Friday, November 1, 2019



Whenever and wherever we write poems on whatever topics, our subconscious mind remains occupied with the situations or the conditions of our surroundings. It may be political, social, economic, cultural or even spiritual etc., but in our subconscious mind all these continue to rule over our inner self. Not that every time we are aware of this, but the subconscious layer of our mind can never make itself free from these realities of our surrounding situations or conditions. Any poet who is well equipped with his or her literary tools and can make a near perfect balance between their literary craftsmanship and surroundings, can create a literary ambience of highest calibre. Only then one can create a literary piece of work which can be called poetry. So, it is indeed a difficult and very complex method through which one has to proceed if one really wants to write true poetry.

Yes, it is also true that almost none of us starts writing poems keeping all these in mind and in our thought process. We write poems as we wish. This wish primarily comes out of our mind to pen down our emotions and thoughts. We like to express our views and put forth our messages through our words and symbols, sketches of co-related pictures. We wish to create a virtual reality of words in relation to our emotions and sentiments, which are again primarily very personal. Yet, we hope others will eventually relate to these personal expressions and applaud them to make them universal. As we want to communicate our emotions and views with other peoples, we make poetry as the medium to make this wish fruitful.

Most of the written poetry is the outcome of these very personal emotions and expressions. But only those which can make a perfect balance between the personal emotions and the surrounding realities to represent the time both in eternity and temporal can be considered as true poetry. Personally, not only as an editor but also as a literary worker I think it is better to realise this complexity of poetry as early as possible in our literary career. Yes, I also agree that very few of us have taken literature as a professional career. Yet, whether we take it professionally or not, whenever we consider literature as a part of our creative expressions, we should consider it as a career, even if it is not associated with our professional activities.

One may argue that these personal emotions and sentiments which are the basic ingredients of writing poetry are the direct or indirect outcome of our integrations with our own surroundings. Whether we remain active or passive with our present times, our words do follow this integration of our individual personalities with the general social behaviour of our own times. So, whether we remain aware or not, our personal emotions and sentiments are also the product of our times, which is closely related to our surrounding situations and conditions. Yes, one can never deny these facts and eventualities. Yet to attain that equilibrium of balance which we have already discussed in details, through which one can represent his or her time perfectly in relation to the eternal time scale requires extensive hard works and dedication. Only then true poetry can emerge with all its complete dimensions. Otherwise poetry remains captive in the poets’ own personalities.

Yes, poetry shouldn’t remain captive in the realm of a poet’s own individual personality. It must be released into the impersonal domain of universal consciousness. If your poem has that power to make its place into the universal consciousness, only then it would be considered as true poetry. Otherwise it would remain as your own emotions and expressions unfortunately separated from its time and space. I can assure you dear readers that almost all of us fail to realise this truth about poetry in general. That is the reason why the vast majority of the poetical works, especially of this present time, is actually a waste of time and effort. Moreover, it has become the trend of this present time that we never focus on the real issues, rather our main attention hovers around the superfluous ones. That is very unfortunate. Publishing poetry collections draws much more attention than the critical reviews of the poems. We like to attain the book publishing events more than to organise a poetry seminar and participate in it. Most of the literary events around the world do concentrate on publishing books and the felicitation of the poets. We try to avoid controversies; we like to remain in good terms with our fellow poets and friends. So, we never try to evaluate the actual worth of literary aspect of the writings. We like to remain popular among each other. These trends are actually playing havoc on the resultant effects which bring down our literature to mediocrity.

Unfortunately, we at Our Poetry Archive are not immune to this hard reality also. We publish poems only. We have not created any space for literary discussions and debates. I think this is really an important domain we should have focused on much earlier. Yes, we know our own limitations also. Yet, within our limited capacity we publish interviews of poets every month. We hope these interviews can open up doors however small they are, to step ahead a little farther. This month we are glad enough to introduce poet MAHIRE NAGİQİZİ of Azerbaijan as the Poet of The Month. Readers will find one engaging interview of the poet with our editorial panel. With this we are also presenting more than a hundred poems of 47 poets around the world. We hope readers will engage themselves in discussions and debates on the literary merits of the published poems.

