OCTOBER 2023 V-9 N-7

 

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

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

KELLE GRACE GADDIS - INTERVIEW

 

NILAVRONILL TALKING WITH

POET OF THE MONTH

KELLE GRACE GADDIS 

OCTOBER 2023

NILAVRONILL: What are the factors that have influenced you immensely in the growing phase of your literary life? When, most probably when 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 you up as a poet or your poetry altogether?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: When I was in elementary school, kindergarten through sixth grade in the United States, I was bookish and quiet at school. In summer the public library hosted a reading contest each summer. To win, one needed to read the most books. I won every year from first grade through sixth grade, which gave me a wealth of knowledge in poetry and fiction at a very early age. I was able to read at a college level by fourth grade. So, like many who fell in love with reading at a young age, I soon began to imagine myself as a writer. In second grade, I created my first handbound book. I still have this little book today. So, to answer the question, I would say I fell in love with reading and the idea of writing from the time I could read. The books I read influenced me to become a poet and fiction writer. My influences were other writers ranging from Dr. Seuss to Sylvia Plath and all points in between.

 

NILAVRONILL: Is there anyone in your life who influenced you personally to develop your literary skills? Or inspire you to become a poet?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: My father was a Doctor of Chiropractic, but when he was in college, he played in a band and loved all facets of the arts. Both he and my mother, who paints and sculpts, encouraged me to pursue any creative endeavors that I was drawn to. They kept me stocked up in books to read and journals to write in. My second grade teacher, Ms. Kane, was the one who encouraged me to create my first poetry chapbook. She taught me how to design the book and bind it together. A skill I still use today. Later in life, my high school and college writing peers also provided considerable encouragement.

 

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

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: My literary life is integral to my identity and life. Even when working in the non-literary world, I think like a writer. When I come up with an idea or think of an interesting turn of phrase at work, I quickly text to myself so as not to forget. I write it into a poem or short story when I get home. To this end, for me, the world is a poetic event. As I experience it, time provides an opportunity to capture life's inherent poetry and instill it with my personality. I see myself as one who weaves the world's humor, tragedy, and beauty into poems with varying degrees of success.

 

NILAVRONILL: According to you, what are the conditions to develop the creative soul of a poet in general? We would like to know from your personal experiences.

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: Firstly, I believe people are either born with a creative soul or not. However, if one is born with a creative soul, being well-read is essential for cultivating one's natural gift as a poet or writer of any other form. That said, some people only realize they have a creative soul later in their lives. Immersion in poetry is also extremely important. These days I have less time to read than I once did, but I still read some poetry and fiction every week to keep my mind attuned to my craft.

 

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?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: The view that technology enhances poetry is quite popular in academia. To some extent, I agree. Technology has taken us beyond our ideas of literature, especially if one accepts that AI-written poetry is sometimes quite good. The computers have access to all of the poetry uploaded into their memory banks, enabling them to replicate the best of poetry with new inputs that work. However, as a human being who likes to write, I prefer human-generated poetry, even if flawed, because its created by one mind and one imagination rather than an amalgamation of creative works input into a database. Technology-driven poetry is a novelty, whereas human-written poems and stories are the product of the mind and soul of a conscious human being.

 

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

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: I'm fascinated by the socio-economic and political events in the world. At times, these enter into my work. In 2015, I wrote a poem about a gelatinous man with no spine because he would not state his political opinions. It was published in Clamor Magazine and, later included in my book My Myths, published by Yellow Chair Review. And, in 2019, I wrote an anti-Trump poem published by Dispatch Editions anthology Resist Much Obey Little before I realized I'd been propagandized about the man. I now like Trump and wish I could retract that poem, but it is in print, so there is nothing to be done about it now. Since then, I've steered away from political poems because most of the poetry world leans into the far-left ideology I do not support. There are few places to publish poems from a Libertarian or Republican perspective. Not writing political poetry doesn't mean I don't write about politics. I wrote so many controversial essays on the Medium platform that their rigid censors banned me. I have several political essays up on the Substack platform now.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you consider your national identity as an important factor in influencing your literary creativity identity? Is your national identity an incentive to find your own literary voice?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: I was born on the Tulalip Indian Reservation, which is part of the Native American Nations in the United States. I wrote many poems about my early life there and my transition from the reservation to mainstream USA. Because I chose the American national identity, my nation is important to me. My family was part of the "melting pot" generation, and I believe our assimilation benefited my literary career and personal growth. Many would disagree with this choice in today's woke climate, but I stand by it.

