Wednesday, September 1, 2021





For all the violence imposed on her

For all the humiliation she has suffered

For her body that you have taken advantage of

For her intelligence that you have stepped

For the ignorance which you have left her in

For the freedom you have denied her

For the mouth you shut, and for the wings you clipped


W. Shakespeare from Stand Gentlemen in front of a Woman.


Among the themes that have most fascinated poets of all time, women certainly occupy the most important place. The female gender has always inspired deep emotions and passions giving life to wonderful poems and texts of great value.  Women have permanently been in male thought and writing as beings to sing for their beauty and virtues. Rarely for their strength and intelligence. Poetry is rich in verses dedicated to them and among the poems considered the most beautiful of all time are the timeless lines by William Shakespeare in “Stand up gentleman in front of a woman” that, beyond the uniqueness of the style, and despite the slow but long passage of time remains a fresh, modern portrait of the female condition.

Women have been for long the object, not the subject of poetic narration. The numerical disparity between the works of male and female matrix depends on a series of variables that sees, in every society, them considered as beings to be relegated to domestic environments, their education and entry in social contexts denied. They had to fight with sagacity and determination to conquer, and in small steps, each freedom that was them precluded. Nonetheless women poets have been able to give their own personal reading of the world, giving voice to fundamental themes in the life of individuals up to the definition of a self that is not individualistic but collective, the female self.

The first known poetess, that the history of poetry remember, is Enheduanna, a Sumerian priestess who lived approximately in the XXIV BC. After her, one of the most beloved name in women's literature is that of Sappho, a Greek poetess who lived, more or less, in the 6th century BC.  Originally from the island of Sappho, she took care of the education of young girls from aristocratic origins. Her only composition preserved intact is the Hymn to Aphrodite, goddess of love.

Many centuries go by before poetic compositions signed by female authors appear again. In the 13th century, under the pseudonym of Compiuta Donzella, an Italian from Florence breaks the silence with three sonnets. And it is in the second half of the 1300s that Christine de Pizan, author of both philosophical and poetic texts, marks a historical moment in women's literature as the first author who lives by writing. But it is after the Renaissance that in Europe  women become real protagonists of verse writing. And if in all this long period of time they had been considered marginal figures in the literary field at the end of the nineteenth century, they are recognized equal dignity in relation to their male colleagues. This is the time when the names of Emily Dickinson, Madame de Stael, Eveline Cattermole emerge.

At the international level it is during the twentieth century that the richest production of female poetry is recorded and that counts some figures still of great inspiration today. Among them, worthy of mention are Sylvia Plath credited with advancing the genre of confessional poetry;, Anne Sexton who was the first to tackle problems such as abortion, sexuality and women's rights becoming one of the first feminist authors like Virginia Woolf; Ada Negri nominated to the Nobel Prize in 1927, Grazia Deledda who summarizes in her poetics all the main currents of the time and the first and still the only Italian woman to receive the Nobel Prize for the literary section in 1926.

The women poets distinguished themselves for the investigative perspective and the spirit of observation with which they described the world around them, complex and difficult both from a literary and a social point of view and which saw the woman at the beginning of her political and cultural emancipation. Their gaze towards this world is not central, but observes from the margins of the society in which they are locked up as wives and mothers, rather than as poetesses. Their analysis is very far from the masculine one which includes the narration of the war. Their verses delicately describe the point of view of the most humble, marginalized part of society or the hypocrisy of the more educated social classes.

The international scene today boasts a long list of names of poetesses who describe, with different styles and sensibilities, every aspect of female everyday life. Capable of probing the human soul, they produce compositions of great emotional impact, which tell reality with a new gaze and the condition of women with a surprising sincerity, moving the consciences of readers with passionate and intense reflections.

Maria Miraglia







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.

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Only a very emotional person who does not calculate the integrities of life, in order to find solace will be a hard-core prose and poetry lover. I guess that’s what I am. To me, poetry is like loving your lover trying to unveil him slowly each day and discovering something new that makes you fall in love each day.

NILAVRONILL: How do you relate your own self existence with your literary life in one hand, and the time around you, in the other.

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Well, being a Post Graduate in English love and interest for literature has always been into my life and curriculum. Though I am an entrepreneur for almost 26 years now but I always found time to grab all kinds of literary books to quench my thirst. Being a multitasker for many years I have been able to balance between work life and love life


NILAVRONILL: Do you believe creative souls flourish more in turmoil than in peace?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: In both of course. It depends upon in which mood the creative soul is. While Rabindranath Tagore has written “Where the mind is without fear” when our nation was in a politically turmoil situation, he has also written peace poems like ‘Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf’ in his poem “The Gardener”. It applies even to other creative souls.