From The Editorial Desk



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ALICJA KUBERSKA: What does poetry mean to you?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV: Poems - this is relaxation of the soul for me. When I'm bored, I am as black clouds, I want to be rain and start writing, relaxing.

ALICJA KUBERSKA: What’s according to you the meaning of poetry in the contemporary world?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Logical and flowing poetry is the way to the heart, pleasure.

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Can you describe your creative process while writing a new poem?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Nature..., loneliness, white paper and a pencil...

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Did it happen to you that a poem was just your dream?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV: Poetry isn't my dream, but my real life. I look at the world through the eyes of poetry.

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Tell us about your inspiration. What’re the most important subjects to you?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: I wouldn't say so. I'm not looking for a theme. It finds me itself and never leaves me. While I am writing doesn't leave me alone.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Which were the emotions that inspired your first verses?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Especially, love. It may also belong to the motherland, mother and even to the person.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Was your aspiration to become a poet or did all happen by chance?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV: I wasn’t going to be a poet, and now I do not consider myself a poet. Just writing the thoughts of my heart... of my soul on white paper …

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Who is the first person you read your poems to and why?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Not the reader, but the first listener, is my mother. Why that's she? Fact is that only she shows me which is good and bad, and that's reality. Truth that which she knows. I am inspired with her. I feel responsible with her. If she says - "good -go on!  " - then, the world is renewing in my eyes.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Have you published any poetic anthology, if so, what did you feel the first time you got it in your hands?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: The author of eight poetic books, a member of the Writers' Union of Azerbaijan. All my books are my children. When I take my book of poetry, I take my children to my cuddle.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Who are the poets you prefer reading? Do you get inspiration from them?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA:  I prefer Mamed Araz. I am inspired by his poems.

APRILIA ZANK: How important is accessibility of meaning to you? Do you challenge the readers to work hard to decipher your poems, or do you prefer transparency of meaning?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: I prefer that my readers would take pleasure from my thoughts and soul in my poems. Sometimes I read my poems myself for them...and this is great pleasure for me seeing their brightness   on their eyes.

APRILIA ZANK: What kind of poems do you write mostly? Do you have recurring themes, or are all your poems unique?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV:  My life gives me the theme of my poems. I don't like repetition, but it happens seldom and I don't feel how did I do this.

APRILIA ZANK: Do you think your poetry is typically feminine / masculine? If yes, in what way?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA:  Are there gender differences in poetry?

APRILIA ZANK: Do you write mostly about yourself, or do you also have an open eye /ear for the issues of the world?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA; These are my feelings; these can belong to everything that covered us. Even my dreams and emotions can help.

APRILIA ZANK: In what way is your poetry different from that of other poets?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: This may be the difference in the spiritual proximity to people.

LEYLA IŞIK: What are the main factors to make poetry real poetry?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV: Pure feelings and deep logic. If poetry doesn't inspire you, you can't talk about poetry, if you read it and then forget?

LEYLA IŞIK: Do you think imagery is important in poetry? Where does the importance of imagery begin in a poem, where does it end?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: When I write poem, I don't think about it, and this happens on its own.

LEYLA IŞIK: What are the most used types of poetry in your country?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: All kinds of poems. And style by syllables.  that I prefer. This is a masterpiece of folk poetry.

LEYLA IŞIK: What’s important to be a good poet? To write good poems!

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: I think yes! Because a good poet should write good poems. And to write good poems you need have a heart and a soul.

LEYLA IŞIK: Who are the most important poets and their main properties nowadays?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Musa Yagub, Vahid Aziz, Ramiz Rovshan... These poets are my inspirations. Almighty bless him Mamed Araz!

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: Understanding poetry begins with visualizing the central images in the poem. What do you see, taste, smell, hear, and feel? What is the imagery of your poetry?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: If I can't feel all of these, I can't write...I must feel and then write.

