I'm the happiest in the world
I'm the happiest in the world,
Also I have everything.
I'm the richest in the world,
Life is interesting.
I have a lot of friends,
All of them kind to me.
And I've family members.
We make the best family.
If I study in Ibrat school,
I will be a good person.
I'll service my motherland,
I will get much education.
I'm the happiest in the world,
Also I have everything.
I'm the richest in the world,
Life is interesting.
Shaxzoda Abdullayeva was born on February 8, 2008, in Namangan. She is currently a student at the Is’hoqxon Ibrat Creative School. She speaks Russian, English, and Korean. Her creative works have been published in numerous international newspapers and journals.
BITTERNESS
People are buzzing around. I can neither find a place to park, nor drive my car. I came here looking for someone to clean the small garden in our yard for Sunday. Everyone is coming from all over and asking for work. They were all in old and worn-out clothes. Among them, a student wearing a white shirt caught my attention.
I immediately asked:
- You can do some tough stuff, can't you?
- Yes, I can.
- Then get in the car.
As we were driving, the silence was broken by a phone call. He took his phone out of his pocket and answered. It was his father who made the phone call. It was so loud that I could hear the whole conversation. Dad immediately asked:
- Where are you, son?
-Making my way to the extra lesson.
-Hope you are not hungry?
- Nah, had lunch in the cafe in front of our school. Mom is all right, isn't she?
- Don't worry, she's okay.
- Okay, Dad, I'm late for the class. I sent you money. They gave me a prize for doing exceptionally well.
- Proud of you son. Keep up the good work.
The young man turned off his phone and sighed deeply. I wanted to ask him something, but I couldn't speak as if something was stuck in my throat. If I spoke now, it seemed that he would strangle me and make me cry. We arrived home. As soon as we entered, my children ran to me and I hugged them, and the painted ivy seemed to loosen a little. Then I explained what he had to do. Then I told my wife to prepare food and went out.
I was driving a car, but I couldn't feel my hands, I wanted to scream and cry. I parked my car in the shade of a tree. I immediately got down and walked along the stream. I could hear the water flowing, the chirping of birds, and the soft swaying of trees. As for me, I involuntarily step into the past.
Fifteen years ago, I was the same age and situation as today's student. I was farming with my father in the village. We used to go to the field early in the morning and when it got late we would drag our feet back from there. Every day was spent helping my father. Since my brothers were young, they could not help my father. One day I was returning from the field when a very beautiful blue "Volga" drove past me and stopped at the roadside. A tall, slightly plump man, dressed in a slouch, got out of the car.
"Zakir, how are you?" he asked me.
That's when I found out that he was my schoolmate Shakir. He went to study in Tashkent after we finished school last year.
- Thank you, I'm fine, how about you, are you studying?
- Yes, I came to the village on vacation. What are you busy with?
- I am helping my father in the garden.
- Old chap, I have a suggestion for you. Come with me to Tashkent to study, you are skillful enough, you need to develop it, though. How long are you going to live in the village covered in dust?!
I was hesitant, not knowing what to say. "I must talk to my dad?" I said.
- Well, tell me your answer till tomorrow! - He got into his car and stepped on the gas.
I thought about it until I got home. When I came home, my mother was busy with my brothers, and my father was tired and had fallen asleep without eating. Unknowingly, I went to the mirror, looked at my reflection and immediately compared it with Shakir in my mind. It was as if some kind of volcano erupted from my heart. Why should I walk in this condition? Can't I be like Shakir? Can't I drive cool cars like him?
As I was asking myself these questions, I felt a strong urge to go to my father and wake him up. I told him about my wish. Dad was a little surprised at what I was saying, and then he said:
- My son, strive towards your goals, I will support you in any situation, but do not forget this, do not return to the village until you find your way!
Dad gave me a prayer and I came to Tashkent the next day with Shakir. I was left in various situations, without money, and food. But I couldn't request anything from my family, just like today's young student. I pulled a cart in the market and served in people's houses.
Sometimes I was so tired of all the worries that I wanted to end everything and go home. But every time these thoughts crossed my mind, I heard my dad's wise and majestic voice: "Don't return home until you've truly found your way!" I remembered what they said and found the strength to try again. My life was passing like this. If you live your life striving towards a goal, time will pass so quickly, like the rapid flow of rebellious waves of a river.
Years later, after graduating from university with honours and getting a master's degree recommendation from my teachers, I was returning home when I heard that my father had died of a heart attack. When I came home, there was the sound of crying, and my mother had no strength left, she was barely standing on her feet.
