Whispers from the Heart 

I wish to touch—just once—

your words, 

your melodies,

and all that is miraculous.

I wish to listen—just once—

with my whole consciousness,

to the heartbeat of every single letter 

you utter. 

And if you have no objection,

I wish to lift upon my fingertip

that single drop of the universe

lingering upon your lips. 

Then, if you choose to erase 

my blooming world,

I will vanish without a trace—

like the sunshine of the night… 

Those Who Depart 

Those who depart— 

do they truly dissolve into darkness, 

becoming utterly devoid of light?

Those who depart never return, 

yet they leave behind their pen, 

resting beside the throes of death.

Tucked away in the hem of a tattered 

sheet, they conceal all the strange 

wonders of their lives.

They move a little further ahead, 

even though there remains nothing left 

to look back upon.

Those who depart—in some other world, 

they fill the naked, blank 

expanse of white paper… 

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

ARC DE TRI-UMP
He wants to build a monument, so time
will not erase his clout– acclaim will last.
Napoleon’s great arch, built centuries past,
draws tourists still. His polls will surely climb
if he constructs a shrine that shouts his name
and carves in stone his face, his wealth, his deeds.
Hotels are not enough. A landmark speeds
prestige, and guarantees ongoing fame.
Who needs another vintage obelisk?
One shape sums up his powerful impact:
a novel icon– it just might redact
fake news of war crimes, loss, and nuclear risk.
His war affects the whole world’s oil supply.
Proposed: a golden gas pump, built sky-high!

Copyright 4/2026 Patricia Doyne

The Power of Books: How Reading Shapes Our Minds

Books are more than just words on pages—they open doors to new worlds, ideas, and experiences. From the moment we learn to read, books begin to shape our minds, expand our imagination, and help us understand the world. Every story teaches us something about people, cultures, and emotions. Reading encourages curiosity, empathy, and broader thinking.

Books also develop creativity and critical thinking. While reading, we imagine scenes, interpret meanings, and connect ideas. Reading also improves vocabulary and helps us express thoughts clearly. In today’s fast-paced information age, books provide a space for deep thinking and reflection that short messages or headlines cannot replace.

Reading affects not only personal growth but also society. Readers tend to be open-minded, empathetic, and more understanding of other cultures. Knowledge gained from books helps individuals contribute more thoughtfully to their communities.

In conclusion, reading enriches our minds, hearts, and lives. It opens doors to knowledge, nurtures empathy, and strengthens creativity and critical thinking. Books are not just a form of entertainment—they are a powerful force shaping personal and social development.

My name is Nozimova Shukrona, and I was born on January 31, 2011, in Oltiariq district of the Fergana region. Currently, I am a 9th-grade student at the Fergana branch of the specialized school named after Muhammad al-Khwarizmi.

Despite my young age, I have a strong interest in science and creativity. Since my early school years, I have actively participated in various academic competitions. For example, in grades 5–7, I took part in the Hippo English Olympiad and the Kangaroo Mathematics competition, where I had the opportunity to test and improve my knowledge.

In 8th grade, while studying at Specialized School No. 4 in Oltiariq, I was also a member of the “Zakovat” intellectual team, and together with my team, we achieved 4th place in the district competition. During the same year, I ranked among the top 10 in the district stage of the Al-Khwarizmi Olympiad. I have also taken part in many subject Olympiads and achieved high results.

Currently, I am participating in the provincial stage of the History Olympiad, where I continue to demonstrate my knowledge and abilities. In addition, I am a member of my school’s “Zakovat” intellectual team, and we are competing at the provincial level. Recently, I achieved a B+ level in the National Certificate exam in Uzbek Language and Literature. I am also interested in sports. When I was younger, I practiced gymnastics and won several competitions.

I actively participate in different initiatives and projects, where I not only show my eagerness to learn but also develop my leadership skills. I have clear goals for the future, and my dreams are high.

The Application of Artificial Intelligence and Digital Technologies in Education and Society

Nurmatova Charosxon Pirnazar qizi

Annotation:

This article attempts to conduct a fundamental analysis of how artificial intelligence (AI) and digital ecosystems—one of the greatest technological and ontological turning points of human civilization—are reshaping the global architecture of society. The paper scientifically substantiates the inefficiency of traditional educational paradigms and the emergence of adaptive algorithmic systems that expand human cognitive abilities.

The central idea of the research is to interpret AI not merely as a technical tool, but as a “catalyst” that enhances the intellectual potential of society. The findings present innovative strategies for personalizing the educational process, eliminating the digital divide, and adapting to transformations in the labor market. In the context of technological determinism, the concept of a “Humanistic Digital Society” is proposed, which prioritizes the human factor and digital ethics.

Main Part:

Today, the educational process has moved from the stage of “information transmission” to the stage of an “intellectual ecosystem.” Artificial intelligence (AI) here functions not only as a tool but also as a personalized learning companion.

Digital technologies enable a transition from vertical (hierarchical) governance systems to horizontal (network-based) structures in society. Society is now measured not by geographical boundaries, but by “data flows.” In modern governance, digital models of cities, transport systems, and even social groups are being created.

