Thanks, 2023!
The year is coming to an end. At the end of each year, the old year is summarized. New plans and dreams are set for the new year. It is a very enjoyable work for me too.
Today, when I look at the past year, I saw a lot of good and bad events. They are all gone and it is impossible to change them. But it is possible to draw the right conclusions from the mistakes of the past year and welcome the new year with strength from the successes.
For the past year, I have tried to achieve my goals as much as I can. Of course, the result is not bad. At the beginning of 2023, my personal book was published in America and was put on sale in 26 countries of the world. It inspired me to create even more. I stepped into the international world. Many of my creative works have been published in international newspapers and magazines. At the same time, I was recognized by the international newspaper "The Daily Global Nation" as an ambassador of international peace. I participated in the II International Congress "Youth Tourism", which left me with beautiful memories and great impressions. I was in the youth circle, in the conversation of my peers.
I actively participated in international conferences and projects.
With my article, I won the 2nd place in the competition of traditional creative works of the Republic of Uzbekistan, "Protect Wealth from Childhood", announced by the favorite newspaper of children and teenagers in Uzbekistan, "Tong Yuzi".
I am happy to say that I spent the year with beautiful memories, kind words, wonderful books and good people. I tried to sweeten myself, my dreams and words, to live happily. So many times I felt infinite gratitude with all my heart. I loved God! There were so many beautiful messages that I cried. I took a risk and trusted him, and it turned out to be good.
But there were many difficulties, problems and worries. I wanted to laugh it all off! I chose long roads and sleepless nights. Because it's all for my future! But I am always grateful to my parents who always supported me in such difficult times. They inspired, gave the best of motivation.
I am very happy now that I am summarizing my two years. I intend to fulfill my intentions next year.
Dear friends, I wish you endless happiness, joy and success in the New Year! Love yourself! Live every moment! If you stay at night work, be fascinated by the beauty of the moon and stars. And don't forget to give thanks for the sun every day!
Shahnoza Ochildiyeva
Uzbekistan❤️
My dearest,
Why be sad on New Year?
Why shed a precious tear?
The end of past is so near
Beginnings can't you hear?
Life may be unfair as it is so
Tonight, let every pain just go
Struggle, disillusion you know
To hopelessness don't kowtow
Tonight, a new cloth to weave
Do not add reasons to grieve
New dream for heart to receive
Just let it go, hope to perceive
Life is beautiful, you must fight
Hold on to your courage tight
Don't underestimate spirit's might
Look forward to Future so bright.
True Gift
A gift is a basket of laughter
Where all good times gather
A gift is a big bowl of smile
Memories more than a mile
A gift is thick bouquet of sigh
Romances flying way up high
A gift is warm blanket of fear
Where rare peace I hold dear
A gift is crystal glass of doubt
Confused as what is life about
A gift is a teacup full of tears
Pains and griefs no one hears
A gift is able to feel the free air
Love anger hope and despair
A gift is chance to live and strive
Despite all continue to thrive
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.
Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for truth in pursuit of equality and proper stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.
We continue to express sorrow over what’s happening in so many different parts of the world and encourage our readers to support people and the planet.
Also, we are hosting our Metamorphosis gathering again! This is a chance for people to share music, art, and writing and to dialogue across different generations (hence the name, the concept of ideas morphing and changing over the years). So far photographer Rebecca Kelly and English/Spanish bilingual poet Bridgett Rex are part of the lineup and more are welcome! This event is also a benefit for the grassroots Afghan women-led group RAWA, which is currently supporting educational and income generation and literacy projects in Afghanistan as well as assisting earthquake survivors. (We don’t charge or process the cash, you are free to donate online on your own and then attend!)
This will be Sunday, December 31st, 2-4 pm in the fellowship hall of Davis Lutheran Church at 317 East 8th Street in Davis, California. It’s a nonreligious event open to all, the church has graciously allowed us to use the meeting room.