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: What is the mood of your poetry? (Or How does it make you feel?)

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: I am anxious. Some themes worried me, which I didn't touched them yet.

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: In your poetry who is the speaker of the poem? Are you speaking to yourself or to others?


DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: What is the message of your poetry? What messages do your poetry convey?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: They are different. And I send them to the life, to the world, to the heaven...

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: Does the internet and social media contribute to the success of your poetry? Is this the reason you write for?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOVA: Yes, the Internet, social networks help to spread my poems. To my readers, who are delighted, I express my gratitude.

NILAVRONILL SHOOVRO: Thank you so much dear poet for the interview. We would like to know your personal experience with OPA as a literary web journal. Would you like to share anything more with our readers?

MAHIRA NAGIQIZI HUSEYNOV: Of course, dear poet. With great pleasure.



Brilliance Of Soul

Temple is the world of everyone's love,
Dream house has its some happening...
Love is the ignite of the heart,
There is flame and fire of soul.

Fate hid behind the path,
Flames looking out behind the coal,
Behaviour would be behind the word,
You would get yield, wealth enough…

Every has hope, in his heart,
Who comes out early in the morning,
to relax, to smell the earth,
the smell of the wind, the smell grew.

If your breathing was with me,
Destroying frost and melting snow.
How longer the way of life,
here is warm breath in hope.

Having the road of life as old weapon,
It is not known, what’s what...
Every moment, every promise ... are mysterious
On every step there is a point stop.

Every field plant is not a flower,
You will find, will not lose the patience ...
Mahira was used to offended,
Knowing, that she has the healer


Forgetting grief and sorrow, this night
I come to visit you on picture.
Looking at me, as though
I avoided you from the visiting

As if I passed by,
A little arrogant, a little irony
Why didn't you know, that I stopped?
Willing for the word, needing glance.

How would you know, God servant?
Somebody prays for you
Stood as slave, handcuff on hand
Wishing you happiness the thousand times ...

I couldn't say, couldn’t tell him,
Couldn't bring my hearty word,
Couldn't wearing the clothes of love
Even, shivering from the cold.

You don't know my fear,
I have the fear of loss ...
Understanding my thoughts,
Say something once from your pictures.
Forgetting grief and sorrow, this night
I come to visit you on picture.
Looking at me, as though,
I avoided you from the visiting …

My Flag

Way of my people, is your manuscript
Growing wishes, my scarlet flag, rise
Your rise, is healed of incurable sorrow
Remember those grief, my flag, rise …

For thousands of years, our inner, are growing your colours,
One of the eternal symbols of our living
Our soul is a pillar hanging in our hearts
Stand up on this pillar, stand, my flag, rise…

Arose with song, from our heart,
Arose with the bridge from Altai ...
Arose from the hope taking to future
Hug us, hug, my flag, rise...

Poems of Babek, Nizami are on your sword,
You live with eternal songs of motherland.
Bending with head, on every corner of the world, to you
You have son, have daughter, have, my flag, rise....

Drowned, drowned with blood of martyr
Covering yourself, with you, thousands of martyrs would come
You are the father's legacy, daughters, sons,
For the homeland, for you, my flag, rise…

Blood deserves to you - said Azerbaijani soldier
Being at the height, is wealth for you - said Azerbaijani soldier
Even enemy, in front of your force, bended down,
He knows that, he will be disgrace, my flag, rise ...

