January 2024 V-9 N-10 Issue No. 106

 

A

WORLDWIDE WRITERS’ WEB

PRESENTATION!

 

PUBLISHED BY

 

OPA

 

OUR

POETRY ARCHIVE

ONLINE MONTHLY POETRY JOURNAL

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com

email us to:

ourpoetryarchive@gmail.com

**************************************

 

IRMA KURTI - INTERVIEW

 

NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH 

POET OF THE MONTH

IRMA KURTI

NILAVRONILL: Welcome to Our Poetry Archive, dear poet. And congratulations as the poet of this month. I would like to know your personal views on literature or poetry in general.

IRMA KURTI: Thank you very much for nominating me as “The Poet of the Month.” It is a joy but also a responsibility to try to give my best in the future. Actually, literature, especially poetry, is going through a rough period. With the development of technology and the internet, there has been a significant decline in reading. There are more people who write than those who read, and those who read generally prefer prose. Poets face immense challenges because most publishing companies will only publish a few poetry books, and very often, the poets themselves have to pay to cover the cost of publication.

NILAVRONILL: What are the factors that have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary life. When, most probably you were not certain of your future as a poet or writer. Do you think society as a whole is the key factor in shaping up you as a poet, or your poetry altogether?

 

IRMA KURTI: I started writing when I was ten years old. My parents, Hasan Kurti and Sherife Mezini, registered me in the "Pioneer House" literary circle in my hometown, Elbasan. I got my first lessons on poetry there. My father was a doctor, but he read a lot. I still preserve as a rare treasure his notes and his diaries on the various books he read during his youth. If it were not for my parents, I would not have continued on my literary path. At that time, my poems did not change much from the verses of the other children; the restrictiveness and closure in which we lived dictated the theme of our verses. Thus, poetry became my salvation.

NILAVRONILL: Do you consider your literary life as an extension of your self-existence? If so, how it is related with the time around you?

IRMA KURTI: Writing is within me; it has become an integral part of me. I look at the world, at the changing seasons, and reflect on my feelings and sensations with a poetic eye. I always keep a notebook with me and write down ideas or verses that, sooner or later, will be transformed into poems. Through poetry, I share my moments of joy, especially the dark ones: my pain and sadness. As the great American poetess Audre Lorde said: “For women, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence.”

 

NILAVRONILL: As a poet, do socio-economy and politics in general influence your literary visions? If so how, and if not, why?

IRMA KURTI: It is impossible for a poet to live in a particular context, in an uneasy situation where there is suffering or violence, and to detach himself from what happens around him. I find inspiration in various themes such as immigration, prejudices, violence, the elderly, solitude, and disability. In my depth, I think poetry is far superior than politics and its immorality.p

o

NilavroNill: Is it possible to put into the words everything that as a poet you wish to express literarily? If not, why?

 

IRMA KURTI: I was born and raised in Albania, a country with one of the strongest and most savage dictatorships. At that time, I thought poetry was my best weapon to express everything I couldn’t say out loud. In fact, poetry was, and still is, my best confidant. Over the years, I came to realize that it’s not possible to put into words my every feeling because poetry derives from it, and it’s part of the soul, which is unmeasurable and infinite. Victor Hugo once wrote, “There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.”

NilavroNill: Do you agree with John Keats (1795-1821) on his ardent believe, “Truth is beauty, beauty is truth”? Even if we take for instance the war of Kurukshetra, the conflicts between Kauravas and Pandavas, or the fall out of second world war in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, how can we manage to reconcile between those truths with beauty as promulgated by Keats?

 

IRMA KURTI: Conflicts, wars, and tragedies unleash the darker and uglier side of human existence; however, our search for light and beauty towards the infinite passes through and confronts obscurity, hiccups, and dangers. After all, beauty will win. As the 19th-century Russian writer Fyodor Dostoevsky stated, "Mankind...can live without science, without bread, and it only cannot live without beauty, for then there would be nothing at all to do in the world!”

 

NilavroNill: Too many writers believe imagery is an essential part of poetry. Do you agree this notion? Even if we consider Leonardo da Vinci’s words that poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.