 

Reservations in the 1970s were bleak places. My parents ensured I had a mainstream American education, which, back then, was very different from the education young people get today. I was fortunate to be immersed in classic literature, philosophy, and history, which I still love. Reading the great works inspired me to write. So, embracing the American spirit and American way gave me the confidence to create, think and grow as a writer.

 

People with different national identities can also create, think, and grow through their experiences. The embrace of the love of one's country can be an inspiration regardless of the country one is born. It's about collective values and ideology, a turnkey connection with others of similar backgrounds. When one writes from a national perspective, there is an automatic connection to those with a similar foundation, and for those from other countries, national poems offer insight into the people outside of one's own national identity.

 

NILAVRONILL: In between tradition and modernism, which one influences you the most and why?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: Aesthetically, I prefer traditional poetry, most likely because, as I have mentioned, I was raised reading classic literature and poetry. That said, I have written modern poetry and seek to grow as a writer by exploring new forms from time to time.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you think honest literary criticism has much to do with the development of a poet and the true understanding of his or her poetry?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: When I first attended college in the late 80s and early 90s, literary criticism and group critiques were common. I grew considerably as a writer during this time, and I still believe it is valuable for a writer to receive criticism of their work. Honest criticism will always make the work better. Later, between 2011 and 2016, when I acquired a Certificate in Finance from Yale and a Master's in Creative Writing from the University of Washington, I learned that honest literary critique in poetry circles had become a thing of the past. People giving honest critique is more beneficial than exclusively receiving hollow praise, but modern poetry students are more sensitive to criticism, so it's rarely given. In my MFA writing program, so-called "negative criticism" wasn't allowed. Without the help of my fellow writers' critical eye, it is more difficult to work out the kinks in a poem. I have cultivated a couple of literary friends who will give honest criticism, and I am profoundly grateful for them.

 

NILAVRONILL: I would like to know if your contemporaries inspire your writing in any way.

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: I am inspired by all poets. It doesn't matter if someone's poetry is written in my or a completely different style; every poet teaches me something.

 

NILAVRONILL: Do you believe literature can help people to uplift human conscience?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: People have always grown and changed through story and poetry. And, although civilization is under fire from woke ideology, which seeks to destroy it, I am optimistic because writers are still producing meaningful literature that impacts people's morality and ethics. As long as there is literature, conscience, and civilization will continue.

 

NILAVRONILL: Humanity has suffered immensely in the past and is still suffering worldwide. We all know it well. As a literary person, how do you foresee the future of mankind?

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: Although some suffer more than others, no one escapes suffering. As a poet and literary person, creativity, writing poems and stories, is a way to heal, teach, and transcend issues. Writers’ strike universal chords in the hearts and minds of their readers, which can bring people together. On a grander scale, I believe the future of humanity will be experienced differently by people. Some will experience a nightmare, others a mediocrity, and others still a dream. People everywhere can find themselves in any of these, if not all, throughout their lives. Which one becomes their most profound experience depends on how flexible they are. Those who can adapt or are willing to take action to improve their circumstances will do better than those who are rigid and unwilling to change. My short answer is that the future is bright if one is willing to see brightness regardless of circumstances.

 

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 of Our Poetry Archive. Since April 2015, we have been publishing and archiving contemporary world poetry each and every month. Thank you for sharing your views and spending a lot of time with us.

KELLE GRACE GADDIS: I am in awe of your eight-year commitment to Our Poetry Archive. As a former publisher, I know how much time and work goes into curating literary works. Secondly, I'm grateful for your generosity and worldwide reach. You allow so many of us to connect with others worldwide through your amazing creative endeavor. I have enjoyed reading and sharing work with this worldwide literary community. Thank you for including my work in Our Poetry Archive and also for the interview!

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS is the author of My Myths published (Yellow Chair Review) and When I'm Not Myself (Cyberwit). Her work has appeared in BlazeVOX, Rhetoric Askew, Dispatches Editions, and elsewhere. She is a 4Culture "Poetry on the Buses" winner, a National Fiction War winner, and a three-time NYC Midnight top fifteen finalist.

 

 

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS

 

Modern Freedom Fighter

 

My heart’s song, a desperate plea,

to restore my mind, to set it free.

to speak without first a nervous glance,

to joke without risk of wrath.

 

I long for the wild days of my youth,

Unobserved, wild and uncouth.

Now a dissident in the culture war,

A keyboard warrior on every shore.

 

I hope someday to again be free

from all forms of leftist tyranny.

“Unplug, and go outside” some say,

but I live to type another day.

 

The Distress Of A Civilized Romantic

In The Modern World

 

I want to tell young people stories

of heroes and princes,

of fairy godmother’s and wishes

come true.

I want life to be beautiful again,

as it was before heterosexuality

was “basic,” and, “normal” a slur

or offense.

