Love without tears
I have built a house on the desert sands
My chest is filled with lamentation,
Love without tears is a dream of broken happiness.
The firefly bird in the darkness
Is flying in search of light,
The fire of treachery burns gunpowder
My heart is burning.
Seeing the glow in the blue sky
A bird awake at night,
Waiting for it to come,
I live daily looking for the way.
The artist is painting a picture in the folds of her red saree,
That lost magic
Is calling me closer
The Aral Sea Crisis: A Major Environmental Disaster in Central Asia
The Aral Sea is one of the most tragic environmental disasters in modern history and a powerful example of how large-scale human intervention in nature can lead to long-term ecological, economic, and social consequences. Once the fourth-largest inland lake in the world, it was located in Central Asia between northern Uzbekistan and southern Kazakhstan. During the second half of the twentieth century, the sea began to shrink dramatically due to Soviet irrigation projects that diverted the main rivers feeding it, the Amu Darya and Syr Darya, for cotton and agricultural production. Over time, this massive water body lost most of its volume, transforming into a desert-like landscape known today as the Aralkum Desert.
The reduction of water inflow caused the salinity of the lake to rise sharply, making it impossible for most fish species to survive. As a result, the once-thriving fishing industry collapsed completely. Thousands of people who depended on fishing for their livelihoods lost their jobs, and entire coastal communities were economically devastated. Ports that were once active became stranded far from the shoreline, leaving behind abandoned ships in the middle of dry land, which now serve as silent reminders of a prosperous past.
As the water level continued to decrease, the exposed seabed released large amounts of salt, dust, and toxic chemicals into the atmosphere. These pollutants were accumulated over decades of agricultural runoff containing pesticides and fertilizers. Strong winds carry these particles over long distances, affecting air quality and causing serious health problems in surrounding regions. Respiratory diseases, throat infections, anemia, and other health issues have become more common among the local population, particularly in areas close to the former shoreline.
Climate conditions in the region also changed significantly. The presence of the large water body once helped regulate the local climate by reducing temperature extremes. However, after its shrinkage, summers became hotter and drier, while winters became colder and harsher. This shift negatively affected agriculture, biodiversity, and the overall living conditions of people in the surrounding areas. Soil salinity increased as well, making it more difficult to grow crops and reducing agricultural productivity.
The ecological consequences extended beyond the immediate area. Wetlands and ecosystems that depended on the Aral Sea gradually disappeared, leading to the loss of numerous plant and animal species. Migratory bird populations that once used the region as a resting point also declined. The disappearance of biodiversity has had long-lasting effects on the ecological balance of the entire region.
Social impacts have been equally severe. Communities that once relied on fishing and water-based trade were forced to adapt to new and often difficult economic conditions. Many people migrated to other regions in search of employment opportunities, leading to demographic changes and the decline of some settlements. Poverty levels increased in affected areas, and access to clean drinking water became a serious challenge in certain locations.
Despite the scale of the disaster, various restoration and mitigation efforts have been undertaken. One of the most successful examples is the construction of the Kok-Aral Dam in Kazakhstan, which helped partially restore the Northern Aral Sea by improving water retention and reducing salinity levels in that part of the basin. As a result, fish populations began to recover in the northern section, and local fishing activities were revived to some extent. However, the southern part of the Aral Sea, mainly located in Uzbekistan, continues to face severe environmental degradation.
In Uzbekistan, efforts have been made to address the consequences of the disaster through afforestation projects on the dry seabed. Planting drought-resistant vegetation such as saxaul has helped reduce dust storms and stabilize the soil. International organizations, including the United Nations and the World Bank, have also supported projects aimed at improving water management, environmental protection, and sustainable agriculture in the region.
The Aral Sea disaster is often studied as a global lesson in environmental management and sustainable development. It demonstrates the importance of balancing economic goals with ecological responsibility. Large irrigation schemes that prioritize short-term agricultural output without considering long-term environmental impact can lead to irreversible damage. The case also highlights the need for regional cooperation, as water resources often cross national borders and require joint management.
Today, the former seabed continues to expand as a desert, but it also serves as a symbol of both loss and awareness. Scientists, policymakers, and environmentalists use the Aral Sea example to educate future generations about the consequences of unsustainable resource use. It remains a reminder that human actions can reshape entire landscapes and that careful planning is essential to protect natural ecosystems.
In recent years, global attention to the Aral Sea has increased, especially in discussions about climate change and water scarcity. Central Asia faces growing pressure on its water resources due to population growth, agricultural demand, and changing climate patterns. The lessons learned from the Aral Sea are therefore highly relevant not only to the region but to the entire world.
Although full restoration of the original Aral Sea is considered impossible, partial recovery efforts and environmental rehabilitation projects show that improvement is still achievable in certain areas. The revival of fish populations in the northern section and the reduction of dust storms in afforested zones demonstrate that human intervention can also play a positive role when guided by sustainability principles.
Ultimately, the story of the Aral Sea is not only about environmental destruction but also about human responsibility, resilience, and the possibility of learning from past mistakes. It stands as one of the most important environmental case studies of the modern era, reminding humanity that natural resources must be managed with care, foresight, and respect for ecological balance.
