Wheelchair

"Afia! My dear, why are you sitting in the dark room? Ayesha said while turning on the light in the room. "I love being in the dark, Mama!" Because this darkness hides my disability in itself.” Aafia said while turning her wheelchair towards Mama. 

Mama, why am I like this? Why can't I run like other kids? I also want to play hide and seek like Raima, Ayeza, and Ahmar, ride a bicycle, play badminton like them. Aafia started crying about her disability while mentioning her brother and sisters. Ayesha quickly moved forward and hugged Aafia. Ayesha herself was saddened.

Twelve-year-old Aafia was the eldest daughter of Shahbaz and Ayesha. Aafia's parents were very happy when she was born. Allah Ta'ala blessed them with the happiness of children after five years of marriage. On Aafia's birth, sweets were distributed throughout the neighborhood. Aafia was the star of everyone's eyes in Dadhyal and Nanhyal. She used to walk around the house. When Aafia was two years old, she fell victim to the polio virus, due to which Aafia was destined to be disabled for life. Undoubtedly, it was a great test for Shahbaz and Ayesha. With the passage of time, Shahbaz and Ayesha had accepted the bitter reality that their beloved daughter Aafia could not walk again for the rest of her life, but Aafia was still unable to accept this fact. Aafia's uncle, who was a school teacher, started taking Aafia to school with her. In the beginning, Aafia was very excited to go to school, but gradually she started shying away from going to school. Now she used to try to skip school on some pretext.

"My dear daughter! If you don't go to school, how will you get an education? Ayesha said hugging Aafia. 

"Mama!" 

All the kids in school look at me strangely. Sometimes they make fun of me. Sometimes they copy me. No one wants to be friends with me because I can't run like them," Aafia said while crying. 

"Hey! My daughter is very brave. Brave people face their circumstances bravely, they don't cry. The day you stop considering yourself disabled, people will also stop considering you disabled, and then every human being is tested by Allah Ta'ala. Allah Ta'ala wants to see whether His servant fulfills the test given by Him or not. Ignore the visible flaws and look for the hidden qualities within you. Then one day everyone's tongue will not mention your disability but your virtues," Aisha explained to her daughter.

Aafia also understood this very well. She had accepted the fact that this "wheelchair" was now a part of Aafia's life. Now Aafia not only started going to school regularly but also started participating in various academic and literary programs. He no longer cared about people's attitudes. Aafia had learned to be happy and contented. Day and night she started thanking Allah Almighty that Allah Almighty had blessed her with the ability to think and understand. He had given wisdom and consciousness. Aafia's painting won the first position in the International Painting competitions, and Aafia got a lot of recognition in the domestic and foreign media. Now everyone wanted to meet Aafia. Wanted to talk to him. Undoubtedly, the words of Aafia's mother had been proven true that one day there will be a day when people's tongues will mention Aafia's performance.

Arti-Blog Title: *Medway International School* #MIS  – *5th Anniversary* & *1st Major Graduation*.

Program / Event Date: 10th December,2022. 

Time / Durarion: 10AM To 3PM 

*Program Outline Or Order Of Program As Follow*:   

MC: *Ike Boat* 

Opening Prayer: Reverend *Prince Ampaapeng* Of *Fire Of Favour Chapel International* #FCI 

Purpose Of Gathering #POG : Proprietoress Madam *Araba Baidoo* #HeadMistress 

*School Boys And Girls Performances As Follows*:

* English & French Recitals By The Pre-School.

* Song Ministration By The School Choir.

* 12 Days Of Christmas

* Dance Craft By The Nursery 2 Pupils

* 16 Regions Of Ghana

* Ballet Gig By The Graduants

* Melodrama Dubbed *Birth Of Christ* 

* Drama By The Basic 2 Pupils

* Cultural Dance, Ethnic Related Coupled With Local Dresses Put On The Pupils.

* Choreography By The Pupils.

* Modelling By The Pupils.

* Presentation Of Certificates – By The Head-Mistress / Proprietoress – Madam *Araba Baidoo*. 

* Vote Of Thanks – By *Blessing Adwobah Nda – Ackah* #SchoolGirl 

* Closing Prayer : Apostle *Lincoln Asare* – Founder/Head-Pastor *Fire Of Favour  Chapel International* #FCI 

* Conclusion: Refreshment As A Means Of Merriment Or Merrimaking,Thus Food And Drinks Served By The Teachers Of *Medway International School* #MIS. 

Sound System Equipment, Provided Courtesy Apostle *Lincoln Asare* Who Doubled As DJ Or Music Controller Whilst Yours Truly *Ike Boat* Did Most Of The Speaking As *MC* Job Entails. 