 

IRMA KURTI: Imagery is important, but I think that emotion is essential for poetry. I am eager to read poems that move me emotionally. I understand that I’ve read an excellent poem when I feel shivers and when the emotion stays with me for a while, even for the whole day. Robert Frost says, “Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”

 

NilavroNill: Do you believe, passionately falling in love with a particular language is essential to excel in poetical ventures? And is it possible to write poems in multiple languages preserving same literary quality? We would like to know your own experiences.

 

IRMA KURTI: I graduated in English language at the University of Tirana many years ago. I then migrated to Italy and lived here for almost 18 years. I have completely realized the importance of knowing foreign languages in recent years; now, I consider them an invaluable wealth. Communicating in Italian and English has helped me to connect with poets and writers from all over the world, has given me the possibility to read books in their original language, has helped me grow and perfect myself in my work as a translator, and has opened a lot of doors for me. While translating my own works from Albanian into Italian and English, it happens that a poem does not always retain the same beauty and fluidity. Most often, the translated poems are better than the original. Every day, I read books in Italian and sometimes in English. I also keep a dictionary beside me and leaf through it because I’ll remain a student for life.

 

NilavroNill: Do you consider poetry as an emotional outbursts of poet’s personal sentiments? Or is it a long journey to realize and express the universal sentiments beyond all personal limitations? Again, we want to understand your views through your personal experiences of your literary life as a poet.

 

IRMA KURTI: As I said before, I have confided in poetry my moments of joy, but mostly, my sorrow and sadness. But poetry is much more than that. It reflects not only our deepest feelings but it also creates a connection with the universe. It helps us attentively look at everything around us, transform our way of thinking, and puts us in tune with the feelings and sensations of thousands of people, wherever they are, transcending limitations and borders.

NilavroNill: I would like to quote T. S. Eliot, “No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists.  You cannot value him alone; you must set him for contrast and comparison among the dead.” We would like to know your views in details on Eliot’s comments.

 

IRMA KURTI: I agree with their essence. Every single poet reads, collects words, phrases, and sensations, and at the same time, gets influenced by the writing, the works, and the style of the poets he has read and loved in the path of his life.

 

NilavroNill: Would you consider, it should be the goal of a poet to enlighten the readers towards much greater apprehensions as well as appreciations of life and eternity in general? Or is it better to write poems only to console the poet’s soul?

 

IRMA KURTI: I don't think poems are written only to comfort a poet's suffering soul. The poet has an important mission: he serves as a lighthouse in the dark; he must be the inspiration and hope in moments of anguish and tears, thus guiding people with his words towards peace and a better understanding of the world. Poetry helps us connect with other anonymous people, telling us we are never alone in our suffering. As the Indian poet Gulzar says, "Poetry is not about personal pain or tragedy. It should resonate the society's grief."

 

NILAVRONILL: We are almost at the end of the interview. I remain obliged to you for your participation. Now, personally I would like to know your honest opinion about Our Poetry Archive. Since April 2015 we are publishing and archiving contemporary world poetry each and every month. Thank you for sharing your views and spending much time with us.

 

IRMA KURTI: I have had the opportunity to publish my poetry several times on Our Poetry Archive, and it has always been a pleasure. Thanks to people like you who work with passion and dedication, Our Poetry Archive has become a meeting place for many poets around the world, a place for confronting and exchanging thoughts and emotions. Reading the verses of each poet, we feel and perceive the power of words; we cross barriers and take a step toward realizing our dream of a world full of peace and equality.

 

 

IRMA KURTI is an Albanian poet, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator and has been writing since she was a child. She is a naturalized Italian and lives in Bergamo, Italy. All her books are dedicated to the memory of her beloved parents, Hasan Kurti and Sherife Mezini, who have supported and encouraged every step of her literary path. Kurti has also won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. She was awarded the Universum Donna International Prize IX Edition 2013 for Literature and received a lifetime nomination as an Ambassador of Peace by the University of Peace, Italian Switzerland. In 2020, she became the honorary president of WikiPoesia, the encyclopedia of poetry. In 2021, she was awarded the title of Liria (Freedom) by the Italian-Albanian community in Italy. In 2022, she was also nominated as the Albanian ambassador to the International Academic Award of Contemporary Literature Seneca of the Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences, Bari. She also won the prestigious 2023 Naji Naaman's literary prize for complete work. Irma Kurti has published 27 books in Albanian, 23 in Italian, 15 in English, and two in French. She has also translated 17 books by different authors, and all of her own books into Italian and English. Her books have been translated and published in 14 countries.

