iqra Foundation in Uzbekistan. «Magic pen holders» talented young group of Uzbekistan, «Kayva Kishor», «Friendship of people», «Raven Cage», «The Daily Global Nation», Argentina;s «Multi Art-6», Kenya's «Serenity: A compilation of art and literature by women» contains creative works in the magazine and anthology of poets and writers.
I remember when I was a 10-year-old girl. I used to blame myself for something. In our school, I used to participate in the “Yosuman” club organized by my sister Jasmina. It was thanks to this sister that I took the first steps to “Qaqnus”. There I met a teacher named Beknazar. He did not want to be addressed as “teacher”. That’s why we used to call him “brother”. In the last months of 2018, I became an official member of the “Qaqnus” club. According to Beknazar brother, this name was named after the historical Qaqnus bird. That is, when this bird knows that its death is near, it burns and turns into ashes, and from these ashes, a new Qaqnus polapon appears. I heard that this is how Qaqnus got the name “bird of eternity”. In addition, this bird has 100 holes in its beak. Different tunes come out of all these holes when the Qaqnus sings. The 100 different sounds coming out of the beak of this bird can be seen that more than 100 students coming to our circle have different talents. The club had become an integral part of my life. The uniqueness of the environment here, the fact that I got close to my friends was a great light on light.
When I first stepped into the club, when I was just holding a pen in my hand, brother Beknazar gave my first poem to be published in the district newspaper “Gallaorol Ovozi”. As luck would have it, my poem was published a week later, and it was my first achievement. As I continued to create, brother Beknazar said: “Today you are enthusiastic, tomorrow you will be a leader! Don’t get tired of trying!” His words gave me strength. My efforts were not in vain. My first author’s book called “Journey to the Mysterious World” is proof of this. In addition, my creative works were published in many Bayoz books. I participated in various competitions. I do not complain about my achievements. My “Qaqnus” has a big contribution in this, of course! I have been a member of this family for almost 6 years. I am very happy about it. Brother Beknazar always shouted: “This place is a pigeon house! You come once, and when you find your way, you fly away again. Another one will come tomorrow.” It’s true. When I came here, I found my closest friends here, I became brothers and sisters. Our family is very large. I can tell you that this year, God willing, it will be 11 years since the creation of this circle, which includes artists from 7 to 70 years old.
So, there is a lot to say about our family. Therefore, come to our circle, we will definitely be waiting for you.
***
Autumn leaves us badly,
Fall down dear maple trees...
Autumn is hard for us
Began to sell faiths, plows.
The price will be high,
Endless love means.
Last winter was like a famine
I have had enough of patience.
...Oh, it's winter!
The blanket of the village is on fire!
Every ignorant, stupid person dried the pillow.
Be:
"I write!
I don't care!"
I walk one step,
of wide hills
Can I restore your clothes?
In which sun will I dry now,
Dad's waterproof boots.
The eyelashes of pleasant gardens are wet,
Like me, he reads and cries at night.
This is a village, even if it is a patchwork
He had a whole heart!
When the foxes outside tease
Snakes wait in the shelter,
Wow!
Hey!
Thief dogs are fun
My dad's only boot is amazing
Nilufar Ergasheva was born in 2005 in Fergana region. Erkin Vahidov graduated from creative school. Currently, she is a student of the 1st stage of UzMU and the winner of the State Prize named after Zulfiya.
I Never Saw this Coming
When I looked into your eyes, I saw myself in you, like a mirror
I shake my head because my feelings are hard to explain
I never want to live in a world where you aren't beside me
We are like puzzle pieces that only fit together... heart and soul
We stumbled upon each other when our roads crossed
You with a broken heart and me trying to find where I belonged
We connected so easily and I can't imagine life without you
My soul is now attached to yours, and I no longer miss mine
Your heart is now big enough to hold both of us with one beat
I have become like the shadow you see as you walk in the sun
I hope when you look in my eyes, you will now see yourself.
But I must confess, I never saw this coming...
Your Sweetest Dream
I pretend to not see you look my way
I sigh because the love you have for me is so deep.
You take my breath away when you come towards me
My love for you only grows and I can't imagine myself
ever being without you...
"Always take me with you"
I long for you to always drown my life with your love
There is nothing you can give me that is worth more than that
I never fear what is in our future, whether joy or sorrow.
As long as we do it together is all that matters to me...
"Never leave"
I pray you will always love me as your Sweetest Dream...
"Hold me closer" ❤
Where Silence Ends
We stand close together with silence between us
Conversation goes from sweet notes to serious looks
No more do you give into the sadness within you
because tonight you are in the heat of my arms
As I look at you, I can't help but sigh loudly
because I know tonight belongs to just us
I can hear nothing but the whispers of our breaths
Silence is the music that captures this moment
A tear starts to form in the corner of my eye
as a serious smile comes closer to meet my lips
Come, and take a dip in this silent river
where silence ends and sweet music begins...
Glowing Moon of Passion
O' Moon of Passion...
How I long to take in your warm glow
as you fill me with a beam of passion
and spill over onto me your stars of sweetness.
Oh how my senses shudder as I bask in the presence of your orgasmic light.