NILAVRONILL: Do you think in this age of information and technology the dimensions of literature have been largely extended beyond our preconceived ideas about literature in general?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: It has largely extended beyond our preconceived ideas as today the market is more global more digitalised and a budding writer can reach millions of readers through the right use of social media. Literature has spread its wings. Readers are observing, reading your articles and if you have quality you will reach the hearts of millions.


NILAVRONILL: Now, in this changing scenario we would like to know from your own life experiences as a poet, writer and a creative soul: How do you respond to this present time?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: The present pandemic time period which we are all going through taught me a lot of things about life and people. It Inspires. The present time is very difficult and we all need to combat it together with patience and hope. With so much leisure time in hand we can develop our literary capabilities.


NILAVRONILL: Do you believe that all writers are by and large the product of their nationality? And is this an incentive for or an obstacle against becoming a truly international writer?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Absolutely. Never an obstacle, today there is no bar raised between nations when speaking about acclaimed writers. A good literature piece if the publisher and the writer can promote universally it will be appreciated by the mass. It will reach the hands of the people in every nation around the world he might be sitting in a small town in Bareilly or in a popular city like Boston.


NILAVRONILL: Now, if we try to understand the tradition and modernism, do you think literature can play a pivotal role in it?  If so, how? Again, how can an individual writer relate himself or herself to the tradition and to modernism?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Though there is a vast difference between traditional writing and modern writing. I think any creative soul should be open minded towards both the style of writings and learn to appreciate both. In that way he/she will be able to create something unique.


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?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE:  Criticism can be of various kinds. In today’s self-conscious social media, negative criticism can kill a budding poet. But the right kind of criticism can help a creative soul to develop, realise mistakes and help to achieve success.


NILAVRONILL: Do you think society as a whole is the key factor in shaping you up as a poet, or your poetry altogether?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE:  Yes society, its people, the environment, my own life experiences, helped me to be sensitive towards different feelings and helped me to write poetry and shape me up as a poet.


NILAVRONILL: Do you think people in general actually bother about literature?  Do you think this consumerist world is turning the average man away from serious literature?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: The day Art and Literature will die history will rewind its pages and humans will be considered as cave men once again. In this consumerist world there is still a large number of literary lovers. Some express, some don’t. Too much of consumer culture can affect people’s mental well-being and only art and literature can give them holistic peace and satisfaction.


NILAVRONILL: We would like to know the factors and the peoples who have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary life.

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: It’s a long list which includes my jethu, pishi (uncle, aunt) who were product of partition and the stories they read and narrated when we were small, my parents who still possess their collection of Bengali Sahitya, my professor who taught me to feel and vision poetry, my husband and son who are themselves very creative have been my greatest critics and motivators, my friends and readers who still continue to support and encourage me.


NILAVRONILL: How would you evaluate your contemporaries and what are your aspirations for or expectation from the younger generation?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: The young generation creative souls inspire me a lot. The world is more open to them they are more sensitive, and experimental. I get to learn a lot from them.


NILAVRONILL: Humanity has suffered immensely in the past, and is still suffering around the world. We all know it well. But are you hopeful about our future?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Nothing is permanent, why would suffering be considered to be so. With patience and determination, we will reach a better world.


NILAVRONILL: What role can literature in general play to bring a better day for every human being?

GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: Pen is mightier than sword and the right kind of literature can create new thoughts of hope and positivity among human beings. 


GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: An entrepreneur, a romantic poet, actor of the poetry film Kolkata Cocktail, a free-lance journalist who still loves the first showers of monsoon, eighty’s Hindi songs and maccher jhol bhaat cooked by her mother. Her debut poetry book ‘Unturned Verses’ was published in the Kolkata International Book Fair.







Winter Warmth

Now that you have left me behind,

I hate sleeping under the winter sky

listening to the cooing of the doves,

calling his mates to warm his nest.

Eavesdropping the sounds of the television

couples cuddled to watch the late night movies,

silhouettes visible from the glass windows.


I would love to sense

Your warm tight hands from behind

under our cosy blankets of memories,

Your hot breath, falling on my neckline,

our fingers intertwined,


As you fall asleep, your slight snoring

sensations of your presence.

Grasping palms loosen unconsciously

with the slight movement of my fingers.

you tightly grip them, a mark of possession.


I want to feel the winter warmth,

along with you in my emotions,

sipping coffee cups, stained by your lips.


Keats Nightingale

Can you please tell them?

I don’t want to be a fairy.

Fairies are too white, too bright.

They seldom tell lies.

I love the grey shades of my life.

Not too white, nor too black.

Just a tinge of both.

That makes me feel like a cloud.

That can explore.

I can be a bird instead

Maybe Keats’s Nightingale.

An uncaged city Life.

Spreading my wings.

To taste freedom galore.




I can just sit down leisurely

like a stone carved idol

looking like a stoic.