 

IRMA KURTI

 

Time To Get Back

 

It’s time to get back to my days.

It’s been a century since you

knocked on my door. I do not

want to tell you anything about

my sleepless nights, those long

hours wrapped in melancholy,

how many times I stepped on

the subtle path of madness.

 

It’s time to get back to me, to

my gray days, and to wake me

up from lethargic sleep, erase

my anxieties with your smile,

and throw a ray of sunshine

in my life. I’ll be able to turn

it into the most vivid rainbow.

 

In The Mirror

 

I don’t know what this thought or feeling is.

Maybe it’s nothing, just a bit of drunkenness

from this spring that I live within these walls,

where the seasons don’t knock to greet me.

 

I don’t know what this emotion is; maybe it’s

a crumb, maybe a world ... a need of my soul,

eager and thirsty for some harmony and love.

For the first time, in the mirror, I see my smile.

 

Close To The Fire

 

Temperatures have dropped now

and snowflakes continue to fall,

the fire is burning in the hearth,

I don’t know why I feel so cold.

 

You are fleeing in the darkness,

your footsteps are now covered

with snow, my heart calls your

name in a loud and shaky voice.

 

My words, like heavy stones on

you; sorrow and repentance I’ve

inside of me. As you leave in the

moonless night, sitting close to the

fire, I feel that my heart’s freezing.

 

Amid The Pains

 

When you smile amid the pains,

Father, it is not like a ray of sun

in a cloudy sky, nor a rainbow in

the tempest, nor a happiness or a

joy that enlightens my heart.

 

When you smile amid the pains

that don’t leave your weak body,

I see the portrait of this life filled   

with beauty and pain, light and

shade, joy and despair, and then,

my fragility turns into strength.

 

The Walls Don’t Belong To Me

 

This magical sunset fixes snowflakes

as they fall confused and disorderly,

falling in love with each one of them.

 

I stay motionless in front of my house,

I don’t feel any desire to enter,

to be wrapped in its oppressive heat.

 

Tonight, the walls don’t belong to me

I am one with this white landscape,

it doesn’t let go, it keeps me hostage.

 

The snow melts, as part of the show,

thousands of crystals on my shoulders

just like infinite kisses given by love.

 

My soul is mutated into a light feather,

with snowflakes it wanders in the air,

I cannot escape from it; I have to wait.

 

And then, together turn home.

 

IRMA KURTI

 

IRMA KURTI is an Albanian poet, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator and has been writing since she was a child. She is a naturalized Italian and lives in Bergamo, Italy. All her books are dedicated to the memory of her beloved parents, Hasan Kurti and Sherife Mezini, who have supported and encouraged every step of her literary path. Kurti has also won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. She was awarded the Universum Donna International Prize IX Edition 2013 for Literature and received a lifetime nomination as an Ambassador of Peace by the University of Peace, Italian Switzerland. In 2020, she became the honorary president of WikiPoesia, the encyclopedia of poetry. In 2021, she was awarded the title of Liria (Freedom) by the Italian-Albanian community in Italy. In 2022, she was also nominated as the Albanian ambassador to the International Academic Award of Contemporary Literature Seneca of the Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences, Bari. She also won the prestigious 2023 Naji Naaman's literary prize for complete work. Irma Kurti has published 27 books in Albanian, 24 in Italian, 15 in English, and two in French. She has written approximately 150 lyrics for adults and children. She has also translated 17 books by different authors, and all of her own books into Italian and English. Her books have been translated and published in 14 countries.

XANTHI HONDROU-HILL

 

Stories Of The Snow

 

the snow writes

even in the loneliest streets

beautiful stories

 

erases all speckles

so everything can shine

under the starlight

 

creates a new canvas

blank - to write love

in an innocent way

 

snow angels and snow men

all equally fallen flakes

all beautifully united

 

Window To The Fifth Season

 

Do you know the hair that wrote it’s story in the wind?

 

They don’t want you to know

Their names are hidden,

Their fame betrayed…

the women who write with their hair the fifth season.

