Wednesday, October 1, 2025
DANIEL MILTZ INTERVIEW
NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH
POET OF THE MONTH
DANIEL MILTZ
 |
October
2025
NILAVRONILL: Welcome to Our
Poetry Archive. Since April 2015 we are publishing and archiving contemporary
world poetry each and every month. Up to the last month we have published 126
monthly issues and 11 Year Books. I hope you would also like OPA very much,
like hundreds of poets around the world.
DANIEL MILTZ: Thank you for the
warm welcome! Yes, I do. It reflects a rich and diverse collection that
celebrates poetic voices from around the globe. I am sure many poets and poetry
enthusiasts, including myself, appreciate the platform's commitment to
preserving and promoting the art of poetry, fostering a vibrant community of
readers and creators worldwide. I look forward to exploring the work you’ve
archived and connecting with the global community of poets you’ve brought
together
NILAVRONILL: Why do literature and
poetry in particular interest you so much? Please give us some idea about your
own perception of literature or poetry in general.
DANIEL MILTZ: Literature
and poetry interest me deeply because they offer a timeless mirror to the human
soul. In a world that often demands speed, efficiency, and noise, poetry
invites us to slow down, reflect, and feel. It distills emotion, thought, and
experience into language that resonates beyond logic - it speaks to something
elemental within us. For me, poetry is not just an artistic expression; it’s a
form of existence. It allows us to translate silence into words, pain into
beauty, and fleeting moments into something eternal. Where prose explains,
poetry reveals. It unveils the unseen - the subtle shifts of consciousness, the
unnamed longings, the deep truths we carry but rarely articulate. My perception
of literature, and poetry in particular, is that it’s both a sanctuary and a
bridge - a sanctuary for the self, and a bridge to others. It connects
individual voices to the collective experience, across time, culture, and
geography. At its best, poetry reminds us we are not alone - that someone,
somewhere, has felt this way too, and found a way to give it form.
NILAVRONILL: Do you believe that your
literary self is actually an extension of your soul? We would like to know the factors and the
peoples who have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary
life.
DANIEL MILTZ: Yes, I do believe that my literary self is, in
many ways, an extension of my soul. Writing has always been more than just
arranging words on a page - it’s how I make sense of the world, how I process
feeling, memory, and motion. In many ways, my literary voice is the most honest
version of myself - a distilled reflection of who I am beneath all the noise. In
the early phase of my journey as a youngster, I was deeply influenced by the
raw, humanistic storytelling of John Steinbeck and the rugged, survivalist
clarity of Jack London. Their work grounded me - gave me a sense of place, of
grit, of the quiet strength found in struggle. Much later, everything changed
when I discovered Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation. That wild,
stream-of-consciousness rhythm, the restless energy, the hunger for experience and
truth - it was like someone had put language to the restlessness in my own
chest. Kerouac didn’t just inspire me to write differently; he inspired me to
live differently. The people around me, too - wanderers, listeners, dreamers,
the ones who spoke in silences more than words - have shaped the way I see and
record the world. Writing, for me, is a soul’s echo - and those who’ve walked
before me have taught me how to listen.
NILAVRONILL: Do you consider particular
language, culture and nationality shape up the poet’s literary self? What is
your personal experience being an American? I would like to understand how much
and in what way your language, your culture as well as your nationality paved
your literary self.
DANIEL MILTZ: Yes, I do believe that
language, culture, and nationality shape a poet’s literary self - not always
directly, but inevitably. They form the atmosphere we breathe, the rhythm of
our thoughts, the lens through which we observe the world. Even when we try to
write beyond borders or identities, those foundations are still there, quietly
influencing what we notice, what we value, and how we choose to express it. Being
American - especially as the grandchild of Eastern European immigrants - has
given me a kind of double vision. On one hand, I was raised with the American
ideals of freedom, individuality, and reinvention and that has deeply
influenced my writing. English is my native language, but I’ve always been
aware that it wasn’t the first tongue of those who came before me. That gap -
between what was lost and what was passed down - lives in my writing as a kind
of longing. Sometimes it comes out in themes of rootlessness or searching;
sometimes in the cadence of my sentences. Culture, too, is more than tradition -
it's a feeling. A kind of collective memory that lingers in gestures, silences,
and intuitions. For me, that’s where a lot of poetry is born. So yes - my
language, culture, and nationality haven’t just shaped me as a writer. They’ve
given me my questions, my voice, and the contradictions I keep returning to.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think the
primary obligation of a poet should be to communicate with the temporal as well
as with the eternal essence of life and the universe? If so, how can one fulfil
that particular obligation?