This month’s issue concerns our positions within time and space, sometimes pulling us deeper within our own psyches and intimate relationships and at other times drawing us outward into a broader universe, or simply destabilizing our normal perspectives. Join us as we venture Within and Without.
Niles Reddick’s dramatic pieces highlight the danger and mystery hidden within everyday life. Bill Tope’s piece illuminates the fluidity and risks of young people’s lives and travels during the American 1960s.
Helena Jiang explores how our mental states color our perceptions by taking us outside on a bicycle ride through the eyes of a grieving boy and out on a sailing ship through the eyes of an artist.
Sheila Henry illustrates the visceral experience of depression to encourage empathy for those who endure mental health struggles. Alma Ryan dramatizes anticipatory grief for the loss of a person who cares, but cannot truly understand her.
Thoreau famously claimed that many men live lives of quiet desperation. Returning poet J.J. Campbell must surely be among them, as his speakers seek to dull their souls as their hopes drift away.
Ari Nystrom-Rice illustrates the journey of a person facing intractable damnation.
Filip Zubatov tells us to stop lying to ourselves and set goals and take action and make the most of our lives. Jerry Langdon comments on the brevity of life with solar mythology as a metaphor and reminds us to tell our loved ones we care while we are still here.
Taylor Dibbert reflects on how many people only seek marital counseling when it’s too late. Kristy Raines looks back on romantic love and on life’s ups and downs from a mature perspective.
Abdurazokova Murad urges parents to set down their phones and pay attention to the growth and education of their children and also reminds us to make the most of the limited lives ahead of us. Bakhora Bakhtiyorova speaks to wise, balanced parenting while at the same time encouraging all people, especially young people, to seize the day and achieve their goals.
Sabrina Ishmurotova’s poignant poem illustrates a young girl’s longing for her lost father. Mokhinur Askarova speculates on who would miss her if she disappeared. Faleeha Hassan’s speaker remembers a complicated relationship with her mother, where love commingled with grief.
Boqijonova Madinabonu reflects on the love of family and how mothers are often the glue that holds families together, even after children grow up and move out.
Annie Johnson evokes love that is both spiritual and interpersonal in her poetry, which celebrates the light and joy of Christmas.
A. Iwasa reviews the second issue of Signal, A Journal of International Political Graphics and Culture and concludes that the magazine holds wisdom from a variety of political and philosophical traditions.
Hauwa Jibrin cries out in anguish at war and brokenness in his country while Santiago Burdon expresses his support for the Palestinian people to find peace and self-determination. Aklima Ankhi celebrates the independence of her homeland of Bangladesh and shares her hope for peace in the world and freedom for all its people. Mahbub joins her in rejoicing in his home nation’s birthday, taking pride in his country’s founding as a victorious struggle of formerly oppressed people.
Daniel De Culla reminds us that the shiny veneer of the holiday season is not enough to cover over systemic injustice and brutalities, including religious leaders’ sweeping child sexual abuse under the rug.
Noah Berlatsky calls out the financially exploitative nature of practices within the writing world and the struggle of many for just a chance to be seen.
John Mellender’s poem speculates on the true nature of courage, what gives us the strength, or foolhardiness, to throw our bodies against the iron bars of life’s injustices.
Mesfakus Salahin’s tale concerns a clever boy determined to keep honest and preserve his self-respect. Sayani Mukherjee speaks to remaining near the light of truth, even if you are alone with a small candle.
Stephen Nwankwo expresses his determined hope for the future of his country.
Bill Tope’s second story highlights the struggles of many young women to be believed and understood after sexual assault. Set during a time just a few decades in America’s past, the story shows an otherwise loving and caring mother who wants to empower her daughter, yet has her generational blind spots.
Isabel Gomes de Diego’s photography of children sightseeing in the city is tinged with wonder and joy, encouraging all of us to glimpse the world through fresh eyes.
Daniel De Culla’s images highlights juxtapositions, disparities and conjunctions within environments both natural and human-built.