Kindly,Note And Publish The Descriptive Poem Titled *Medway International School – MIS* On Top Of It. Also,Use The School Crest Or Emblem On As Part Of Pictures. Thank You. Yours In *Synchronized Chaos International Magazine* #SCIM – *Ike Boat* 

 Kindly,Fix The Following TikTok Web-Link Into It Respectively.  

*Ike Boat* On A Promo-Vlog Of *Medway International School* #MIS – Motto: *Nurturing For Excellence* . Location: *Blue Top Estate* Of Kasoa,Central Region Of Ghana,West Africa. To Enroll Your Wards/Kids,Kindly Contact: *+233267580333* Or *+233244617556*. #DayCare #Creche #Kindergarten #Primary #Admission #Good #Teachers #Better #Compound #Best #School – You’re Welcome To *Medway International School* – MIS #NurturingForExcellence

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFbpSFg1/  #Click #Follow #Comment #Share #Repost #Thanks 

I Do Wrong


I do wrong while going to draw a rose every time
Every time my absent mind flickers and falters
Back to the darkness
Swim on the bed
No sight of night queens
No scent of tuberoses
Touch my head or mind
Only in the vacuum I watch and fight
I do wrong every time, no chance of drawing my love bird
The light of the day sometimes covered with
The brown ashes of gunpowder
No greenery getting the pass
I'm standing here for long in chain
Can anybody come forward to free my chained condition?
Oh! The beauty I like most.  


Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
30/12//2022



Riot

That started years and long years or decades ago
The insect never permits to bloom the flower
You can see no bud having any fruit
We live in such a place where we cultivate the land
But without any harvest back to home in silence
Not that the land is barren, watered or desert
Something unexpected always harms the crops 
We frustrate and blame our fate
How should I go on such hungry life?
Life spoils the lives staggering on.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
30/12//2022

a rainbow halo
around the bright moon tonight—
somewhere, a dog barks



neighbors’ Christmas lights . . .
Orion reclines as he
rises in the east



cold, dark December—
is that a jet way up high
or the space station?



power lines ripped down
by high winds before the storm—
first day of winter



eleven below—
the two chickens have to sleep
in the humans’ house



silence at midnight . . .
six inches of heavy snow
weighs down the tree’s boughs



-------------



bio/graf

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poems have appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of ten chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Nelson’s first full-length collection is in ghostly onehead, published by Post-Asemic Press in December 2022. Visit MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.

On the wings of dreams

 Nilufar Rukhillayeva

a student of the National University of

Uzbekistan named after Mirzo Ulugbek

Dreams are a way to get into a world where you are happy.

Some people think that dreaming is stupid, others just live with it.  Scientists have come to the conclusion that the ability to dream is one of the main characteristics of a successful and happy person. Probably, there is no person in the world who has not indulged in dreams at least once in his life.  It all starts from childhood – thoughts about the future appear in our clear heads.  Psychologists say that in this way the formation of the child’s thinking takes place, the imagination of a small person develops.  They also point out that most children’s dreams are illusions that are unlikely to ever come true.  But this fact does not bother the little ones, they have a short memory of blessing and disappointment. Thought streams are formed in their heads, and what is happening now, right now, is important to them.  Everything else flows like a river without a future or a past.

It’s hard to live without a dream,

There is a consequence, everyone step.

Good, bad, big, small,

Everyone has their own dreams man

So that a person does not get tired of living, a world of dreams is given to his heart. There is a human race that wants to satisfy the dreams that he was born with every moment.  To live in life, only the dream itself is lacking. If you are asked, “What is your biggest dream?”, you will be silent for a moment. I wonder if the dream can be big or small?  as it changes depending on how it looks. A dream is not a whim.  It is the pillar that has caused humanity to reach the present day. What is the human dream not good for, you say?!

I have heard a lot that “Everything depends on the intention”. As a person grows up, his desire to “return to childhood” replaces his dream. A person with big dreams requires effort to achieve his dreams. As for my dream: Patience to man! If the element of Patience leads a person, then there is one step left to achieve the dream and achieve success!

Dreams,

Dreams that are stretched to the height of the sky,

In flight, the falcon smelled

Dreams.

bursting like fire

stung like a deer

The wave hit and swam like a wave

from "The Second Book of Job"


I. 


Everyone gets to be Job for a year.  

Or more.  Gets to feel that trembling and fear 

of losing it all, watching it get lost.

Everyone learns that lesson.  Knows that cost.