DANIEL MILTZ: I do believe the poet holds a unique obligation
- or perhaps a calling - to engage with both the temporal and the eternal.
Poetry, at its best, is a bridge: it captures fleeting moments and lifts them
into something timeless. The poet listens to the pulse of the present while
reaching toward the vastness that exists beyond it - the eternal questions of
love, loss, meaning, and existence. The temporal is what roots the poem in life
- the texture of a day, the shape of a conversation, the scent of a place, the
political or emotional moment we are living through. The eternal is what gives
the poem its resonance - the way it speaks across generations, across cultures,
to something shared and enduring in the human spirit. Fulfilling this
obligation requires a certain kind of attention - to both the world outside and
the world within. It means being honest, unflinching, curious. It means
cultivating silence and presence so that the small moment can reveal its larger
truth. It also requires humility - the poet isn’t the source of all wisdom, but
a vessel through which meaning can pass. To communicate with both the temporal
and the eternal, a poet must learn to hold paradox: to see the ordinary as
sacred, and the sacred as something that lives within the ordinary. It’s not
about having answers – it’s about asking the right questions, with sincerity
and with open hands.
NILAVRONILL: It is an established fact
that every poet should create his or her own poetic language as a unique
literary signature that would eventually keep him or her alive beyond his or
her time. I would like to know your personal experience in this regard, and how
can one achieve that unique literary language in his or her lifetime?
DANIEL MILTZ: I believe that every poet must, over time,
create a language that is uniquely their own - not just in vocabulary or style,
but in spirit. A true poetic voice is more than technique; it's a fingerprint
of the soul. It’s what makes a line unmistakably yours, even without a name
attached. That kind of language is what keeps a poet alive long after their
time – it’s their lasting presence in the world. For me, finding my own poetic
language has been a slow, layered process - one shaped by influence, but
refined by introspection. In the beginning, I mimicked the voices I admired –
Steinbeck’s earthy realism, London’s raw edge, Kerouac’s beatnik chaos. But
over time, something quieter began to emerge: a voice that carried my own
rhythms, my own contradictions - shaped by my heritage, my silences, my sense
of wonder and restlessness. Creating a unique literary language means listening
closely - not only to other writers, but to yourself. You have to write enough
to start hearing what’s yours in what you’re creating - what recurs, what feels
inevitable, what feels alive. It also requires courage: to break form, to risk
awkwardness, to trust instinct over imitation. No one finds it all at once. It’s
a life’s work - uncovering, refining, stripping away, and returning. But with
each poem, each honest attempt, you move closer to a language that couldn’t
have come from anyone else. And that, I believe, is the poet’s immortality.
NILAVRONILL: Is it possible to
put into the words everything that as a poet you wish to express literarily? If
not, why?
DANIEL MILTZ: No, it's not entirely possible to put
everything into words. Language has limits - it can hint, suggest, evoke - but
some emotions, experiences, and intuitions live beyond what words can fully
capture. As poets, we try to get close, but part of the beauty of poetry is in
what remains unsaid, just beneath the surface.
NILAVRONILL: Do you think
literary criticism has much to do with the development of a poet and the true
understanding of his or her poetry?
DANIEL MILTZ: Literary criticism can play a valuable role in
a poet’s development and in the deeper understanding of their work. Thoughtful
criticism helps a poet see their writing from outside themselves - it can
reveal patterns, tensions, or blind spots they might not recognize on their
own. At its best, criticism isn’t about judgment but about dialogue - it
challenges, clarifies, and deepens the work. It also helps readers engage with
poetry on a more meaningful level, uncovering layers that might otherwise go
unnoticed. That said, a poet must also learn to hold criticism lightly - to
take what serves growth and leave behind what doesn’t resonate. Ultimately, the
inner compass matters most, but honest, intelligent critique can help refine
and expand a poet’s voice.