They were happy to see me, we talked for a while, and then I asked why they didn't let me know about my father's illness. Dad did not allow us to do so, they said, "My son is studying, he should not be distracted." That's when my motivation increased, and I realized that if before I only worked for myself, now I have to work for my brothers, for my mother, and my perished father. Sooner or later I did not stop and reached the current situation.
Now I am happy, every moment of my life is full of joy. But I want one thing. If my dad was alive and asked me how I was doing, I would have said I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm doing very well. We would have taken a stroll in my car, filled every moment with joy and happiness. There is moisture on my cheeks, sometimes I cry, and sometimes my pains that have been buried inside me for years come to the surface. I felt some relief in my heart. A soft wind hits my face and eyes, and it seems to touch my heart, which has been deprived of air for years.
The phone rang.
- Hello, I hear.
-Daddy, come home, this guy has finished his work.
- Now, I'm leaving.
I got back into my car, headed to a life of worry and fatherlessness...
Abdamutova Shahinabonu was born on October 6, 2007. Currently, she is in 11th grade at Is'hakhan Ibrat creativity school. She can freely speak in English, Russian, and Korean. Her stories were published in many foreign journals.
bookish coppery elvis natural settee
—
militant salmon scythe wolven martian
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controlled surf italia seatingly
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aloof goodgreen spider crystalline middlebox
—
J. D. Nelson is the author of eleven print chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including *purgatorio* (wlovolw, 2024). His first full-length collection is *in ghostly onehead* (Post-Asemic Press, 2022). Visit his website, MadVerse.com, for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Boulder, Colorado, USA.
Treading Water
Winded, throat burning,
I’m feeling the taunt
of the finish line
How many
things in aging body
and my life need fixing—
how many relationships
are set akilter
Whimsically,
try sometimes forgetting
the balance,
shut the laptop,
listen to the rain
on the window
On a quiet afternoon,
when my face
studies yours,
what psychedelic radiance
glows within irises?
On the night of a party,
I wonder who will
flick off the room’s lights
and watch the night-shadows
when we leave.
Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Most recently, she has contributed poetry to The Dawntreader, Meat for Tea, The Opiate, orange juice, The Stray Branch, The Nature of Things (Lone Mountain Literary Society), and more journals.
abstract world
are we running
out of paint
conversation corner . . .
where we sit to check
our phones
trapping mix of flavors
in the casserole
heat dome
back then
how little we knew
about anything
she tells me hubby
won't be joining her for dinner
widow
angle broom
yet my corners
unswept
toasting
her campaign contributions
party atmosphere
tubes
to the outside world
incubator
whispers of shadows
they tell me everything
about you
casting
his vote with confidence
fisherman
Roberta Beach Jacobson (she/her) is drawn to the magic of words–poetry, song lyrics, flash fiction, puzzles, and stand-up comedy. Her latest book is Demitasse Fiction: One-Minute Reads for Busy People (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). She lives in Iowa with her husband and three cats.
Thoughts I Sing Are His Soul
Variable faiths adopted and practiced by each race loiter,
Between the sunrise and sunset, are witnessed by our life-
Churches, mosques, and temples are monstrously built,
To worship the Almighty to protect us from any strife!
The spirit of good reign thrives in stellar space,
But the terror of desert softly questions not why-
And my poetic eyes wander or bathe in copper sunrays,
As a child of the morning star under the Autumn sky!
I have leaned freely on the God’s shoulder, as my pillow,
And sung His glory over happy or sad days and nights-
It taught me nothing but the madness of life in dessert,
And there’s neither God nor evil, in darkness or lights!
I never heard it or learnt in any other decisive way,
But it may be the superstition in my Bedouin soul-
And the race issues of the world burn my thoughts,
To make me feel like a horrible living flaming coal!
At times, I dare neither to lose nor to fear,
About a situation that may suddenly appear-
But in others, my Gypsy-broods seem to tell,
I should feel neither a shame nor a cheer!
So, in a paradoxical manner of my freedom banner,
I surely confess: Thoughts that I sing are His soul-
And my solo ride of life on the global ocean of love
Will dilapidate me with horses’ neigh, or rock-n-roll!!
“Milestone”
July 5, 2024
Hillol Ray, D.Litt., Ph.D. (Doctor of Humanity), D.Phil. (Theology), Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Phil. (Nigeria), D.Litt. (Morocco), Poet Laureate, Author, Translator, is an Environmental Engineer with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in Dallas, Texas. He is listed in Who’s Who in Asian-Americans, Marquis Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in Science and Engineering, and Who’s Who in the World. His books “Wings of Time”, “Metamorphic Portrait” (Amazon. Com) -recently released.
Web Links:
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry/e https://bwesner.wixsite.com/awards-2016-to-2030