With the help of AI, optimizing resources (energy, water, logistics) not only increases economic efficiency but also systematically eliminates corruption and subjectivism associated with human factors. According to research, by 2030, AI will perform up to 85% of tasks such as data entry, standard calculations, and basic diagnostics. This leaves humans responsible mainly for empathy, creativity, negotiation (soft skills), and ethical judgment.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, artificial intelligence and digital technologies are not merely the next innovation, but a new chapter in the intellectual evolution of human civilization. This study shows that transformation in the education system is not just about replacing textbooks with tablets—it is about creating a “personal intellectual environment” that elevates each individual’s potential to an unlimited level and expands their cognitive abilities.

Nurmatova Charosxon, Uzbekistan 

Meadows Peace 

In the meadow peace and sunlight glows

A quiet hush between what comes and grows, 

The soft grass sways in a calm release 

All the day feels wrapped in a peaceful peace, 

A gentle wind begins to stay

Whispering summers secrets through the sway,

Each petal glistens, calm and free

Moved by the cool breeze in harmony,

No hurried step, birds singing natures sound,

Stillness settling all around 

Where hearts can rest and thoughts cease,

Then life becomes a meadow’s peace.

Small Girl Big Devil

As quiet as I was 

your silence devoured me

I was spit into bits 

fed to pigeons

given a lollipop for this cross 

and left on someone’s door

who didn’t like children

so I became a woman

overnight 

in a back alley 

and you looked at your work 

said thy will be done

and fell into deep slumber 

as I crawled away in shame 

Monsters are made 

not born 

there’s still a monster under my bed 

I hear it deep within the empty night 

when dreams play tricks 

and lovers stop 

loving 

The morning so futile 

where I attempt to redeem 

us 

under the blood sun that rises 

over the arch of our terrace 

that hasn’t been used in decades 

and never will 

Since the city has climaxed 

we are spent within her

Alive 

but dead with guilt 

and old with fear 

Yet 

we sit together

numbly silent 

as a tomb

In Poison We Began

Your breath a siphon

of everything me

those late nights 

we plodded through our deadlands 

as vacant as the wind 

your lips a poison 

never matched 

(and we choose our poisons delicately)

Some burst of cosmic gases

from an unnamed planet 

as it flew apart 

fused us 

there isn’t a fiber 

between our skin 

our poison combined 

threaten

all the surroundings 

When I slink out 

from our skin 

I witness us

white and wrinkled 

posed as humans 

we glow toxic blue

in the moonlight 

We fold back

into each other’s poison

scrimmage until the moon

dies 

because we can’t ever 

leave pure things alone 

Sweet Darlings

There was something off

in my mother 

I’m sure I realized this at a young age

We salt our own wounds

to go back and revisit in some nostalgic way 

never does any good 

There’s a heroic bend to events 

we escaped from 

or got out of unscathed 

but it is bent and strange 

hope can be quiet rage in youth…..in the meek 

There are outliers for reasons 

back then I skirted darkness 

it was so natural 

to turn into those monsters 

the same ones I was born to

and some of us morph 

to become a hybrid 

pulling some old dark legacy 

along with a new creeping addiction

I don’t have to call up the dead

to ensure I’m awake nights 

I’ve been awake for decades 

fearing some floating stigma 

that will get me 

at some future point 

If there’s something off in me

the root goes deep 

my road went dark aways ago

I cry forward 

Kitty

The wind ever so lightly rustles the trees

there’s an egg in the blue jay’s nest

Kitty lights a Newport

blows that mint smoke straight into

the fresh morning air

we sit

sludgy and bent

ogle the simple shit

as if life never existed before

the blue egg

before martyrdom

Christ

dinosaurs

it’s all new today

cuz we heeled she says

Kitty coughs

deep and chunky

phlegm flows

over her lips

she wipes her mouth with a tissue

her potbelly ever so round

tits sag down 

while gravity sucks at her nipples

I light a Marlboro

nothin left to fear

that ain’t already spooked us

the egg

divine and speckly

imperfect

yet so pure

can’t take my eyes off it

almost the color 

of a Tiffany giftbox

Kitty grunts

asks who Tiffany is

I just want the egg to open at its time

without a hungry predator lurking

I want that baby blue jay for my own

some dormant motherhood beam

creeks in my dead womb

as if to ask

what happened to the many eggs

I’ve scrambled at the predator’s foaming jowls

A singular cry from the momma blue jay

the mother’s moan 

dates back to Mary

some invisible clock

that stops a heart

when necessary

as written in the Torah 

and we’ll come to it

Hole (For M.M.)

Your Frankenstein chariot

pieced together

from many dead Harleys

The rides to the beach

salt air sprayed us

from both sides of the bridge

and it was a freedom so epic

it engulfed us

Glittered eyelids

black leather

lust like dogs

hunger eats like a hole

we ain’t filling in this life

The bike on the boardwalk

us

staring into a future

we were unable to feed

sucking at the pure moment 

of innocence and death

too naive to know the difference

Boardwalk now is cracked

ripped and busted up

from the many storms 

I walk it alone from time to time

hungry to get to the point

That tipping point

when you and I meet 

as ghosts