Thieves of time

My name is Doniyor. My neighbor Abdullah and I have become close friends. One day we couldn’t find any any way to have fun.  We had no goal.  We didn’t know what to do. When we were making something from a piece of wood, my father suddenly woke up.  His eyes were half open when he said:

“ Hey, thieves of time! Are you wasting your time?”

I didn’t understand the meaning of my father’s “time thieves” at all. I wanted to ask, but he fell asleep.

My friend Abdullah also asked “Are we thieves?” 

When daylight came, he went into his house. I also fell asleep from exhaustion. But I remembered that I was late for school, so I quickly washed my face and drank tea in a hurry. I do not remember what I ate. ..  I thought I would be late for school, but class had not yet begun.  As soon as I arrived, the teacher came in.  We all greeted the teacher with respect

“ My dear students!  I am overjoyed to see you.  My joy is boundless.“

 Just as our teacher was explaining the subject to us, one of my classmates came in and said,”Teacher, I’m sorry I’m late today.” 

“Doniyor, don’t be late anymore., the teacher said.“This time I forgive you, but next time I will punish you.”

“Dear students,” the teacher said, “you must build a new Uzbekistan, and at the same time justify the trust of your parents, ready to give their lives for you. If you become famous, I will be proud to say on the street that I taught this student, “ she said. 

These words of my teacher had a special effect on me and increased my self-confidence. Various whispers began in the classroom. 

“Will you come to my birthday tomorrow?” I heard also those words.  It was clear that our teacher also heard these words. 

“Time thieves,” said the teacher. Her sharp gaze at the students was marked by regret. “Thieves of time”.

I had heard these words from my father while I was playing with my friend.  That’s why I was not surprised to hear them.  My classmates were stunned.

Doniyor, trembled with fear, as if I, his friend Abdullah, ,had committed a crime.

“Doniyor, why are you trembling?”  the teacher asked. 

“You called us thieves, didn’t you? After all, aren’t those who steal punished?“

“Time thieves are punished by time itself. By doing so, you are hurting yourself. “ the teacher said.

“Teacher, I do not understand the meaning of this sentence at all. Please tell us about the theft of time.”

“Usually, those who steal are punished,” said the teacher. “Time thieves are no exception.  True, the thief of time is not punished.  He is not even accountable before the law. But wasting your time now is tantamount to stealing your time, your future. If you spend all your time in science, you will save time and become a mature person in the future. 

Ohh, my friend Abdullah and I are the thieves of our future. Doniyor thought. These words of the teacher inspired Doniyorm andat that moment, he realized what a “time thief” was. 

He even came to our house in a hurry: “Anvar, are you there?  Starting today, I can say that I understand the value of time.

“Yes, Abdullah, you understand, now we are not stealing our time, we are just following the path of knowledge.  In the future, we will be among the mature people mentioned by my teacher.  I agree with you.  Don’t waste your time!  I will always remember that it is a trophy!

Author: Abdumominov Abdulloh

Pupil of school No. 102, Shayhantahur district, Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

Age: 13

Christmas Monologue

Will you come back this Christmas?
When the December sun pulls together through the alley 
the bamboo bank swings and
calls to the wind
swallows call the flock to the
spring ball...

I'm still looking forward to this
Christmas
the day is still long...still a lonely
garden.
The girl from the past is no
longer a baby
Why does the rose flower quickly fade?

My heart will be close to each
other
like flowers and butterflies on a
busy spring day
Christmas is here...why are you
so far away
in the middle of Christmas, my heart suddenly ached

Nguyen Thanh Hai
(Vietnam)

Voyages

It all began on a sea-voyage to Egypt during my teenage,
where I fell in love with the Pharaohs and their ancient heritage,
with the eye of Ra and the ankh which their deities held,
with the pyramids,
that I even contemplated becoming an Egyptologist. 

Next came a flight to Algeria where most people only spoke French. 
My inability to communicate made me appreciate lingual skills,
thus an enhancement of the language brought me translation thrills
of Les Fleurs du Mal and other Baudelairean gems.
 
My own odyssey to Melbourne and Sydney was fraught with hardships.
I thought the status of an immigrant was nigh to that of an explorer like James Cook,
so in the valley of humiliation I learned what it is to be caught 
in the labyrinth of employment agencies and social benefits.

My journey through Caledonia was the most inspiring of all.
I became enamored with kilts, with tartans, with the bagpipe’s call,
with the Sun-Cross that dangled from my left-ear’s lobe,
with the Celtic twilight that permeated my academic work.
 