Phil Demise Smith’s graphic novel chronicles and halts the movement of time and how it organizes chaos into a series of moments, the present.
Brian Michael Barbeito’s poems capture lush natural and seasonal environments: the sea, fields in spring and trees in autumn, in language both atmospheric and philosophical. In a similar, but more personified and romanticized, vein, Sreya Sarkar renders snowflakes into ballerinas that distract the sky and a lost thoroughfare.
Brian Michael Barbeito’s artwork aims to capture the spirits of places, both extreme closeups and panoramic vistas that incorporate nature and human construction and pose the question of how exactly we define “place.”
Don Bormon conveys the endurance and sturdiness of trees, both physically and ecologically as the backbone of so many ecosystems.
Texas Fontanella’s visual art connects a dizzying expansive explosion of angle and shape and color.
Z.I. Mahmud outlines ways in which the technical craft of cinematography affects the visual impact of storytelling in movies. Steven Mayoff probes the similarities and differences between writing prose and song lyrics.
J.D. Nelson brings more of his signature ‘graf’ poetry, with one liners stringing together images and sounds like a garland.
Grant Guy’s visual poetry melds Morse code, squiggles and graphics, absurdist humor, and oddly placed inspirational messages. Mark Young’s work juxtaposes varying units of sense into pieces that, oddly, flow together.
We hope the same is true of this issue, and we wish you a very happy holiday season.
If I head away.
Maybe then my worth is known,
If I leave a mark on your heart.
My parents miss me,
They have been waiting for me for years.
Looking at the streets where my childhood was left
You know my worth again.
You can't find me,
Your dreams are telling the truth-
You look for my laughter, though,
You can't find them either, my friend!
You ask the moon where I am
He is ashamed of not being able to answer.
I repeat again, my dear ones,
You will never find me
Mokhinur Askarova daughter of Bakhadir was born on May 13, 2006 year in Jizzakh city.In 2013 year she went to the 14 th school in Jizzakh city. She is also a member of about 20 international.organizations and the owner of more than 50 international certificates. a graduate of the special course of the world famous"Oxford University's Home study center"course, published the first poetry collection "World" announced.America's "Amazon"his poems were published in "Raven Cage"magazines of Germany,he was invited 3 times as a guest of"Assalom Jizzakh"show.
Kelly was mowing their front yard when the snake landed on her arm. She figured it was from a tree, and it tightened its grip on her arm like a boa constrictor and lunged at her face hitting her glasses and cracking them. She ran right over her rose bush, the lawn mower spitting red petals and thorns, and she screamed “Help me, Jesus” twice, shaking her outstretched arm. Her disabled husband heard her and moved down the ramp of the carport with his cane as quickly as he could, hearing Kelly holler for Jesus.
Jesus didn’t come swooping down from heaven to save her, but the hungry hawk that had picked up the snake in a field of peas about a half mile down the road and then lost its grip and dropped it onto Kelly circled back and nose-dived toward her arm, its claws slicing her arm while grabbing hold of the snake. As Bud made his way to the yard, he waved his cane and hollered, “Get!” several times.
When the hawk had a firm enough grip, it took off with the snake writhing in the sky, and Bud got Kelly to the emergency room where she was treated for lacerations and bruising. The doctor told Kelly that the right glass in her eyeglasses was cracked and kept the snake’s venomous bite from her eye even though her readers had to be trashed.
Ghost of Lincoln
We never thought we’d see a ghost through binoculars in the White House from our view on E street by the South Lawn. We’d hiked from our hotel early in the evening with a light fog settling over the city. Along with our binoculars, we had a 35-millimeter camera with zoom lens, so we could get any close ups of the Obamas, but my friend Grant said, “Damn. That looks like Abraham Lincoln standing by the window.”
“Let me see,” I said. “By God, you’re right. Get some pics. He’s wearing a dark suit and a top hat.” He took the camera, focused, and snapped about twenty shots.
“I hope I caught him. He didn’t move and then evaporated.”
