Poetry from Rich Murphy

Field Goals

Each generation resurrects 

“kicking down” from Hierarchy Heights.

The brainstem budges the boulder

from the cave mouth: “Says Me.”

Out the windows kindness

heads for the valleys at each birth.

Punching up lacks in distinction

and swings at boots without knuckles

blackening an eye, bloodying a nose.

Evolution, the great master teacher,

gets into the egg and sperm classroom first.

Lifetime courage courses require

that no self show up for short bursts,

live-round, experience training.

Only charity and cowards give up a hoot.

Citizens measure against debt,

bank accounts, and stock portfolios

to decide whether to can-can

or goose step to the market.

White Washers

White washers scrub at history 

books until “Indians” and slaves

vanish with erasers that bristle.

The back hairs on any reader

without memory don’t stand on end.

Tainting paint with Klan hands,

eyedroppers dispense from schools

the color knowledge needed 

for blindness in day-to-day life.

Palettes dilute into dumb palates.

Masked street sweepers dust up

into unmarked cars and warehouse

immigrants until jets return, while

forklifting denial into news outlets

contradicting pedestrian cameras.

At the liberty library for the right

descendants, the empty reading 

room speaks without a murmur:

Vacant, any volume doesn’t mutter, 

doesn’t echo, doesn’t matter. 

Handkerchief Waves

What remains in the international 

intelligence pool that tooled a nation 

and world drains through a sieve

to home countries sweeping

hometown brain trusts elsewhere also.

Bye-bye free thought exceptionalism.

The seepage around universities

muddies so that second and third

class studies pass for good reasoning

while wearing out erasers and patching

over with makeshift information.

A first generation suffers from a setback

in understanding other peoples

while losing footholds in knowing

a planet and the atmosphere.

Each culture returns to a scapegoat

including at the meeting place

where local boredom whets tongues

prepping for action from the herd.

After the global sharing strategy

for living in one solar system

what remains calculates poorly

as though thrashing in a maelstrom.

Rich Murphy’s latest collections, Elephant by Bass Clef Books, Storage Shed and Inside Stories by Resource Publications and Mind of Europe: A Genealogy to The Fat Man and Susan Constant by Cyberwit were published 2024-2025, following First Aid and Footholds (2023). Asylum Seeker (2018) was published by Press Americana. His poetry won The Poetry Prize at Press Americana twice for Americana (2013), The Left Behind (2021), and Gival Press Poetry Prize for Voyeur (2008). His first book was The Apple in the Monkey Tree by Codhill Press (2007).

Essay from Maxmasharifova Shodiyabegim

Maxmasharifova Shodiyabegim

A prospective specialist acquiring knowledge in Economics and Pedagogy

The Motif of Fear in Abdulla Qahhor’s Short Story “Daxshat”:

The Clash Between Psychology and Social Environment

Abstract

This article analyzes the short story “Daxshat” by the prominent Uzbek writer Abdulla Qahhor. In the work, the motif of fear is not presented merely as a narrative element, but as a manifestation of the violation of individual social rights and profound psychological suffering. The story is examined from the perspective of modern psychology, particularly through the theory of fear developed by Sigmund Freud. The literary-critical views of Ozod Sharafiddinov and Matyoqub Qo‘shjonov are also discussed in a scholarly and publicistic manner.

Keywords: Abdulla Qahhor, “Daxshat”, Unsin, motif of fear, social oppression, realism, cemetery.

Abdulla Qahhor entered Uzbek literature like “a ray of light.” Each of his short stories represents a small world; however, carrying the weight of this world requires considerable emotional and intellectual readiness from the reader. Despite their concise form, Qahhor’s stories possess deep psychological intensity.

As literary scholar Ozod Sharafiddinov noted:

“Qahhor turns his gaze to such layers of the human soul where the boundary between fear and courage, baseness and nobility, is thinner than a strand of hair.”

The image of Unsin in Abdulla Qahhor’s short story “Daxshat” exists precisely on this fragile psychological boundary. Analyzing Unsin’s inner experiences through the lens of modern psychology—specifically Sigmund Freud’s theory of fear—helps reveal the core essence of the work. Freud classified fear into three types: real fear, neurotic fear, and moral fear. In Unsin’s character, all three forms tragically collide.

Real Fear and the External Environment

According to Freud, real fear arises from a tangible danger in the external world. For Unsin, the nighttime cemetery, wild animals, or corpses represent real sources of danger. However, Qahhor’s artistic mastery lies in using real fear merely as a background element rather than the central focus. When Unsin enters the cemetery, his mind sends a signal to “escape,” yet social pressure and coercion shackle his movements and suppress this instinct.

Moral Fear and the Superego

Moral fear emerges from a person’s sense of responsibility toward their conscience and the moral norms imposed by society. Freud explains this phenomenon through the concept of the Superego. Unsin fears not the horror of the cemetery as much as Dodkho’s wrath and the violation of his honor and dignity. His tragedy lies in the fact that the Superego—social obligation—defeats his instinct for survival. Although he fears death, he trembles even more at the prospect of living in forced submission with Dodkho.