 

You’re not alone when the divorce lawyer 

warns about the marital home.  Or you’re 

not alone, when you learn another boss 

governs the universe – and not you.  Loss 

 

is inevitable.  But it’s what’s next 

that no one remembers.  We get the shit.

We forget the growth.  So never forget 

that in the end you might just get a sexed 

 

up mate who loves you more than anyone 

who ever did.   With all those others done.

 

 *

 from "The Second Book of Job"

II.

 

Job Junior lost the marital home when

He and his Ex- were in arbitration

and this clause became paragraph 3 (B),

in the Clerk-filed dissolution decree,

cause 49 dash 33, CV,

and a “you” and an “I” replaced a “we.”

 

He transferred thirty-eight thousand dollars,

and he intuited things could be worse,

 

much worse.  Put one thousand books –  poetry,

Literature, drama, philosophy – 

 

Into storage.  He took the last unit,

next to the dumpster, the only model

not re-modeled.  Sat down with a bottle

on the porch.  Impoverished and moonlit.  

 

*

from "The Second Book of Job"



III.


 

Job’s losses left him as blind as Homer

or Milton and now he is the owner

of very little.  Someday his awareness

will match that of the poets.  He has less

 

to carry homeward, and has no homeward

to speak of.  It’s impossible to look

back without becoming frozen.  His Book

is closed.  To lose faith, okay, but the Word?

 

It was lost as well.  So at the machine,

for a spell, staring at the keys, the screen,

and his hands, it all came out gibberish:

“NIGHT OLD MAN HATE MONEY WHITE LUSTY DISH. . .”

 

For now, it was just blindness, no insight.

That spirit of Homer would have to wait.

 

 *

 from "The Second Book of Job"

IV.

 

This particular Job, losing ‘The Word,’

just let it all rip and let it all out.

Typed away.  Just squeezed out every turd

that fell out of his mental ass.  About 

 

midnight he filled three pages’ worth:

HOTEL BILLS . . .  SAME ROOM . . . WEDDING NIGHT . . . HORSE TRACK . . .

ROUTE TO THE HEART . . . MILLIONAIRE . . . HE GETS IT . . . 

FREE LOVE . . . MONEY FOR THE PONIES . . . YOU SAY

 

MORE ANAL . . .  TALK ABOUT THE SECOND BIRTH . . .

I WAS NOT THERE FOR THE FIRST . . . TAKEN BACK

IN TIME . . . DIRTY UNDERWEAR . . . ODD DEBTS . . . SHIT . . .

WHAT’S HAPPPENING . . . DO I DOUBT . . . DO I PRAY . . . 

 

HELL . . . PURGATORY . . .  PURGATORY . . . HELL . . .

 

But she was gone.  He knew things would end well.

 

 *

 from "The Second Book of Job"

VI.


 

Another Job lost seven days with each

of 2 sons out of every two weeks.

“Fifty-fifty fair” made it hard to bitch

but he did anyway, however weak

 

it left him feeling.  And the Ex- would switch

this day for that day so many days

that he recognized a slow, distinct leak

in his clock, his calendar, in his haze.

 

Sanity was a thing now out of reach.

There was no point in trying to talk her 

into paying back time.  This was not her

M.O.  And he couldn’t pay the lawyer.

 

He recalled the man in the coat, the wind,

the Sun . . . that fable would win in the end.   



*

from "The Second Book of Job" 

VII.

 

Another Job lost his credit rating.

His wife decided to have an affair

with Neiman-Marcus, or women’s clothing,

generally speaking.  A millionaire

 

was the last affair.  It was spending power.

That was the deal. In an icky hour

in a hotel room beneath his pay grade

he allowed her equal status: she paid.

 

Savings accounts and college funds went down.

He learned her weakness was the winning horse.

Wads of fives and tens turned up in drawers.

(It takes a lot of paint to paint the town)

 

This Job inherited: a millionaire.

Grew bored with the track.  But loved the clothing.

 

 

SJ Fowler is a writer, poet and performer who lives in London. His work aims to encapsulate an expansive understanding of what poetry and literature can be – exploring the textual, visual, asemic, concrete, sonic, collaborative, performative, improvised, curatorial – through 40 publications, 200 performances in over 40 countries, 4 large scale event programs, numerous commissions, collaborations and more. His work has been commissioned by Tate Modern, BBC Radio 3, Somerset House, Tate Britain, London Sinfonietta, Southbank Centre, National Centre for Writing, National Poetry Library, Science Museum and Liverpool Biennial amongst others. http://www.stevenjfowler.com