I want all to know they’re worthy

of love, and, for education to stop

making the young unbearably dense.

Oh, to end Tender, Bumble and all

else shriveling the human heart.

A plea to put down your phones,

to stop swiping left and right.

I pray people remember that humans

were once more than beasts.

We’ve evolved too far to return to the sea.

 

Single Seed

 

No person does it alone,

A child is not a potato

caught in dark soil.

Our seeds are sown by family.

 

If in one’s youth the vine is broken

humanity is less.

As is the individual

and all other fruit left behind.

 

Less is the ungrateful child

Who like a branch fallen in a river

becomes bogged down the further

it is swept away.

 

Any child lost is cause for sorrow,

because all of our roots entwine.

Cast not oneself as a single seed.

If anything grows in you at all,

 

it will be the rot of loneliness,

anger and greed. Bend instead

towards the sunlight and don’t

fall far from your family tree.

 

Advice To My Younger Self

From My Higher Self

 

Ambition is the alchemy of gold

Bad habits make gold hard to hold.

Make determination your magic,

gambling and other vice

will leave you tragic.

Misplaced passions can decimate

personal gains.

However, with work prosperity rains.

Be steady, brave, fair and true. And,

know, dear one, I’m here for you.

 

Aging

 

One never imagines oneself old

until time rests upon one’s face

reducing youth’s natural grace.

 

How glorious it was to have youthful appeal!

To lose it slowly seems unreal. Yet, I have

known the sorrow of society’s reduced zeal.

 

Even with a half century and more,

I cannot grasp my final days. Instead,

I proceed in denial’s gentle haze.

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS

 

KELLE GRACE GADDIS is the author of My Myths published (Yellow Chair Review) and When I’m Not Myself (Cyberwit). Her work has appeared in BlazeVOX, Rhetoric Askew, Dispatches Editions and elsewhere. She is a 4Culture "Poetry on the Buses" winner, a National Fiction War winner, and three-time NYC Midnight top ten finalist 2022-2023.

 

PETER A WITT

 

Hearing in Silence

 

Yesterday the sound of waves crashing

on the beach filled my ears with sandy joy,

today I am beset by grind of traffic, honking

horns, cab drivers yelling out the window,

 

move on, move on.

 

Why can't cars commute in reverent silence

so we can hear the quiet of the forest,

the rush of water retreating from the shore.

 

Why can't city voices be still so we can hear

thunder of a waterfall, miracle of a baby's first cry,

sound of earth touched by hiker's boots,

song of a migrating yellow warbler,

sigh of lover's as their mouths join for the first time,

tinkle of an ice cream truck delivering a frosty treat

on an overheated, humid summer evening.

 

Reflections III

 

Morning lake shines like a mirror, reflecting images

from the pastel sky filled with watercolor clouds

on the cool, crip lake surface. Trees cast their silhouettes

on the shimmering lake, while splashes of golden sun

reflect off the silent waters.

 

Symphony of sounds fills the air, with the lonely

call of loons, the rustle of fallen leaves disturbed

by white-tailed deer warily coming to quench

their thirst at the pristine shore, flock of noisy honkers

rising from their overnight roost to continue their journey

south for their winter stay, the first sounds of sleepy-eyed

humans, emerging from their tents, starting a fire,

sharing memories of night dreams and distant plans.

 

Too soon, a restless wind brushes the lake,

replacing reflections with ripples and whirls,

as clouds and humans get on with their day.

 

 

 

When darkness obscured the light

 

Pandemic sent me into a world of alone,

a place where fear of the unknown was known,

and each of us faced our fears, lonely and afraid,

it was like looking at a meteor headed for earth,

not knowing where it would crash, who it would kill,

whether survivors would face serious consequences.

 

Some chose to be deniers, trivializers, while friends

and neighbors, mostly older, were hospitalized, died,

trying to catch a breath as exhausted nurses and doctors

rushed from room to room, or pleaded on TV for people

to vaccinate, mask up, social distance...I did all three,

shut my blinds and my door with only talking heads

for company, until I could not stand the aloneness

and went walking, social distanced, in the park,

looking for birds and deer, perhaps a squirrel

who enjoyed the absence of people in their space.

 

I'm still alive but attending too many postponed

Memorial services for friends and family, wondering

What pandemic is next, telling my troubles to a blue jay.