NILAVRONILL: Literature encompasses
every aspect of life; it blends the various shades and textures of human
aspirations as well as drawbacks. It also lights up the new horizons and new
dimensions of human capabilities relentlessly. I would like to know your
particular viewpoints; how do you relate all these in your own writings?
DANIEL MILTZ: I see literature as both mirror and lantern-reflecting
the intricate realities of human existence while illuminating paths we’ve yet
to walk. In my own writing, I strive to capture that duality: the quiet despair
behind a smile, the fierce hope beneath silence, the contradictions that make
us whole. Each word is an attempt to trace the contours of what it means to be
human-our longings, our failures, our capacity to transcend. Through stories, I
seek not just to describe life, but to deepen our understanding of it - to
reveal the invisible threads that bind us to each other and to ourselves.
NILAVRONILL: How would you
evaluate your contemporaries and what are your aspirations for or expectation
from the younger generation?
DANIEL MILTZ: I regard my contemporaries with both admiration
and a critical eye. Many are unafraid to confront uncomfortable truths, to
experiment with form, and to dismantle inherited narratives. Their voices,
diverse and unfiltered, reflect a world in flux-restless, fragmented, yet
fiercely alive. However, in this creative surge, I sometimes sense a haste that
risks depth for immediacy, clarity for cleverness. From the younger generation,
I hope for a renewal of patience and purpose. I don’t expect them to follow
tradition blindly, but to question it with sincerity and engage with language
not just as a tool of expression, but as a vessel of meaning. I hope they write
bravely-not only to be heard, but to understand; not merely to provoke, but to
connect. My aspiration is that they continue to expand literature’s horizon
while remembering its root: the profound human needs to tell, and to be told, a
story that matters.
NILAVRONILL: Humanity has suffered
immensely in the past, and is still suffering around the world. We all know it
well. Are you hopeful about our future? What role can literature in general
play to bring a better day for every human being?
DANIEL MILTZ: Yes, I remain hopeful-though not with blind
optimism, but with a hope tempered by awareness and responsibility. Humanity’s
history is marred by suffering, injustice, and cycles of violence, yet it is
also marked by resilience, compassion, and the relentless pursuit of meaning.
This duality is where my hope lives: in the capacity of individuals and
communities to learn, to change, and to imagine better ways of being. Literature,
in this context, is not a luxury - it is a necessity. It transcends borders,
languages, and ideologies, allowing us to inhabit the lives of others, to feel
what they feel, and to see the world through their eyes. In doing so,
literature fosters empathy, which is the beginning of justice. It preserves
memory, warns against forgetting, and dares to speak when silence is
complicity. A poem may not stop a war, but it can awaken the conscience of one
who might. A novel may not dismantle a system, but it can plant the seed of
doubt in a mind lulled by comfort. Literature can envision the world not only
as it is, but as it could be-and in that vision lies the quiet power to reshape
reality, word by word, soul by soul.
NILAVRONILL: We are almost at the end of the interview. I remain obliged to you for your participation. Thank you for sharing your views and spending much time with us.
DANIEL MILTZ: Thank you – it’s been a real pleasure to share these thoughts with you. I’m grateful for the depth of your questions and the space to reflect on the craft and spirit of poetry. I appreciate the opportunity and your thoughtful engagement throughout the interview.
DANIEL MILTZ --Born in South Detroit,
Michigan and resides in Hampstead, NH. Freelancer Writer & Poet. Devoted 40
years to the Engineering business in Government Aerospace Programs as a
Mechanical Engineering Designer. Won over 1600 accolade awards from numerous Poetry
Forums and in 250 anthologies with two published books to date. As a young
aspiring writer, he was fascinated and guided by the spontaneous prose and
poetry written by the writers of the 'Beat Generation.' Writing poetry has been
Daniel’s passion since his early bohemian days living in California.