“We might even be on one of those reality TV shows if his image is on the film once it develops.”
“That would be cool.”
“Yes, it would.”
The Lincoln room was just a couple of windows to the right of the rotunda on the second floor. I’d looked at it online, since I knew those areas were off limits on our tour the next day. Lincoln may have been the most iconic of all the ghosts seen in the White House. He’d been seen by first ladies Grace Coolidge, Lady Bird Johnson, and Jacqueline Kennedy. He’d also been seen by Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, both of whom had been guests in the Lincoln bedroom. First lady Eleanor Roosevelt also reported feeling Lincoln’s presence as she worked in her office in the Lincoln bedroom, and President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s valet once ran screaming from the White House after seeing Lincoln’s ghost. Even the Ronald Reagan family had some experience with Lincoln’s ghost. The Reagan’s dog Rex stood at Lincoln’s door and barked and barked, and Reagan’s daughter Maureen and her husband had reported ghostly images when they stayed in the Lincoln room.
“Why would he haunt that area? It wasn’t his bedroom. It was his office and his Cabinet room at the time.”
“I’m not sure. I think Laura Bush redid the room, but the rosewood bed was purchased by Mrs. Lincoln along with some of the furniture. It was where Lincoln first read the Emancipation Proclamation to his Cabinet, and there’s a copy framed and hung on one of the walls. Of course, Lincoln himself had ghostly experiences there when he was President. He reported hearing the ghost of former President Jackson swearing and stomping around.”
“That’s wild and wasn’t there something about a child?”
“Yes, the Lincoln’s son Willie died at twelve from Typhoid Fever and had been seen by some staff of President Grant. Maybe he’s looking for his son or maybe he’s just thinking about the massive loss of life in the Civil War.”
“Most places aren’t nearly as haunted.”
“Why do you think that is? Age?”
“No, I think it’s because of the stress and the energy expended. Lincoln’s term had to be one of the most stressful. I’m sure all presidential terms have their own anguish, but his must have been incredibly difficult.”
“Yes, I think so.”
When they returned home to Illinois, the two friends had a great ghost story to share, and of all the photos snapped, one of them showed a grainy image of what might be perceived as Lincoln.
“Looks like that picture of Jesus someone saw on a slice of bread.” We both laughed.
“Or the Virgin Mary in a cloud.” We laughed more.
“Or what about that potato ship shaped like Elvis?” We laughed less because the joke was already getting old, and we both saw our reality show appearance evaporate just like the ghost of Lincoln.
“Yeah, they call seeing images that aren’t there pareidolia. Maybe we didn’t see Lincoln at all.”
“Maybe.”
Niles Reddick is author of a novel, three collections, and a novella. His work has been featured in over thirty collections and anthologies and five hundred magazines and journals including The Saturday Evening Post, PIF, New Reader, Forth, Citron Review, Right Hand Pointing, Nunum, and Vestal Review. He is a five time Pushcart, a two time Best Micro nominee, and a two time Best of the Net nominee. His newest flash collection If Not for You has recently been released by Big Table Publishing.
From southwestern Michigan, Jerry Langdon has lived in Germany since the early 90’s. He is an Artist and Poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled “Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil”, “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various rock bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.
Ishmurotova Sabrina Sarvar qizi
A little girl who missed her daddy
She is a child, but there is no childhood,
There are no exuberances, no masculinity.
Her heart hurts so much
A little girl who missed her dad .
Seeing her mother secretly crying
Her heart troubles again.
She can't tell anyone about her suffering
A little girl who missed her dad.
Hugging her dad's pictures
"I miss you dad", - she says.
A girl who didn't see mercy from Father
Why does she miss him so much?
A little girl of six-year-old
Listening to her longings, you say: "Ohhh!"
O, people, tell me what is going on
Listening to it, you will be feeble.
There are so many tiny hearts in the world
I don't know, how many at the moment.
But, a girl who missed her daddy
Don't cry from longing anymore
One day, you will be very happy