Middle Age

He dwelt on his receding hair,
the sluggish pace of a healing wound.
He monitored each wrinkle on his face,
camouflaged the fast-greying phase
with a reddish beard
and a trendy, golf headpiece.

We argued about our difference in age
to no avail,
and though my visage had borne no trace
of corrosive time
or the passage of numerous days,
I assured him that my heart was a sage
with the blows of events that do not discriminate
between the infant and the far advanced in years.

I sat and pondered over my ill-chosen mate.
I though maturity would come with the lapse of decades,
but that was not the case,
for our love began to crumble with every physiognomic change,
and from his facial topography of my fate,
I knew the dissolution of our bond was a matter of weeks.
 
Confidantes

My first confidante was a school classmate,
who also resided down our street.
Our golden hours were when we sat beneath
their huge Christmas, pine tree,
and in the glow of tinsel, bells, and crimson beads, 
we poured into each other’s ears
our life-long dreams.
She wanted a glamorous husband. 
I desired something more unique
that would take me somewhere beyond the ordinary.

My second confidante was a fellow flat-mate,
who was nearing completion of a postgraduate degree. 
She intimated her wish to marry her current date
simply because she dreaded becoming an old maid.
I told her the idea had never crossed my mind
although I was her senior by five years.
I was only planning a future career
after the completion of my Ph.D.

My third confidante was my first intimate relationship,
a man whose date of birth preceded mine by two decades.
I confided in him my inability to love again
for monogamy was my inherent trait.
He said seeing other women would not alter his esteem for me.
I disagreed
and left him wallowing in his own creed
of genteel promiscuity.

Web

Extraterrestrial spider,
Invisible;  they say...
Spins a web of deception,
That is growing every day.
Possessing insatiable hunger,
A master of deceit,
Its web a snare for humans,
Who become a prey at its feet.
The web is becoming stronger,
Tightening every day,
And the spider is wiser than humans,
Determined to have its way.

   first published in UFO Gigolo



The Scourge

We all can see that
It is here...
We can run,
Or hide,
Or just choose
Not to see...
We can join,
Or fight,
Or watch...
And understand.
There is no place
To run to,
There is no place
To hide.
What you choose
Not to see
Will find you,
Even if you
Are blind.
And when you face
What you are blind to,
It will not be kind.

Circle

The lesser stars have yielded,
Another Sun is near,
But every star that fled the sky
Will surely reappear.

The darkness nearly ended,
Dawn will bring the light,
The daystar will appear,
Banishing the night.

The part in all
         of us We Share 

             Well Being
       Sets Foot on Every
             Beach on a
       Warm Breezy Day 

       I'm being an Idealist.

 I'll Back down 
               When You're Back up,

      and that's a Condescending 
                   Style   I know.

         You Know Better
  the Greatest Joy 
       than I could    ever find 
                                   for You 

The presence of LOVE 
     is ,   You You You Are  .

       I studder for good 
             Reason 
   It  Bears  Repeating 

Sit Here and I promise 
      not to look at your shell.

    The guarded Soul 
makes its own 
        And your presence has 
my Heart 
              on a Rock slain 
      Before and after the time 
                 of Danger   But no precision 
                                     can threaten my
                                           Eternity 
For size and mass are 
     Part & Parcel to the canvas 
           that, "What's it called?",
              always Rises the caller to 
                   Bring more Fresh Ideas. 

        What You Like 
                  is Already 
                          known
           Faster than time to 
                                 Savor the 
                                       passing Brush. 



By John Edward Culp

         All Rights Reserved 
first drafted on  December 2, 2021
In a Castro Valley CA coffee shop ♡

empty gift


last class before Break
a girl took a scrap 
of thick purple paper
trimmed it square,
folded it to a cube,
let fall a teardrop of glue,
snipped a strip of scarlet ribbon
and tied up the tiny box
with a frilly bow

Merry Christmas  she said

near twenty-years
of its fading on my bookshelf, 
I’ve admired the handiwork –
never tempted to open it
of course
because I watched it made
and know there’s nothing inside



shoelace

                       one end reaches too far from,
the other too near, the eye – a simple fix,
should be – but these shoes were my father’s
and I find he laced them with a trick
no doubt for better holding 
– so I just make one loop too large
          one too small
and rush out the door

slower is faster  he’d say
trying to show what worked
     what lasted
as I pulled away

     till his care couldn’t 
keep me close
and I became a loose end
               out there dangling
tripping up the unwary
and trodden upon in turn



snowman

     there he is again
in late moonlight 
this early morning –
was he there all night?