 

They dance out of the rhythm

They don’t smile at all, you say,

talk back,

let their hair down

let it go with the wind…

 

The fifth season always

starts with the first drop of blood,

with the first lock which can’t be tamed

with the first different look in her eyes.

 

Open the window to the fifth season,

it is the window to freedom

But the way which leads to equality

has just begun.

 

Word Games

 

It’s a just a game

just add your word

whatever comes to mind

quick, without any thought

and them add the words together…

who knows the results?

 

Sometimes it’s just a word game

sometimes words twist and turn

inside the mind,

outside the lipps

and wars start…

 

No, it’s not just a game

carry your words carefully

in your arms in your breath

they are tearing castles down

removing kings and queens

in a flash of a second

just one word

and the weapons talk.

 

We carry the words

of the illiterate

and the unjust

we carry the ones who fell

for a lock of untamed hair

 

we carry in words the weight of world

 

XANTHI HONDROU-HILL

 

XANTHI HONDROU-HILL: Xanthi Hondrou-Hill has studied German and English Literature, Linguistics, Journalism and Public Relations Management in Germany. She has worked as Public Relations Manager at the Greek Consulate in Stuttgart, as teacher for German, Greek and English and is translating poetry from and to all three languages. She is an award-winning Greek poetess who gained international recognition. She is writing poetry since high school and her poems have been published in many international prestigious media and anthologies around the world. She has won in 2022 the first prize at the Gandhian Global Harmony Association and many awards in China, Ukraine, Philippines and Equator. She has been nominated as one of the 30 Stars worldwide in India. She is cultural Ambassador for OXYGEN PEN Sri Lanka, NAMASTE magazine in India and editor for poetry columns at www.faretra.info in Greece and HUMANITY in Russia, as well as co-editor for the international poetry magazine in China. Selections of her poetry have been translated into Arabic, Chinese, French, German, Greek, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Slavic as well as in two Languages of India: Hindi and Bengali.

 

WAYNE RUSSELL

 

Untitled

 

Florida refused to breathe

life into that contorted night!

 

And into this visceral day,

spat out upon, white sand dunes.

 

Perplexities of a dead catastrophic

universe, dead like a malignant tumor.

 

I ask you this, are we plummeting

into an abyss of our own consumer windfall?

 

I heard an unbeknownst glass shrine,

shattered in stealth magnificent, canyon,

of orange strewn red and barren land!

 

Vibrant, plucked like a ripe fruit, glistening

as a dewdrop, upon a blade of grass, on a

Sunday morning.

 

Autumn Morning

 

Mornings are frigid and darkness

still consumes this patchwork quilt,

Autumn tapestry.

 

Deer can be seen in silhouette,

grazing, the new moon sits low,

like a tigress stalking her prey.

 

Leaves strewn twirling like ballerinas,

hypnotic in pirouette, dance in gentle

breeze.

 

Dogwoods sway, their branches seem

to be mourning the loss, of a rejuvenating

Spring hue.

 

Lovers are still strewn casually, down

by the river side, and basking in earthy

colored hammocks, tied to trees.

 

The bounty of last night's drinking sprees,

will be folklore; stories told with pride; like

soldiers wearing shiny new metals.

 

Life Is Worth Living

 

Life is precious and valuable,

it is fragile and gone with a

twinkle of an eye.

 

Everyone's life matters, no

matter what race, ethnicity,

social economic background,

or religious beliefs, or lack of.

 

Sure wish that I could have

talked that kid down, before

he leapt from the forth story

window ledge.

 

Sure wish that I could have

called for help, for that homeless

man, that died behind a lonely pub

dumpster.

 

But I only heard people gossip

about it, the next day, the kid

that leapt into oblivion, the

homeless man that died outside;

cold and alone.

 

I often feel guilty when I'm not

there, to help my fellow human

being, especially when their

mindset is impending doom.

 

Life is precious and valuable,

it is fragile and gone with a

twinkle of an eye.

 

Phenomenon

 

In twilight, eyes closing,

an echo of oceans waves

upon sandy shorelines.

 

I am here safe with you,

my love, for now, tucked

underneath sheets; and

lucid dreams.

 

What is this, phenomenon's

of love, of life?