Neurotic Fear

The most critical moment in the story occurs when Unsin’s foot sinks into the mud and he imagines that he has stepped on a corpse. This episode is a classic example of neurotic fear as defined by Freud. Here, the threat does not originate from the external world but from the individual’s internal imagination. Under extreme emotional tension and panic, rational thinking collapses. Unsin’s unconscious fears are awakened, and reality is interpreted in a horrifying manner. As a result, the human psyche cannot withstand such pressure.

Regarding this scene, Ozod Sharafiddinov states:

“Unsin’s death is not merely a cardiac arrest, but the collapse of a human imagination that crashes into the terrifying wall it has created itself.”

Literary scholar Matyoqub Qo‘shjonov writes:

“It was not the cemetery that killed Unsin, but the remnants of outdated traditions that enslaved his will and the violation of human dignity that led him to this state.”

Conclusion

The motif of fear in Abdulla Qahhor’s “Daxshat” serves as a symbolic representation of a society in which personal freedom is suppressed. Through Unsin’s tragic death, the author exposes the ugly reality of his era and highlights the individual’s psychological loneliness. The story demonstrates that fear is not solely generated by external threats, but is intensified by inner powerlessness and social oppression.

In my view, for contemporary readers, this story stands as a profound moral lesson emphasizing the importance of protecting human dignity and liberating individuals from the shackles of fear and ignorance.

References

Qahhor, A. Selected Works. Tashkent: G‘afur G‘ulom Publishing House, 2010.

Sharafiddinov, O. The Difficult Path of Creativity. Tashkent: Literature and Art, 1980.

Qo‘shjonov, M. The Mastery of Abdulla Qahhor. Tashkent: Fan, 1988.

Freud, S. Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis. (translated edition)

Poetry from To’khtaboyeva Nilufar No’monjon qizi

Victory 

There are many choices, many, many

Don’t sit still, choose one 

Go for victory, striving

Start now, before it’s too late 

We, the descendants of Amir Temur

Let’s take a step without fear 

Let’s not give way to rivals Let’s be honest people 

We are children of an independent country 

Our president created the opportunity 

If you bring victory 

Our people are also happy every moment 

We won! Victory! Victory! 

May the voice of “We won!” come with blessings 

If we achieve victory 

May victories be blessed

To’khtaboyeva Nilufar No’monjon qizi, 1st year student, Faculty of Philology, Journalism Department, Namangan State University

Photography from Jacques Fleury

Photos c/o Jacques Fleury

Young adult Black man with short shaved hair, a big smile, and a suit and purple tie.
Jacques Fleury

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Spirit of Change Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–

Silhouetted figure leaping off into the unknown with hand and leg raised. Bushes and tree in the foreground, mountains ahead. Book is green and yellow with black text and title.
Jacques Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey Towards Understanding Your Authentic Self

Essay from Yulduz Niyazova

Renewal and Kindness Celebration

Navruz is one of the most ancient holidays in human history. It symbolizes the arrival of spring, the awakening of nature, and the beginning of a new life. This holiday is celebrated every year on March 21, during the spring equinox. On this day, day and night become equal, and nature enters a period of renewal. The word “Navruz” comes from the Persian language and means “new day.”

According to historical sources, Navruz has a history of at least 3000 years. Its roots go back to the ancient Zoroastrian era. In the ancient book Avesta, there are also references to ceremonies connected with the arrival of spring and the awakening of nature. Initially, this holiday was celebrated as the beginning of the agricultural year, and people held various rituals wishing for a rich and fruitful harvest.

Today, Navruz is celebrated not only in Central Asia but also in many countries around the world. In 2010, the United Nations General Assembly declared March 21 as the “International Day of Navruz.” In addition, in 2009, Navruz was included in the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity list.

In Uzbekistan, Navruz is considered an important holiday reflecting national values and traditions. During these days, public festivals, national games, and concerts are organized, and traditional foods such as sumalak are prepared. Navruz unites people in the spirit of kindness, friendship, and solidarity.

Navruz is not only a spring holiday but also an ancient cultural tradition that expresses the ideas of peace, renewal, and goodness. For centuries, it has united different nations and continues to remain an important spiritual value for humanity today.

Poetry from Qo’narova Yulduz

REGRET

Why do you test me so much in these trials,

Your dark nights crush me every moment.

Why do you make me suffer this way,

Tell me, will my bright days ever come?

My fate is written in the verses of my life,

I do not know what else you have written there.

While I was walking embraced by dreams,

You handed me a mirage and called it happiness.

Was the life I was meant to see in your world only sorrow?

At your feet my tears were shed without mercy.

Were the pains you gave me still not enough,

Look — my back has bent from misfortune.

Though grief pulled at my hair through the years,

I endured it with courage and left it behind.

Whatever passed over my head until this day,

I lived with patience and hope.

But now for those whose hearts have burned,

When will the torment and pain disappear?

With every frost that falls upon my brows,

I do not know how long my patience will last.

Every time wandering through the city of my heart,

Did you hear my regrets, O God?

Did you cast me mercilessly into these flames,

Or did you love me this much, O God?

Or did you love me this much, O God?

Uzbekistan