Xoʻjyozova Dildora, Uzbekistan
I Walk, I Sing Poetry
Mesfakus Salahin
Bangladesh
The ocean whispers to me –
I must go to her
She is mine
I will surrender my helplessness to her
I will seek my selfhood in the vastness
I will compose the poetry of life in the salt water.
The mountain calls me, with a sigh
Undoutly, I will go to it
His sorrow is my sorrow
I will lose myself in its depths
I will pour water on its bloody heart
I will deposit my melted love there.
The tree calls me in illusion-
I will go to it
I will hide afternoon in the illusion of its shadow
I will play until the sun sets
The ignorant mind will be greener
The moment of poetry will relax in the leaves of the branches.
The sky calls me with a wink
I will go to it
I will hide my tears in the raft of clouds
I will decorate causal story with rainbow
The river of desire will hang on the stairs of heaven
The stories will be the dawn of poetry.
People call me to make fun of me-
I will not go near them
All the lanterns are in the shell of people
I will not bind dreams in a new net every day
People who eat mind run away
I walk, I sing poetry.
If you call me
I will become you
The ocean will be your saree
The mountain will be your home
The tree will be your time
The sky will be your vacation
You will be the fountain of my poetry
And I wii be a holiday in the lap of poetry.
How Wonderful The Gift Of Life Seems
Can you speak or write in the absolute now, or is the now gone in the time it takes for the now to hit your senses and wind its way up our nerves into our brains and then for us to speak or write it on a page?
Can we overlook the micro-moments between perception and recording on the brain or on paper?
In this near to now my dog licks his black paw stretched out on the bed. The light streams in a side window into this darkened room onto this notebook page and a dove outside calls. Those nearly nows are receding as my pen moves on the page trying to pin them down.
The dove still calls. The air filter hums almost silently in this allergy season.
Now there’s the sound of a page turning as I write more in the nearly now. It is close to quiet in this nearly now. A top drawer in this old brown wooden desk is half open. There is a humming in my ears. I have a taste of tinnitus.
Here the nearly now is mostly still. Some might call it boring. So busy am I in recording that my thoughts are rare. My body feels a little tired. My sad bad knees are both aching. Should I be sorry this nearly now is not more dramatic?
Put down your cell phones, kids, and enjoy the silence. Learn to muse and think on your own. No bombs are falling outside but I know they are falling elsewhere. I hear the quite whir of a plane overheard. Rain is falling, a slow rain outside that my dog and I don’t hear, or maybe Coco dog hears.
It’s been peaceful to settle into this nearly now. I am content, and now I am thinking in this nearly now, of a thought I had yesterday.
Is that cheating?
Is that thought as much of the now as the tinnitus in my ears? You may disagree if you are here with me in the nearly now at a later date.
Yesterday’s thought is about the story of life’s beginning. I learned in school that life began with the mixing of chemicals in a warm body of water. The constant stirring in currents of the chemicals finally led to life. Perhaps it was a virus kind of life since a virus sits on the edge of life and nonlife.
But what if life bloomed in more than one place, here on this planet or elsewhere? What if life had multiple origins? Maybe there are aliens out there and distant planets we cannot travel to in multiple lifetimes. I am thinking of this in the nearly now. Any memory pulled from the past as thought is now in the nearly now.
And when I am thinking in the nearly now, am I not also thinking a bit in the future in a yearning for the future?
I’m thinking I may publish this rambling on the nearly now in the future. It is the possibility of sharing my thoughts with others that leads me to write them down. Nearly now thoughts of the future are pulling me forward.
So perhaps no divides exist between the past, the nearly now, and the future. Time, as the old metaphor said, is a flowing river and cannot be divided.
My hope is that some souls in the future will read this and the ideas will live again rolling through their nearly nows, and I will kind of live again.
It has stopped raining. My spouse is starting to move about, getting ready to check on the backyard garden. I give my love a quick kiss as she heads out the back door. I may feel differently tomorrow—what with the terrible calls coming out of the wider world—but how wonderful the gift of life seems in this nearly now.
The Legend of Loquat Island
1. You Bring All of Yourself
When the sun has fully turned to summer,
you are still there,
among the indistinct clouds.
You do not come,
do not step on any of the seven strings,
rhythmically stepping out of the unclear clouds.
Nor do I go.
The stop sign is yellow, hidden by pagoda blossoms;
I fear I might lose my way.
The wind runs along the shadows of flowers till noon,
and noon shatters in the sound of the qin.
Flowers are like eyes, gazing at fruits from afar.
Leaves and sails turn brown gradually —
summer is growing old.
For loneliness is a game of Go,
played by the left hand against the right.
In a throat murmur, I paint rust over your name,
walk near the fence, bend with the grapevines and peer.
It is already summer, so much summer.
Soon the flowers will put on yellow jackets.
The last bus always writes ugly novels,
yet cannot write your warm name.
You are my summer.
When you come, summer stays.
Let maple leaves burn themselves out.
As long as you bring all of yourself.
2. Perhaps I Do Not Love You
Perhaps I should not speak this obscure sentence.