when he first showed up
     plump and smiling,
overturned basket
     a troubadour’s hat, 
stick arms raised,
    coal eyes glowing –
I didn’t have the heart to tell him
     wrong window,
the ice-princess has moved –
and next night there he was

     I let the joke go months too far:
his youth spent,
he’s sunk in on himself,
     a mere grey heap now,
head a twisted skull,
     hat just hanging,
one eye drifted south,
     face a fixed grimace,
          mouth one long cry,
     arms askew
as if he long forgot 
     what they were reaching for 
– oh, to call back the cold season
          that left him behind



hermit crab



     star by star 
          the moon steps back      
tugging away night’s blanket
     wave by wave
     
     he scuttles safe home
like a seabed bat
     by sunrise	

what does he do all day
     hidden like an answer
in the coiled question
     of his old snailshell –
     sleep and dream?  pray and plan?	
          tend his tender flesh?
while the sun’s giant feet
     tromp the sand
and seagulls wheel and jeer

Four Poems

Written by Chinese Poet Yuan Hongri 
Translated by Yuanbing Zhang

The Sea of The Golden Palace
 
Happiness is the memory of heaven
And the soul is as sweet as the sun.
On the canvas of the death
you daub a smile from the gods.
Oh, that is the light! The light of honey.
If you can hear the heavenly hymns
that is the sea from that golden palace
lapping sapphire over eternal universe.

黄金的宫殿之海
 
快乐是天堂的记忆
而灵魂是甜美的太阳
在死亡的画布之上
你涂抹诸神的笑容
哦  那是光  光之蜜
如果你听见了天国的乐曲
那是黄金的宫殿之海
在蓝宝石的太空之上
2016.7.30

The Wine of The Soul
 
I pick up a smiling flower from the future city
To light up your black iron dreams
The new book of the world delivers by the holy lightning
The giant’s body rotates the transparent picture of the faraway stars-cape
The light emanates from the gods
Let you see yourself without any sorrow
The body is high and translucent, each cells are as sweet as the wine of the souls. 

灵魂之酒
 
我摘取一朵未来之城的笑容之花
照亮你的黑铁之梦
天国的闪电送来新的世界之书
巨人的体内旋转透明的星云之图
那来自诸神的光芒
让你看到那个不知忧愁的自己
身体巨大透明  每一颗细胞甜美如灵魂之酒
2015.3.16

The City of The Angel's Smile
 
The white and silvery words of the moon kingdom
shone in the dream last night
The king of giants
in the massive cities of ancient times
presented me the gem book of the soul
 
I will build a garden in the desert
fill the jade vase with the holy spring
Let the rivers and lakes shine
a city of the angels' smile

天使的微笑之城 
 
月亮之国的银白词语
在昨夜的梦境闪烁
那位巨人的王
在史前的巨城
赠我宝石的灵魂之书
 
我将在沙漠上建造花园
用一只玉瓶盛来天国之甘泉
让河流和湖泊映照
一座天使的微笑之城
 2016.5.7

The Interstellar Kingdom
 
Sometimes I see the sky smiling at me
The limpidity spirit and flower clouds
such as the old soul of mine
watch my shadow on the earth
 
The ground beneath my feet like a colossal ship
toward the Interstellar Kingdom
Those cities where giants dwell
blossom on the dustless Milky Way.

Bio:Yuan Hongri (born 1962) is a renowned Chinese mystic, poet, and philosopher. His work has been published in the UK, USA, India, New Zealand, Canada, and Nigeria; his poems have appeared in Poet’s Espresso Review, Orbis, Tipton Poetry Journal, Harbinger Asylum, The Stray Branch, Pinyon Review, Taj Mahal Review, Madswirl, Shot Glass Journal, Amethyst Review, The Poetry Village, and other e-zines, anthologies, and journals. His best known works are Platinum City and Golden Giant. His works explore themes of prehistoric and future civilization.

Yuanbing Zhang (b. 1974), is Mr. Yuan Hongri’s assistant and translator. He himself is a Chinese poet and translator, and works in a Middle School, Yanzhou District, Jining City, Shandong Province China. He can be contacted through his email, 3112362909@qq.com.