Will Come

Don't stand so sad
That moment will come, will come.
To bare mountains, which you see
Clouds will come, will come.
World is trade itself,
Shops are opposed.
She knows, what she says, is good at
Buyer will come, will come.
If God didn't hit and didn't break,
didn't squeezed by hand,
Soul didn't out of body,
Hope will come, will come.
Don't weep, land would break down
Would break with your support.
Araz would stop, Kur become broken
Supporter will come, will come.
I didn't ask, why?
It isn't difficult, to know your grief,
For wiping your tears ...
Time will come, will come.
Nagiqizi ... blesses you
Don't let, her hope breaking down ...
I know, for beloved
Faith will come, will come.
Let's go far away...
Let's go far away...
Far... far away ...
Those places that ...
Traces were not there.
Let's live alone,
Let's build our world ...
Let's revenge on ...
of lost days
Let's keep silent,
Let's a little think ...
Let him to take us,
to the tomorrow.
Dream without voice,
Soul without voice,
I don't want return ...
to the back past.
What's left there
what I have there ...
Those that remained ...
Only sorrow and grief.
Sadness of my heart,
Grief and sorrow.
Let's go far away...
Far...far away ...
Love will be there,
Tent for us ...
Our love will turn
to a cozy mattress.
In the coldest weather
My heart gets warm.
Didn't let the body
Feel shiver and cold .
Let's start the life
From the beginning,
For writing again.
Life on a paper
Let me again,
To be holy ....
Feeling again,
Being a woman …

How Can I Leave

I can leave everybody, but
But how can I leave you and my God?
God gave a gift, but I did not reach
How can I leave from my offended dream?

They say, joy and grief … couples, are the same
Unable to split, they are couple
Every person’s life is a show,
How can I leave this ….my show?

You are on the peak, but where I am?
I am with you …. with soul and thought.
My legs don’t go that I came to you
How can I leave from my fate?

But you knew grief, my friend
The grief was my stone for building the wall
Let me stay here and petrify with grief
How can I leave from the grief palace?

There is somebody who helps me, which is on the peak
And I pray him plenty
Mahire is life, throughout the life
How can I leave from the land, which I am in love?




When You Are Not Here

When you are not here
Something is missing from my bookshelf,
Maybe a letter
Even a book
Whose pages have been browsed a thousand times
And that light
Stolen from the majestic moon
Of a sleepless night
Just stands there
Silent, trapped in between thousands different types of love
Like a shadow of tracks
From where it goes
And then comes back with memories
So noisy
It plants
A tree
To bloom happily in the warmest day of spring
But like always being the first and only to outstand others.

When you are not here
A star fades
A living being keeps wandering through the sky without meaning
It shows the biggest secrets
For that someone who crossed the native river to the borders of snow
Somewhere in a forgotten place
Exploring the high peaks
Passed down from generation to generation
In the middle of the mystical tracks of life.

When you are not here
A glass of wine remains empty
There is no track of lips
Neither confusing codes for someone to decipher
The bitter taste still feels there
Or an abduction of the moment
Which abandons our world
Even it shadows which still remain
There is more than just an octopus
In the flames of the burning oil
The only flames that never extinguish
From a starry night.

When you are not here
I can't even imagine your portrait
All the colours start to fade
Birds are escaping
With broken wings
But nothing can stop their journey
When the earth kisses the sky
When the waves obey the moon
When a new light shall reborn
And finally, when a soul dies in peace.

When you are not here
I still find myself lurking in the bookshelf
Maybe I am looking for something to find
Maybe a track to that world
Which gave light to my blindness
Like in the old golden times
An unfinished poem
Just written
Broken dreams
In the edge of a window
That keeps hidden the shadows of a different world
The noises of the crossroad travellers
They never stop waiting for the green light
To overcome it
Their steps remain invisible.

When you are not here
I remain speechless
But I keep looking on the surface
There are no seasons here
Just a mess of colours
Mixed with Van Gogh's shades of yellow
Or even something by Dali's angels
Their wings shall confirm another day to start
And then to disappear terribly during the silent bloody moon.

When you are not here
I can only see black and white
Construct of a reflection that goes through
The eye prism
It doesn't know how to divide
Neither unite
It only knows how to light the torch
On the ball of brightness
On that premiere there is no king neither a queen
Only a jester hidden between the curtains
But the spectators remain all watering , sad
By all that confusing drama.