Imagining, reasoning, recollecting moments

but doing nothing at all.

The heartbeat of the clock

keeps pacing time.

When suddenly, I realize

that I have heaps of work

that remains incomplete.

But still......

I remain inactive.

Cursing, my existence




And then my pillow tells me.

I am good for nothing.


Caged Bird of Angelou

My diary pages are filled

with half-written verses

Of unidentified concealed thoughts.

My ebony ash tray is filled.

with half-burnt cigars

of sorrow and pensive clots.


The terrace is lined

with half soaked garments

of previous days forced passion blots.

My windows are filled

with half rays of sunshine.

expecting hope of future lots

I, like a pensive caged bird of Angelou.

saw the shadows of the street lamps as

human’s exhaust. ..

Kept contemplating

What lies in the future?

What is to be gained?

And what is to be lost?

Love The Stranger. 

One day, we will meet again. But as strangers,

That day. I will wear a crimson red sari

My bun will be adorned with palash flowers.

You will look at me from a distance.

As you once glanced, oblivious of the crowd,

That day will be my day.

A day remembered forever.

(Inspired From The Poem, ‘Hothath Dekha’ 

By Rabindranath Thakur)



GOPA BHATTACHARJEE: An entrepreneur, a romantic poet, actor of the poetry film Kolkata Cocktail, a free-lance journalist who still loves the first showers of monsoon, eighty’s Hindi songs and maccher jhol bhaat cooked by her mother. Her debut poetry book ‘Unturned Verses’ was published in the Kolkata International Book Fair.





When You Go


When you go the wreck

from the bottom ..

all the girls are dark ...

and at the top she is all white ..

e that took my mind ..


I was awakened by the smell coming from her

I smelled the love of Trebinje this morning


I loved the streets she walked

the place where she was sitting ..

I looked at her in a nicer way

from her mirror ....


She taught me that some closenesses stay close even when they are somewhere very far away ...

My destiny is she and my someone ...


There under the lashes, in the trembling of the body, all dreamy,

the girl fell asleep, a woman woke up.

With me, everything is still budding

nothing fades ...


I hear an echo in my soul ... a struggle of desire and smell ...

I whisper thoughts that your wishes still smell like me ...


I always pray for her ..

and every prayer of mine is dedicated to her ..

that she is always happy and healthy

and I would take another walk through the bazaar

of her dreams



I Think


I'm thinking of something ...

Memories creak underfoot ... He smells lilac from afar, as if in a dream ...

And I fall in love again, in her eye. Everything the night wrote ..

Dan confirmed ..

You know ... I dreamed you were kissing me.

And I write indescribably

And I love the untouchable

I'm waiting unexpectedly

Sometimes I get lost in the dark

I look forward to morning, dawn

Nothing big

I just live ..

I just love ..

All my absent glances ... are all present feelings about you. I am so wonderfully silent and I love you inside ....

I'm without you .. out of my mind ..



You Were Forgiven


On my deathbed.

I will give you freedom ..

and in that world you will be my fairy

my death was simple for you ...

while you sit without me by our bubbling river ..

you will realize that you were a battle that cannot be won,

but he likes to fight for her ..

I have tied many eternities to you ..

And now I have created eternity for myself ..

And where I'm going ..there

I survived all this a long time ago,

What is killing me here ....

There is love, love

He is a prisoner here.

The world is crazy and everything on it will pass quickly ..

I'm not calling you anymore. Not because I don't want to,

but because I'm afraid how many times you won't come ...

I never wanted to spit on my love ...

I lied in my prayers when I swear to you ...

You'll never have someone like you hurt,

No one will ever love you like the one you don't love ...

At night you will hear sounds, those are the songs played by flutes ...

A man finds himself, so he gets scared ..

We force ourselves to love something ..

Then we realize that it is not what we lose ...

Devils are coming for me ..

I'm not afraid of them ..

I'm afraid the one I love,

He doesn't like it anymore ..

How to deal with failure if you were not enough of a person

to which you wanted to be everything and gave yourself completely

when you failed to make the person you wanted the most happy ..

but remember one thing

and in that world you will be my fairy

my death was simple for you ...




ZORAN RADOSAVLJEVIĆ was born in Trebinje on September 25, 1961. A child of a mixed marriage, from a Serb father and a Muslim mother. He wrote from an early age; he did not publish everything until recently. He was the editor of the newspaper Jedinstvo from Smed Palanka for a while. publishes the first book "Footprints" which he dedicates to her. He publishes a collection of poems "Dreaming", and the novel "Stumbling about his own life" After some time he publishes a collection "Where a smile tears tears" as a collection of poems painting ", with the painter Nedjad Fazlinović. His last book is a poem dedicated to his great love Senada" Trebinje still smells like her ". He is a participant in many festivals, was a participant in the Sarajevo Winter Festival last year and won the Silver Snowflake Award with the poem "Trebinje still smells like her" ..