DANIEL MILTZ
Poet Me
A Poet I am
This my verse
Lying in a mind
cram
Set to write on
clear page disperse
To the delight
of composing poetry slam
The strings of
words; that let me rehearse
The kind of
verses that evoke a dash of poetic glam
A good poem must
invade
Our soul and
mind
Words will be
words portrayed
To make those
each lines intertwined
To embed in our
rationale mind grade
When finished,
it gets our consideration defined
To worship it
for all eternity made
Poet Meditating
I am lying on
floor
Meditating, pen
in my hand
Many thoughts,
just breathing
Counting breaths
I embrace it all
with serenity
Wine in glass
I'm spacing,
Mind a glazing
Writing to you
I will write,
again, again
I never stop
writing
Until, I can
find words to touch you
And until then I
will write
Carefully and
slowly
The world has
yet to awake
While, I unfold
myself from inside
Morning quiet, alone, and in hiding
DANIEL MILTZ
DANIEL MILTZ: Born in South Detroit,
Michigan and resides in Hampstead, NH. Freelancer Writer & Poet. Devoted 40
years to the Engineering business in Government Aerospace Programs as
Mechanical Engineering Designer. Won over 1600 accolade awards from numerous
Poetry Forums and in 250 anthologies with two published books to date. As a
young aspiring writer, he was fascinated and guided by the spontaneous prose
and poetry written by the writers of the 'Beat Generation.' Writing poetry has
been Daniel’s passion since his early bohemian days living in California.
ΧRYSOULA FOUFA
Forgiveness
You are my life
on my script life
every step and
breath I take
reflect your
motherly manner
tenderly
touching me.
Even if I tried
to break through
away from you,
I couldn't
resist your velvet lips
kissing me good
night,
the smell of
your hair
touching my
soul,
your soft voice
calling me back
home
when I was late…
I secretly
adored your inner strength,
your patience,
your daily hard
work
but I dared not
admit
my love to you
openly.
I kept your
image in my heart
I kept your
words as jewelry in my bag
I kept the echo
of your laughter
a mystical
whisper in my dreams.
I am saying now:
I loved you mum
but I couldn't
say that then.
You always knew
it
but you never
asked for it.
You were walking
alone
carrying the
solitude of love
deep in your
breasts
all the way long
till eternity
as waves
carrying the sand
towards the
ocean.
Still, I loved
you.
Labourer
You raised your
head
and looked at
the sky -
your tired eyes
sought for brightness.
Some birds were
flying
across the red
horizon.
The noise of
their wings
was heard at the
distance
keeping you
alive.
“Two minutes
break from work”,
you whispered
before going
back
waving in the
wind
with your
gnarled hands.
You were a
labourer.
ΧRYSOULA FOUFA
ΧRYSOULA FOUFA: She was born in 1971
in Farsala, Greece. She graduated from the Department of English Language and
Literature of the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki with honors in 1993 and
then worked as a tutoring school owner for 6 years. After that, she
successfully passed the ASEP exams and was appointed to the high school in
Astakos Messolongi. She has been teaching
English in the 1st General Lyceum of Farsala since 2000. She attended
various seminars on her subject as well as on psychology and environmental
protection issues. She loves literature, poetry, traveling and dancing. Poetry prizes have been awarded to her for
her poems in national and global poetry competitions so far. She is an elected vice mayor in her town. She
had been the president of a local club concerning Epirus traditions and customs
for 6 years (2018-2024). She is a member of the Board of the Academy of
Farsala. She has got three children.
WILLIAM ZHOU
Two Eyes One Heart
The left eye
said, 'The lotus has bloomed, beautiful!'
The right eye
said, 'The lotus has withered, tragic!'
This person's
heart is panicking
The left eye
said, 'The dawn has woken up, quite fine!'
The right eye
said, 'The sunset has fallen asleep, no good!'
This person's
heart is grieving
The left eye
took a glance at the right eye, “disgusting!”
The right eye
took a glance at the left eye with hatred, “fuck off!”