When you are not here
What is left for me to watch
A light that is born during the morning
Or during the dead facades
Which are rising up to be majestic every day
Under my feet I feel god's sacrifice
In the name of what I used to be
Lost between the curves of a rainbow
I finally made it there
To that gate
Which I entered without knocking !



AGRON SHELE was born in October 7th, 1972, in the Village of Leskaj, city of Permet, Albania.  Is the author of the following literary works: “The Steps of Clara” (Novel), “Beyond a grey curtain” (Novel), “Wrong Image” (Novel) , “Innocent Passage” (Poetry), Whiste stones ( poetry) RIME SPARSE -Il suono di due voci poetiche del Mediterraneo (Poesie di Agron Shele e Claudia Piccinno), “Ese-I and Ese-II) ” .  Mr. Shele is also the coordinator of International Anthologies: “Open Lane- 1,” “Pegasiada , Open Lane- 2 , ATUNIS magazine ( Nr 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 )” and Atunis Galaxy Antholgy 2018.  He is  winner of some international literary prizes. Is a member of the Albanian Association of Writers, member of the World Writers Association, in Ohio, United States, Poetas del Mundo, WPS, Unione world Poetry and the President of the International Poetical Galaxy “Atunis”. He is published in many newspapers, national and international magazines, as well as published in many global anthologies: Almanac 2008, 2017; World Poetry Yearbook 2009, 2013, 2015,  The Second Genesis -2013, Kibatek 2015-Italy, Keleno- Greece,  etc.  Currently Resides in Belgium and continues to dedicate his time and efforts in publishing literary works with universal values.



In The Sheets
Of Your Breath

I give you the affable
Tenderness of my lips;
Leafless corollas
In the cold dawn
Of your moans.

Let your kiss cling to my belly
Over the oscillation of notes,
The gentle melody
Perspiring through your skin.

Let my essence
Be your forest clearing,
Exempting swallows
In incandescent delight.

In the inscrutable dream of my bed,
Coastlines of your element,
I wait for the wrecked return.
Kissing the boundaries of the sky
Extending far beyond the sunset.

Take your exhausted lips
Until your wet sights
Are extinct
In my white delusions.
© Alicia Minjarez Ramírez


Moon Chant

A gust of wind and rumors
Hue harmonic perfumes,
Vetiver, coriander, kahve and saffron,
Crumbling the twilight dust.
Silence singing words
Bursting up
Depths of the sky.

My body invokes you
Under the Ankara fresh rain,
Fertile crescent
The spell of my lips;
Liquid light
Of shooting stars.
Horizontal waves
Moistens my edges
In the steppe plains
Of your gardens.

Even the moon is singing
Although no one notices it!

Dressed up in rainfalls
And kissing roots,
Sound waterfalls
Polishing stones
Upon your rivers’ wings.
Holding hands,
Piercing idyllic forests,
Dates and prunes
Are seeded wild,
Like impregnated
Fire water drops
On the green breeze
Of your gaze.

Undamaged yearnings
the absence or presence
Of your breath.
Fragrant essence
Evokes the moss dance
In Turkish oak timbers.

Chimerical magma
Rises and falls,
The ottoman honeysuckle
Of your luminous pores
Opened up
To the furtive wrap
Of my nights.
© Alicia Minjarez Ramírez


Baklava And Honey

Distant contiguous strokes
Set up the prayers of Anatolia.
Eclectic fragrant spices
Clove, sumac, vanilla and cinnamon
Overflowing cornices.
Gold, silver, apple tea,
Water pipes, almonds and kapuz
Songs of your lineage!

Indigo horizons
Melt the earth
Of mud and jade
In baklava and honey;
Musical odors surround
Nocturnal savannas
In the edge of the days.

Bare fingers
On red-berried mistletoe and oaks
Require the transcending kiss,
Reaching the limits of touch
Bluish declining
Of our belongings.

As affable Sultan
Dressed up with Habiye silk.
Transcribe my dreams
With watercolors of straight lines
To drown the sun within,
In the bowl of my palms.
© Alicia Minjarez Ramírez