Kristy Raines is an internationally known poet and prose writer born in Oakland, California, USA.
Kristy is retired and married with two children and three granddaughters.
Kristy has four books getting ready to publish. One anthology with a prominent Poet from India, which will launch sometime in 2024 called, "I Cross my Heart from East to West", two fantasy books of her own called, "Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings" and "Princess and The Lion", an anthology of poems in English, "Little Rose Poetry" and her Autobiography called "My Very Anomalous Life". Kristy has received many literary awards for her unique style of writing.
Kristy enjoys fundraising for her friends who live in the refugee camps of Cox's Bazar and her volunteer work to raise awareness for the Rohingya people.
The Hip-Hop Mermaid
Risen from the warring shore
comes what survives the night’s blear
of human shards scattered
over earth’s sallow brow.
Fate clinging to my barnacled flesh
for the watery bower dawn breaks
over us, she said, snapping her tail.
Somehow she got into the pool
When nobody was looking,
with beaching sepia flotsam
bubbling, what bespoke ineffable
old rose–tinted morning crags
from another clime & century.
While sea worms its way into
My backyard, drenching me
into some searing sex scenes
with this nubile & naked mermaid?
I’ll leave it to your imagination,
For we tell lies beyond reason
in swirling sands of mud frost
turning like dark pudding
as the hungry elements yowl.
I devoured the battered remnants
Of her glistening fins, I plunged
into grief’s plundered port of sin.
I searched for music in her body
in this bed of tangled seaweed
songs do not linger anymore
to tantalize the jazz singer’s lips:
swelling the tide of my dementia
where we are now dissolving
& borne by lingering pathogens
only shallow sea gods are bitten by,
I feed the bloodlust’s swishing vein
Sinking my shipwrecked sullen craft
==========
Spiked Heels of Lunar Light
Does the echo of light fading
still reflect the concrete wave
before a silent sound banishes
candid movements about you
of rainfall smearing streets.
While your red glossy high heels
staccato-tap glistening sidewalks
before mist slithering dawn comes:
a moment’s elocution of elements
finer than your own existence as
a precious filament ignites your eyes
the angels of death dissipate before.
You are the chosen one, Moon Dog
trailing ire over jaundiced time
nearby my gibbous hidden body
your heels excavate heavenly flesh
blood-red under moonlit rays,
& beneath distant overhead clouds
Hot moisture cuts the Velveeta
you spread over perfumed breasts
before imbibing my fallen presence.
Food for dirty thoughts feeding
Old moon-dust beneath your feet,
My yearning cries now echo across
another walkway where footfalls
stop in soundless shadows
beyond black mascara slashes
your sightless eyes redress
in naked night’s cruciform raiment
==========
Eulogy for the Analog of Lost Desire
Only my sex in the ellipsis of your mouth
equals the sum of my disenchantment
reading your scurrilous epiphany at 4 a.m.,
& knowing how fucked it is for you
to post a revealing ad on Craig’s List
in order to write a book later about it;
& all your forays into the lusty disorders,
As weeds dying on the lawn of your desire
devotees of all lost amour aspire to,
hoping to escape banal boundaries
by extolling perversions to greater ends.
You text my acolyte unscathed by hate,
forsaking pristine years of bygone innocence.
Now the cock crows at the death throes
of one’s trendy sex life in empurpled drag.
No pill or superlative drug resurrects
the banished truth of old renegade heats
when there’s nothing left to betray us,
just your once revered cocky-capon god
sucking love’s mitosis of invisible microbes
==========
Symphony with a Severed Head
White light glistens in a vase of shadow
buds suspended by watery phlegm
Of the intoxicated grandpa:
I drink the syrup of palliating Scotch
Listening to domestic disputes outside
a window dust-splotched by faulty sprinklers.
The squatter snoring nearby the tool shed
isn’t exactly a meditating guru for quietus!
No, his curse-ridden dreaming is a diatribe
of bad rap lyrics damning his Jezebel.
(The one with a bustier so silver-spangled
with nipple rings, all very shiny
Under his mental door mat of nightly stupor).
Blue light in a bottle of 100% ambrosia,
forever amber this Thursday evening
Marred by police sirens & screams.
Outside cops investigate the premises,
but I’ll be damned if I’ll go out there
Like a concerned citizen of Twitter
with my cell phone video recording all.
Let the complex go to hell in a handbasket
bulging with the last dead rapper’s head,
Severed & still bleeding-out dumb aqua
until the saints come marching in.
Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where he’s been active in the small press as editor, poet, and artist for years. He has recent poetry in Pulp Poets Press, Literary Yard, Dyst, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Jellyfish Whispers, The Pangolin Review, and elsewhere. His most recent poetry book is Particle Acceleration on Judgement Day from Impspired Press.
***
Imaginations run wild
From the poets
Tears flow from the eyes
From the trembling of the drowsy heart.
Suddenly sleepy souls
Immediately open your eyes
Alisher passed Babur
From the exclamation of figures.
***
This is the sun in the sky
Always is shining
Autumn has come
The wind is howling
The moment you know autumn has arrived
Rushes to school everyone.
The first bell rings
But we avoid the lesson