This person's
heart is paining
The left eye
calling for viewing the problems from the left side
The right eye
advocating reading the world from the right side
This person's
heart is crying
WILLIAM ZHOU
WENDY WEBB
News Of The Blackbird
Piece on earth
dig-worthy for robin
balanced on a
spade
as flowers
flutter worrisome perfection.
Sun presses
through clothing
in days’
progression to summer solstice.
World of peace’s
wildfires/floods/terrorist enclave
of freight train
in bridge collapse, sunflower fresh.
Blackbird
loudhailers dawn,
pierces
yawn-stretching wake-up
in open window
breeze, an earth at peace.
May Torrential Downpours
Spring Mothers
When April was
cruellest
I was not a
mother
nor had one
and last month
Dad opened the card.
No showers to
sing Victorian hymns
nor Billy G to
harmonise her rest.
When next month
brooded
Gran rewarded
her firstborn with a middle
so Dad repeated
the complement of blossom.
Lived to regret
the August wedding
and his
daughter’s shortevity.
He switched to
unpredictable September
all naked
ladies, asters and sedums
outlived every
dog and horse he fed or reined in.
Led Grimm R a
merry dance around grandsons
pipped his birth
star corgi Queen at the post
between August
and November.
In early frost
and lighter mornings
Santa’s beard
and ruddy nose lie buried
as planted
baubles every shade of Spring.
Ache my pilgrim
bones a stone’s throw from Walsingham
and contemplate
mothers – all – next month.
WENDY WEBB
WENDY WEBB loves nature, wildlife,
symmetry and form and the creative spark. Published in Reach, Sarasvati,
Quantum Leap, Crystal, Dreich, Seventh Quarry, The Journal, The Frogmore
Papers, Acumen, Drawn to the Light; online in Littoral, Lothlorien, Autumn
Voices, Wildfire Words, Our Poetry Archive, Atlantean, Poetry Kit, Amateur
Gardening, Leicester Literary Journal, Drawn to the Light, Poetry Wivenhoe,
Seagulls (Canada), forthcoming: Poetry Breakfast; broadcast Poetry Place. Book:
Love’s Floreloquence; Landscapes (with David Norris-Kay) from Amazon; free
downloads of other poetry from Obooko.
VALSA GEORGE
Smell Induced Memories
As I walked into
a family restaurant
My nose got
tickled all of a sudden
By a familiar
aroma that entered my nostrils
It transported
me back to the years long past
When I was a
child at my far away home
In my mother’s
kitchen on a Christmas day.
The smell of
chicken stew and ‘noodles’
And the
intoxicating taste of steaming coffee,
Raided my memory
with deep nostalgia.
The spicy aroma
of her kitchen still haunts me
And how I miss
her culinary talents!
Amid this smell,
pops up her smiling face.
When I catch
such scent, how my mind runs to my mother.
Though she is
not with me now, what sweetness is there
For those
memories that tie me to my mother
And wish those
smells should never fade away.
It gives me the
feel that she is with me, so close.
When the smell
of Jasmine wafts through the air
It always brings
memories of our first night
When I
timorously entered my husband’s room
Carrying the
delicate texture of a dream.
Lending romance
to the still night.
His bewitching
presence and endearing words
Filtered down
into my mind, making me feel
Both of us being
lodged and lost in a fairy land.
When we mingled
and melded into one,
In a spark
emitting sensuous indulgence,
Never thought we
would be together all these years
Drinking from
the same cup, the bubbling wine
And the bitter,
acidic potion of pain, alike.
Holding on to
those honey dripping memories,
I re-live those
heavenly moments.
Is it not
strange that memories buried
in the wavering
wash of time are stirred
that lie ash
laden when olfactory senses activate
the neurons of
our brain from time to time!
Along With The Thunder
The sky looks so
irate and angry today.
Dark clouds
strut and stamp along the sky.
Lightnings
hoisted high move like tilt walkers,
Slithering
sparks slice the lump of darkness into pieces.
Thunder rumbles,
its loud screams shatter the peace.
The ear-
splitting ‘boom’ makes one cringe in fear.
Through the
leaves, the wind is whipping hard,
Announcing the
arrival of an impending rain.