Curiosity will help you live

Books, the pages of books

Words are food

to every day that will come

My son, my daughter,


But the reading of books must not

Cannot satisfy a curiosity either

There is a reading, the one we do

Watching the others

Listening to the others, meeting the world.


In the world there are more important books

To read and, above all, to write.

Inventing, giving to read

Without fears. Spreading.

The world, people, places.


Like pages waiting to be

Crossed by our looks.

A book, still white, waiting

To be written. Or written again.

Read or read again.

By us.


Exactly by us.





To My Love   


We have planted a forest of flowers and fruits

nowhere to be found, amoung your eyes and my heart

for the days and the months of each season

that will still come

so we'll play to get lost among the paths

filled with shadows and every day every month

every year that left for me

as a flimsy apprentice, to pick up

the fresh petals of your smile.




In the Beginning was Poetry

It knots again the torn threads

of the souls

and makes of them a deep tissue

the Soul of the World



VITO INTINI: born in Noci, Italy in 1956, is poet and artist-performer, founder and art director of the Kunsthalle Gallery and Kunsthouse Arte Natura for artists in residence. In recent years he loves to paint trees to plant more trees in its beautiful countryside of the trulli in Puglia in Italy. Cultivate ancient grains and produces extra virgin olive oil centenarians. With her family has planted a small forest of trees and rare fruits. His writings and his poems are published in several languages. He has participated as a poet and performance artist in several festivals in Italy and abroad: Poetry / cloister of the poet Giuseppe Goffredo; Milan-Poetry; Nisan Festival of Poetry in Mghar, Galilee of the poet Naim Araidi; Kartal festival of Istanbul poet Metin Cengiz; finalist at Baghetta Prize at the Festival of Literature in Milan. He teaches History and Philosophy in high schools and advocates a Sweet Green Global Renaissance




Baikal Lake


The clean and clear

as fresh water from the spring

quiet and willing to agree to everyone

you dispense your beauty for nothing

and love gives to someone who is despised

such suffering no one deserves.


Broken wings fly out of breath

above the icy North Sea

without bowing and greeting from anyone

all enjoy your supernatural being

and leaving without goodbye saying.


Do not idle my heart watching you

I have gone through such a ice sideways

and stifled sobs soul that does not give up

when plunges into the water without depth.


I'll take you to Baikal Lake

the world's biggest water mirror

there are fresh water is not wasted millions of years

and pure beauty in one place rests.


In these the deepest Lake in the world

your Soul will get a face

You'll look into it intently


Baikal Lake is like You

deep, powerful, infinitely beautiful.




Once again in a part of the world

silence will be ancient river water

sludge from the bottom watches on the surface

long, long the snow will not fall

windless air will become stale.


Do not worry, the world will not remain small

on the other side of the world strengthen visionaries

thoughts free as slaves just released

thrive in the fresh grass in the meadow

the mountain of them grows

and you do not see

those thoughts build our life whole.


Thoughts travel first by evening train

and if its stop at the first station, become rotting

and quickly drown in the mud,

if its make it come to the last stop

will experience later years

win yet unconquered regions

and build an unprecedented white city.


When conquer a one part of the world

take a sleigh and eight reindeer

and roam the skies like Santa Claus

in the mind of a one inspired Visionary

no one knows what the world will receive

as gift strange name

but it certainly would not be the same.


Goddess Maya


You want to silence me with effort

at least for a while to no wider voices of love and duty

as ice in winter silencing waterfalls

not to spread the sounds of colossal beauty.


And you will succeed in this just a little

I will collect in my chest the fire of the sun

of the accumulated brightness will grow like the giant sunflower

at the moment of salvation, there will be an  eruption of light.


In a second, I will repel you, Goddess Maya

waterfalls will flow through my eyes

You will forget the skillful game, only for you beloved

the light will cover the dark of the night.




TATJANA LONČAREC is a poetess from Zagreb, Croatia. She has published two collections of poems – That the World does not Die (2005) and Crowned Roses (2008). She is an active member of poetry association "Morning Poetry" Zagreb. Mute Melodist chosen her poem "White Nights" for Poetry anthology Paradox/Oxymoron as the Language of Poetry.  Collective collection of poems COM-PEN-DI-UM published May 2016 in the USA where Tatjana Lončarec participated with five poems. Realistic Poetry International chosen her three poems for Realistic Poetry International Anthology 2016. Nav Works Press' USA, Los Angeles in new book Sometimes Anyway: Pride in Poetry Volume II published her poem Cavalier. 2017. Poetic Bond VII Anthology UK  2017. also published her one poem.  OPA Anthology 2017,2021.