Your drizzle is about to damp my swaying steps again.
Your story moves me,
moves the vast seasonal moods in my heart.
A liquid landscape rises on our cheeks, a curved theme.
Your eyelashes, scattered with chinaberry flowers,
take me as your future.
Yet from your small figure, I revisit my past.
In this summer with a mischievous sun,
innocent fruits stir the noise of old days.
It is only that we are too gentle, like water,
fond of waiting and remembering.
All from one moment’s attention
grew into the whole secret of my life.
I love you — the shadow of my childhood in you.
Please love me too — your promised autumn in me.
Let us be two mirrored Z’s,
lyrical on either side of a single sentence.
3. Duet
We walk into a night without a title,
into a bumpy alley.
The moon, a yellowish raven,
holds the burning road behind us.
One easily grows emotional in the dark.
You say it’s nothing — we’re poets,
so I am no longer shy.
I take your hand and walk past the lamps of misunderstanding.
Alley connects to street; the alley is a solo.
We are a bumpy duet,
perhaps all duets are like this.
We laugh secretly, and our laughter turns to flowers on branches.
We cannot turn back; the moon still lingers,
we have lingered too.
That year we both lost love, both looked pale.
It is fate, you say, pressing your lips
and holding me tighter.
I only lift my head and whistle a clumsy tune.
The alley leads to the long street.
We count the stop signs one by one and do not stop.
In every tree shadow, two pairs of eyes catch each other.
The duet behind us spreads into a clear mixed forest.
You imitate my whistle,
then scare yourself away.
On the main street,
we give away our bumpy heartbeats
to all the lingering figures of Pisces.
4. Loquat Island
Loquat Island lies where God does not reach.
Invitations are rejected,
stamps are rejected.
Even the temperamental typhoon
cannot land on Loquat Island.
Loquats on Loquat Island never ripen.
Summer flowers only bloom for crowded music.
All numbers from one to seven love lyricism.
Loquat Island, Loquat Island, far out at sea.
Tender green coconuts are lifted by tides to keep balance.
Drift bottles carry distant questions.
We pass through the typhoon.
We land gently, on each other’s coastal lips.
Since we came, the moon has hidden in the bird’s nest in the tree,
the sun has lost its way in our eyes,
and drizzle always murmurs softly.
Since we came, loquats no longer turn sour.
We occupy the date of waves and rocks,
the date of moon and sun.
We link our hands into a rainbow and claim sovereignty.
With a wave of the sleeve,
we snap the rope of the canoe,
wave away the one-way wind and rain.
Let us stay on Loquat Island —
be two loquat trees growing ten leaves each,
standing in a season where even stones can bloom.
Loquat Island, Loquat Island, abundant in love.
Let us pretend to be mountain spirits,
cloaked in litchi leaves, greedy and playful.
If one day the sea is stuffed full of loquats we shake down,
will you invite the lovelorn typhoon
to come to our Loquat Island
and taste authentic loquat love?
May 24, 1985
Father’s light
Father, your warmth is like the sun so bright,
Every word you speak guides me through the night.
When I grow weary, your voice gives me might,
In my heart, you are a beacon of light.
Your soul is vast, like the shoreless sea,
Through you, I found faith and the strength to be.
No hardship can ever discourage me,
For with you by my side, I stand strong and free.
Hardworking, honest, and kind in your way,
None can replace you, come what may.
Your smile is my joy, the light of my day,
May your life be a throne where golden rays play.
With you, our home is filled with grace,
Peace and happiness in every space.
Stay healthy and near us, in love’s embrace,
May joy follow every step you trace.
Gulsanam Mamasiddiqova was born on July 22, 2007, in the Oltiariq district of the Fergana region, Uzbekistan. A 2025 graduate of School No. 25 in Oltiariq, she is currently a first-year student at Andijan State University, majoring in Philology and Language Teaching (English). Gulsanam is passionate about literature and linguistics, seeking to bridge cultures through her creative writing and poetic voice.
Corsica
France valued you at a price, and Genoa prospered from your sale.
Your isle of beauty took France’s lustful glances, as Genoa for gain, sold her costly Cabochon.
Your beautiful bay and dramatic cliffs caused so much contention for your dowry.
Palombaggia’s white sands are lovers’ basking points, where dreams and many fantasies come to fruition.
Rocky coves, diverse plains and mountainous interiors attract every romantic adventurer seeking your atmospheric and fragrant scrubland.
You are the pearl between Italy and France!
The very beautiful bride between, guarded jealously by France’s over-protective all seeing eye.
Bonaparte first inhaled you at infancy!
On Saint Helena’s very distant bland shores, he nostalgically christened you his childhood paradise.
In his depths of longing, he craved and craved for your fragrant earth, like one who craved for his departed Josephine!
Joseph C Ogbonna is a widely published poet, former high school teacher and an amateur historian. Some of his many works have been published in Spillwords Press, North of Oxford, Waxpoetry Magazine, Borderless magazine, Micromance magazine, PoetryXhunger and in at least two dozen anthologies. He is also an Amazon International best selling co-author.