Soon water drops
lash down adding special effects.
* * * * *
The transition
from a clear sky to an ebony one,
Was too sudden
with the hot summer day cooling off
And winds
blowing from all directions and silver droplets
From heavens
falling, whispering and telling of love.
Is not love like
a thunderstorm, overwhelming and intense?
It comes
unexpected, consuming one from head to foot,
Flashing like
lightning and pouring like rain
Flooding to the
brim, allowing all desolation drown,
Making one dance
like a peacock with strut feathers.
But sometimes it
comes crashing like thunder,
Splitting our
limbs, tearing us asunder and bringing us pain.
Love at times is
so brief, like the tropical storm,
Not more than a
flash of lightning, a painful memory.
But all depends
on through which angle we look at things.
Instead of
fearing the raging storm and the lightning,
That come along
with the thunder,
Feel the rush of
energy all across your ears and body,
And allow the
vibration, course through your veins,
Shaking loose
the lethargy and inertia from you.
When it rains,
don’t look down on the puddles below,
But wait
hopefully for the spectrum of colours,
Arching
beautifully in the cerulean sky and rejoice!
VALSA GEORGE
VALSA GEORGE is a retired professor
from Kerala. After her successful career as a teacher, she took to poetry. She
writes on a wide spectrum of topics spanning Nature, Love, Human relations et
al. She has authored over 1500 poems in varied poetic forms which she regularly
posts in international poetry websites, reputed journals, and literary
publications. She has four anthologies in her name - Beats, Drop of a Feather,
Rainbow Hues, and Entwining Shadows - the latter two available on Amazon.com.
One of her poems ‘A space Odyssey’ has been included in the CBSE syllabus (Rain
Tree Course Book by Orient Black Swan) for the 8th grade students in India from
the year 2018. Another poem ‘My Fractured Identity’ is prescribed for the
undergraduate students (Voyagers) in Philippines
TANJA AJTIC
Just Be Mine
Jealousy in me
is the base wall.
With it I am a
horseman in a heavy armor in France.
Jealousy in me
children's playgrounds.
I, as a jellied,
fruit juice boiled with sugar, I feel bored.
In my youth and
squeezing space,
I am the
professional sworn-dancer.
I'm becoming a
lively French dance, I'm dancing.
Music.
The shaving
knife is under my throat.
Jealousy, like a
fountain from me, popping up high.
I was never born
under Jupiter, a happy planet.
My planet is
Venus.
To be a clown is
my job.
In my life оf
toys, I feel pleasure in everything.
I'm going
through the time that does not exist
Measuring my
purpose of existence with a stake
for point and
direction measurement.
I'm late for all
the afternoon seats and parties.
I have no
aesthetic feeling
for fixed days
of receiving on Sundays,
when it was
possible to come in without a call.
I get in, they
get me out of the whole world.
I fly, I can
only fly with my jealousy,
to fly with my
stake
and measure my
heartbeat
because I love
you.
Life!
Ode of Joy, of
life and birth,
Everything in
the world
They were
already composing many
And only with
the heart it can be seen
And feel message
of love.
What I feel
writing poem,
It is not in
silence, only
Where does it
start and ends everything
That is the
silent one a human being
And it permeates
the whole, always
In every breath
and a sigh
Creation of the
world and universe.
She doesn‘t
sleep
She is already
forever awake
And warns that
it is biting,
Like a heart
biting...
Look at the
stars, in the heart
And pick up the
stone
And you will see
life it is everywhere.
Explainable is
inexplicable
And everything
is impossible are possible…
Just feel it
And connect with
love,
Universal love,
what she is
First and
foremost
From one God
given.
Cosmos,
Without
beginning and end,
And it
compresses and expands,
Expands and
contracts,
All according to
God‘s will.
That they
created you
And me they live
in love.
TANJA AJTIC,
TANJA AJTIC was born in Belgrade,
Serbia. She lived and studied in Serbia at the Faculty of Philology-Department
of Serbian Language and Literature. She is a poet and writer but she is also an
artist. She also deals with fine graphics in the linocut technique. Since 2002,
she lives and creates in Canada. Moved to Belgrade, Serbia in summer 2023.
