Poetry from Rahmiddinova Mushtariy

Young Central Asian teen girl with a dark braid of hair and a white top with silver sparkles.

I thank you              

                Father!

(My father is devoted to Rahmiddin!)

Father, your words are bright and kind, 

Your words of wisdom are mysterious and magical,

Your teacher is different-minded,

Thank you, father!

We learned love from you,

We learned knowledge and enlightenment from you.

We learned manners and consequences from you.

Thank you, Father!

He watched us walk the streets,

He corrected our mistake without delay,

The reason is that he gave his gifts,

Thank you, Father!

Rahmiddinova Mushtariy Ravshan’s daughter was born on March 1, 2011 in Gulistan district of Syrdarya region. Now she is a student of the 8th grade. Mushtariy is interested in reading poetry, reading books and drawing. She appeared on television in kindergarten at the age of 3 and is still appearing on television. Participated in the Bilimdon competition. She took the 2nd place in English in the 2nd grade. Participates in many contests and projects. In the future, she will become a dentist. She is preparing for admission. Her dream is to make everyone proud of Mushtariy. She also participated in many anthologies and webinars.

Essay from Aymatova Aziza

Libraries are very important in the life of all people. Libraries play a significant role in the live of all people who strive for knowledge. We can find all kinds of books in the libraries: novels, biographies, fictions, short stories, books for children and so on. In some libraries you can also get access to their electronic resources or the Internet. Libraries can be found in many places. Schools, universities and organizations often have one. Today there are libraries in nearly every city, town and village. The assortment of books in our school library is very diverse. There are many short stories and novels, reference books and textbooks, dictionaries and encyclopedias there.


Aymatova Aziza was born on February 24, 2009 in Almalyk, Tashkent region. She is a 9th grader. Until now, she has written dozens of poems. Hobbies include reading and drawing. Currently studying English and Turkish. Having studied languages in the Ibrat Academy application, she received English and Russian language course certificates and participated in many online tests and contests.

Essay from Nurullayeva Mashhura

Central Asian teen girl with dark straight black hair, brown eyes, and a black and white sweater.

Mother…

       In the cold days of winter, in the heat of summer, even in the rain and hail, an old mother sat staring at the tree that had started to rot on the old bench in front of Uncle Toshpolat’s shop.

Day after day, I pass by this corridor and ask her how she is doing. I liked how the very old mother smiled with kind eyes.

Then I thought that if they sit in this position all day, if they don’t have children, when they are old, if they don’t stand in front of them, they would sit the same way in the cold and in the heat.

I always tried to talk to them, but I didn’t have time because I was busy with work. Days passed. One day, when I was hurrying, I saw them again, unfortunately, they were unconscious. I quickly took her to the hospital. After 2-3 days of treatment in the hospital, they started talking to me. They laughed when I asked why you didn’t talk all this time.

 “My child, why did you save me? I have no right to live in this life. I don’t want to live,” they said.

“Don’t say that, Auntie. You will live a long time,” I said.

They said, “Would you come out of the hospital and take me to my place?” I shook my head.

 The next day we went together, they sat down and started talking. 

“Hey, my daughter, we mothers are giving up ourselves as children, but they don’t call us,” they cried. “Since I was young, I did less than anyone else, I fed without eating, I wore without wearing, it’s not thanks at all, but I didn’t think that my work would be so lowly appreciated,” they said. 

 “Look, my dear, this tree was beautiful and strong 5-6 years ago. Year after year, this tree was not paid attention to, even water was not poured under it. In time, it dried up and became firewood. Unfortunately, the same is true of mankind. It’s been a long time since my only son, who didn’t take me to heaven, kicked me out of the house until my death.” – he said, his eyes were sparkling with coral tears. “Auntie, go, I’ll take you with me,” I said. When Asta shook her head: “No, my child, I will sit here and wait for my death,” Yuring said.

 I was afraid, emergency help came, but her aunt was dead.

The true meaning of the incident that taught me throughout my life, 15 years later, when I came to this village to rest with my grandchildren, the same mother and her son were sitting at the same table, wearing old clothes, leaning on the same rotten tree. Sorry….it’s too late now

The truth I realized is that if you carry your mother on your head, your child will also carry you on his head. Do you despise them? Your children will despise you in time. Don’t forget that this world will give you back. Appreciate everything in time.

Nurullayeva Mashhura was born on December 12, 2006 in Sariosia district of Surkhandarya region. In the same year, she graduated from the 11th grade of the 3rd general education school in Sariosia district. During his school days, she took pride of place in many science Olympiads and competitions. The owner of several international certificates, her stories and poems have been published in international newspapers and magazines. There are many goals in the future.