 

Of Cupid's bow and arrow,

brought the forcefield down,

of a heart once so hardened,

yet now; molded into clay.

 

Your electric touch, the light

of your blue eyes, lit far away

galaxies, yet alone; my soul

shines brightest now, thanks

to you.

 

Phenomenon's can and do

occur, miracles still happen,

God is all around us, I know

this fully, as I collapse into

slumber; blessed by your side.

 

Silhouette

 

Would the raven

come tomorrow

basking within

its silhouette?

 

A tired old relic,

laughing upon

some heartfelt

introspection.

 

No specter, nor

ghoul haunted,

nor hunting; for

absolution.

 

A howl of wind,

written off as dead,

skulls of the mortal

damned.

 

And here we all stand,

a lyric, interested in

inclination.

 

Sway of crass October

ocean, frozen souls,

sealed, and lost for an

eternity.

 

WAYNE RUSSELL

 

WAYNE RUSSELL is a creative jack of all trades, master of none. Poet, rhythm guitar player, singer, artist, photographer, and author of the poetry book Where Angels Fear via Guerilla Genius Press, it is currently still available on Amazon.

 

TERRI MATOLYAK

 

 

The Muse

 

He crossed her path

as if from heaven itself,

an angel slaying the demons

that haunted her.

 

A capture of her heart

as he reached into her soul,

breathing in all that is

within her into himself.

 

Filled with love,

he fed her spirit...

 

With a fiery passion

he breath into her

life and energy,

giving her an insatiable desire

to spread her wings

and fly!

 

Volumes of thoughts

and feelings

converted to words,

splashed on paper

inspired by him.

 

Truly an unexpected blessing

supplying her pen

with never ending ink!

Together they rose as one,

creating and forming

an unbreakable bond.

 

A forever connection

of heart and soul,

powerful love energy,

a never-ending mystery

yet to be unraveled.

 

Now. Yes even now,

a covenant forever,

with her potent and prolific

poetic muse.

Terri Matolyak © 2023

 

Moonbeams And Shooting Stars

 

When darkness falls,

they sit and gaze at the sky;

a blanket of black velvet

envelops them with its embrace.

 

In solitude,

they own the heavens above,

the majestic vastness theirs

as far as can be seen.

 

Here, looking up, she reaches high

for those sparkling dust speckles

spilling across the heavens, as

moonbeam shadows dance

on her dimpled face.

 

There, he sees it fall -

a shooting star spilling diamonds;

they float to his grasping hand;

he holds them to his chest.

 

Moonbeams and shooting stars,

exploding light when darkness falls,

light that takes thousands of years

to reach diverse destinations.

 

But here, in this same moment,

beneath the same sky,

love transcends all time and space.

 

A star touches his heart;

a moonbeam kisses her soul;

the heavens belong to them both

Terri Matolyak, © 2023

 

 

She Is More

 

She is lost in the abyss of despair...

cheeks once sun kissed,

now pale and damp from tears.

 

It's hard for her to remember

she is more...

more than the body she lives in,

more than the car she drives,

more than the zero in her bank account.

 

So hard for her to understand now...

she is much more than her past,

more than her daily routine,

more then what she believes herself to be.

 

I want to scream!  You are everything...

everything that you dare to imagine,

filled with the chance of being even better.

The only limits you have,

are the ones you put on yourself!

Her ears have become deaf.

 

Oh, if only she would remember...

she can do so many things,

go wherever and whatever place she wants to,

and she can be the person she wants to be.

 

Such an ability she has to be great,

of being full of joy.

Always a reason to love and laugh,

create and build,

think and choose,

learn and grow,

to dream big, and get things done.

 

Right now in this moment,

she needs to imagine how things could be.

If I shake her, will she get moving?

If I keep repeating, will she finally listen?

 

And most important...

will she have the courage,

the determination,

the child-like faith,

to say yes!  I am more!

...and then just go for it.

©Terri Matolyak 2023

 

TERRI MATOLYAK

 

TERRI MATOLYAK: Terri is a coal miner's daughter, mother of 4 grown children living in a small town in Pennsylvania.  She has had an interesting life journey, but it's poetry that gave her wings to fly.  She has several published works, and soon she hopes to have her 1st book of poetry published.