Tanja Ajtic is a member of many groups and associations. In Serbia, she is a
member of the prestigious Society of Writers of Belgrade. Her poems and stories
have been published two hundred collections (books), anthologies, electronic
books and magazines. Her poems have been published in English, Serbian,
Chinese, Croatian, Iraqi, Bengali, Indian, Bulgarian, Tunisian, Arabic and
Spanish. In the spring of 2018, at the "Pegasus" competition of the
Literary Youth of Serbia, Belgrade, she won the award for printing the first
book of poetry "Outlines of Love". Her book was exhibited at the Book
Fair in 2018 in Belgrade, as well as at the Book Salon in Toronto in 2019. -
She is represented in the Anthology among the 30 best writers for 2020 by the
Association of Writers of Australia (USUA). She won first place, the award of
authors from abroad in the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina (2020), Canton
of Tuzla. She won second prize in Great Britain from the Serbian Library in
London (2019). The winner's book was published and was exhibited at the Mini
Book Fair in London (2020). She participated with books and anthologies at many
fairs in the world with other authors.- She won III World Prize for Excellence
"Cesar Vallejo" 2021 in the category of artistic excellence Lima,
Peru, by the World Spanish Union of Writers and International Award of
Excellence; from the World Spanish Union of Writers, UHE Mexico. - Received the
prestigious UHE Platinum Eagle Award, PLATINUM EAGLE AWARD, invitation to
Mexico, Oaxaca, to present the award; I premio mundial a la excelencia "El
aguila platino 2022" Union hispanomundial de escritores (UHE), Mil mentes
por Mexico internacioanl (MMMEX), Academia Mundial de literatura, historia,
arte y cultura; November 30, 2022.- She won the I International Award of
Excellence "Cita Del Glateo" Antonio De Ferrariis, IX edition 2022 –
Rome, Italy, a prestigious award in the group of poets for the English language
(IX edition of the award for foreign poetry in English) in 2022, Rome, Italy. -
Winners of Foundation Naji Naaman literary prize iz 2023; (21st Edition), from
the Republic of Lebanon, Honor Prize (for complete work) for Literary prizes
2023. Poetry for the competition was submitted in three languages: English,
French and Arabic.- Winning the 2023 “Zheng Nian Cup” Literary Award – Third
Prize by the Beijing Mindfulness Literature Museum, China. - She is the winner
of many awards, diplomas and certificate. She is currently writing poetry,
short stories, haiku, gogyoshi poetry as well as graphics artist as a freelance
artist.
TAMIKIO L. DOOLEY
Raven Upon My Ship
I matured,
Suffering
terrifying hallucinations,
Many midnights,
I stirred in cold perspirations,
Tugging for
breath, my heart heaved and wheezed,
To the advantage
of daylight,
After the
terrifying hallucinations,
Rest kept
asunder,
And never
satisfied me until
I acknowledge
what I had become,
What had I
become?
Surely, nobody
knows, nobody knows,
But me, aye,
I walked the
through the shadows,
Of the
hallucinations wide aware,
My heart pulse
in my ears,
I listen to my
breathing,
What caused me
to react that way?
It was the raven
upon my ship,
I dreamt,
I sojourned a
ship,
And, I sojourned
under the dark, blue waters,
Waves provoked
as I stirred the ship,
To no terminal,
And the raven
showed upon the American flag,
Swinging on a
flagpole,
In the water,
How odd the flag
I considered, in the water, underwater,
It’s banishing
implied to be calling me,
I was told to
guide the raven on the ship.
And it was the
raven itself who uttered to me.
Perhaps, It’s Time To Rejuvenate
Every blessing
may present itself in unique shapes and forms.
Perhaps it’s
time to rejuvenate,
Unwind, unwind,
Traveled both
ways on the journey,
Perhaps it’s
time to rejuvenate.
Rather than
refresh,
Unwind, unwind,
Regardless of
the situation,
The moment of
triumph has arrived.
Maybe the
significant happenings of the day,
A blessing
stirred something within.