Poetry from Mashhura Ahmadjonova

Central Asian young woman with long dark hair and a headdress and a white blouse with black dots and a black ribbon tie. She's in front of a building with others in the background.

SUMMARY 

Time flies without looking back

Rushing like a man without passion 

Without combing his loose hair

He runs too fast

Taking a day of childhood 

I don’t know where it went?

Put it in a bag called life

Goes along the beach

I called again and again, but 

He didn’t even turn around. 

A big problem in the heart, 

He quickly got on a horse and ran away

Light’s eyes grew dim

Night fell in my hut

It didn’t leave my body

A time when my heart was crushed

From this day I learned the value of time,

Eyes wide open today, 

I used even the night

The knot that bound it was not resolved.

The end is invisible

Time is still running out

Mashhura Ahmadjonova was born on October 25, 1999 in Uychi district of Namangan region. The winner of the 2nd place in the regional stage of the “Most Active Reader” Republican competition. Member of the Indian organization “All India Council for Technical Skill Development”, the Argentinean organization “Juntos pol las letras”

Poetry from Yolgosheva Sevinch

Young Central Asian woman with wispy dark hair in a bun, earrings, a white collared blouse and a black vest with lace.

A plea 

 Beloved like my mother

 God gave you to me

 I live as your child

 My life is devoted to you, my country.

 Let me lean on you, my wing

 I will say it will not pass

 I am sorry for the ingratitude

 I give my life to you, my country 

 Don’t be offended by me

 If you are sad, I will be the one

 Do not be humiliated in the hands of Yav

 I give my life to you, my country

 My sister, brother, don’t shed tears

 I will never leave you

 May the sun not leave your head

 My life is devoted to you, my country.

 Running to your service

 Be the only one for you

 Pulling out my heart

 Homeland, I give my life to you.

 I will finish it before I die

 Yozai senchun epic shout

 My eyes are a charm for you

 My life is devoted to you, my country.

 The throne of other countries is not needed

 It’s okay if I’m in your arms

 A heart that does not love you is heartless 

 My life is devoted to you, my country.

Yolgoshova Sevinch, Bukhara Region, Kogon District, Barkamol Avlod Children’s School, member of the “Yosh Kalamkashlar” club, 9th grade student of the 17th school in the district, “I bow to those who know you”, 1st place winner of the regional stage.

Poetry from Komron Mirza

Central Asian teen boy with short brown hair and a white collared shirt.

I say the end of time…

Although they are young, they are in their eighties

Old people have a poor wallet

Don’t get up in the morning prayer

I don’t think it’s the end of time

Mother of orphaned children

Let them throw it aside

It’s worth it like a commodity

I don’t think it’s the end of time

If you see it, you will be amazed

They hurt your heart

Markets that sell honesty

I don’t think it’s the end of time

A cemetery after an inauspicious year

One Qur’an in one unreadable year

We have no faith left

I don’t think it’s the end of time

It’s time until dawn

Rest until noon

Even the night passes in sleep

I don’t think it’s the end of time

Beamal is a genius scientist

The mistake of Kufr-u Shirk

His fatwa is a lie

I don’t think it’s the end of time

Adultery became commonplace

Buildings of faith collapsed

Chests like eyes were opened

I don’t think it’s the end of time

Women are not hot for men

I can’t help but think about prostitution

A handkerchief wrapped in condolence

I don’t think it’s the end of time

People build palaces

If they walk without Peshwa, they are murids

Ignorant people laugh at us

I don’t think it’s the end of time

What is the dream of everyone

The cure in the kingdom is the singer

So “Navoi” is in the room

I don’t think it’s the end of time

You are complaining, O Mirza

It’s not good manners

Don’t take the punishment in Mahshar

I don’t think it’s the end of time

Komron Mirza was born on March 30, 2001 in Sherabad district of Surkhandarya region. At the moment, he is a student of Applied Psychology, Faculty of Social Sciences, TerMU, Termiz city, Surkhandarya region. He is a creative and future master of his profession.

Poetry from Maxliyo Axmatova

     The sun 

Light shines in the sky
Makes the word happy.
People are happy
When the sun rises in the morning.

Crops keep alive,
People are centuries old 
When the cloud comes down.
When the sun rises in the morning.

It lights up the word,
Governs the whole body 
Rooster is thick.
When the sun rises in the morning 


Maftuna Rustamova.
Bukhara region 
Jondor district 
Ravot village.
30 school
8-"a" class.