It’s time to
rest.
Rather than
refresh,
Unwind, unwind,
Traveling back
and forth during the journey.
TAMIKIO L. DOOLEY
TAMIKIO L. DOOLEY is a
multi-award-winning author. She is the author of 150 titles and 100 published
books. The author writes fiction and nonfiction of crime, thriller, mystery,
fantasy, historical, western, romance, zombie apocalypse, and paranormal. In
her spare time, she writes short stories, poetry, articles, essays, health
books, and children’s books, diaries, journals, inspiring books, culture,
African American, and history books. She is also a blogger.
TAGHRID BOU MERHI
On The Edge Of The Poem
What wall is
this
that slips from
my side
whenever I touch
my shadow?
What prophecy
scratches my throat
when I scream
from a silence
growing on the gums of poems?
I did not write—
I was merely
moving an illusion
to open a door
to emptiness between my hands.
Every poem I
wrap around my waist bites me—
like the ecstasy
of the first time
I kissed the
mouth of metaphor… in forgetfulness!
Every letter
dripping from the cracks of meaning
betrays me…
drops me to the
knees of confusion.
What meaning
guards the borders of fire
when the flame
becomes a trembling palm
in the lap of a
hesitant poet?
I throw myself
into the poem
as if I do not
belong to it,
as if I shed my
skin to wear the robe of paper.
Every verse is a
postponed nap
before the
moment of painful maturity,
and I am still
clutching the thread of childhood
as if it were
the last rope of salvation.
What language is
born from the nakedness of forgiveness?
From the
bleeding of meaning
when the shadow
grows old and refuses to sleep?
I plant dew on
the cheeks of the poem
as if I am
fertilizing it with the drunkenness of clouds—
and if it
scatters,
spring will come
to me from the waist of the unseen.
I write to
suffocate… deliberately,
to taste the ash
as it transforms
into a string playing the tremor of existence.
So, is the poem
a salvation?
Or a hidden
funeral we hold on the graves of the self?
And am I… merely
a witness to the suicide of the letter,
or a murderer
with ink that cannot be washed?
In A Suspended Being
I do not say
"I"
except to spell
out this still emptiness within me.
What is being?
A question
stretching through my blood
like a wound
without memory.
I am the being
who loses his shadow
in the crowd of
awareness,
and meaning
becomes heavier than he can bear.
Each dawn, I
wake to a call never uttered,
and to a
certainty
that suddenly
abandoned me.
I touch myself
in the water,
yet existence
does not wet me—
as if I am a
balcony that forgot to face the light.
I walk
weightless,
without trace—
as if I were a
confusion between possibility
and the
impossibility of happening.
Is being a
prison?
Or an air too
vast for the lungs?
I reproduce from
illusion to illusion,
and find myself
only
a dormant idea
in the mind of
God.
I am not I—
I am a
suggestion of absence and excess of meaning,
and echoes of a
struggle between fire and clay.
When I knock on
my heart, it does not open,
and when I beg
my voice,
it receives
muteness from an ancient memory.
O being that
merge with emptiness,
why am I granted
time but not myself?
Pain needs
nothing more than a being
who understands
that existence is not salvation—
but the ongoing
trial of absence.
So erase me…
that I may know who I am.
And grant me a
name that denies names—
so that I may
finally become my being
as silence
willed it,
not as the first
noise drew it.
TAGHRID BOU MERHI
TAGHRID BOU MERHI is a
Lebanese-Brazilian poet, writer, author journalist, editor, essayist and
translator. She is fluent in several languages. She serves as the President of
CIESART in Lebanon, Literary Translation Advisor for the Platform of Writers of
the Levant, and the World Union of Arab Intellectuals. She is also the Brazil
representative for the "Creative" Foundation (Germany) and a global
poetry advisor for CCTV (China). She has received multiple international
awards, including the Nizar Sartawi Award, the Najy Naaman Award, and the Cheng
Xin Award. Her works have been translated into 48 languages. She has authored
23 books, translated 45, written around 205 articles, written introductions for
48 books, and contributed to more than 210 national and international
anthologies.
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