 

Dis-appointments

 

When I was six, Mother hauled

me to the pediatrician, said I talked

too much, at eleven she took me

to a psychologist because

I wouldn't answer her questions

about how was school, who

I ate lunch with, and why I played

music in room so loudly,

at twenty-four, my soon to be ex-wife

nagged me into going to a fertility doctor

since she was sure I didn't hear her

when she offered to have sex six days

a week, at fifty-eight a different wife

of thirty years said I needed to see

an audiologist since I didn't hear her

when she asked me to empty the garbage,

now, at 80, the same wife thinks I need

a gerontologist to help me remember

things, like the day of the week

when the garbage container needs

to be rolled to the curb.

 

In the future I'm sure they'll be more

doctor visits to determine why

I didn't see the dog in the driveway

when I backed out, and failed to hear

the phone when it rang. Between

visits I'll immortalize these moments

in poetry, then stare at the page not

remembering how the words got there.

PETER A WITT

 

PETER A WITT is a Texas poet and a retired university Professor. His poetry has been published on various sites including Verse-Virtual, Indian Periodical, Fleas on the dog, Inspired, Open Skies Quarterly, Active Muse, New Verse News and Wry Times. He also writes family history with a book about his aunt published by the Texas A & M Press, and is an active birder and photographer.

 

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

 

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

 

Kelvin Doe

 

Kevin Home Alone

 

What should be done to protect a house?

Poverty lurks on the doorstep

It wants to break in and steal

dignity, dreams, hope.

 

"A weapon can be made from a couple

 of rusty cups and bars"

The Knowledge - the eternal enemy of Poverty

whispers how to win this battle.

 

"One needs to light the house,

banish the darkness from the corners,

hang like lanterns

 sparks of faith in a better tomorrow.

 

Kevin listens carefully

and builds many small power plants

 

The Sahara

 

The earth swollen

with rain will bear crop.

Life sleeps in the little seeds

and it waits for the time to wake up.

In the rhythm of falling raindrops,

mighty trees, tiny flowers sprout.

It's a riot of colors and scents.

 

In the desert,

the cracked soil begs for water.

Rain clouds grudge rainfalls

and they wander

different paths in the sky

 

Once the Sahara had the emerald dress.

Now it wears coarse rags.

It dreams of returning

to the green of the trees.

 

Web

 

Stories woven from words

drift like gossamer

- they are so light,

transparent.

They change shapes,

tear threads,

fade and disappear into oblivion.

 

Holes in memories

are mended by colorful tales

about what might have happened.

 

Recorded stories are like fabric.

They are trapped in knots

on the basis of the past time.

 

 

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA – awarded Polish poetess, novelist, journalist, editor. In 2011 she published her first volume of poems entitled: “The Glass Reality”.  Her second volume “Analysis of Feelings”, was published in 2012. The third collection “Moments” was published in English in 2014, both in Poland and in the USA. In 2014, she also published the novel – “Virtual roses” and volume of poems “On the border of dream”. Next year her volume entitled “Girl in the Mirror” was published in the UK and “Love me”, “(Not) my poem” in the USA. In 2015 she also edited anthology entitled “The Other Side of the Screen”. In 2016 she edited two volumes: “ Taste of  Love” (USA), “Thief of Dreams” (Poland) and international anthology entitled “ Love is like Air” (USA).Next year she published volume in Polish entitled “ View From the Window”, collection of love poems in Arabic and English entitled “ Love like arabesque ( together with Egyptian poet Mandour Saleh Hikiel). In 2018 she published international anthology “Love Postcards” and her volume in Russian entitled “Selected poems”. She is a chief editor of series of anthologies entitled “Metaphor of Contemporary” (Poland) . Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies and magazines in Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, the UK, Belgium, Bulgaria, Hungary, Albania, Spain, Turkey, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Israel, the USA, Canada, India, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Italy, Uzbekistan,  South Korea, China, Taiwan, South Africa, Zambia, Nigeria and Australia. Her volumes were translated into Albanian language by famous poet and academic Mr Jeton Kelmendi, into Telugu language by famous Hindu poet Mr Lanka Siva Rama Prasad, into Turkish by famous Turkish poet Metin Cengiz, into Italian by famous Italian poetess Maria Miraglia and into Arabic by famous Syrian poetess Shurouk Hammouud. She won : distinction (2014) and medal (2015) on Nosside poetry competition in Italy, statuette in Lithuania (2015), medal of European Academy Science, Arts and Letters in France (2018)), award of Cultural Festival International “Tra le parole e l’ infinito” Italy (2018) She was also twice nominated to the Pushcart Prize in the USA. Alicja Kuberska is a member of the Polish Writers Associations in Warsaw (Poland), E- literaci (Poland)and IWA Bogdani, (Albania). She is also a member of directors’ board of Soflay Literature Foundation (Pakistan), Our Poetry Archive (India). She is Polish Ambassador of Culture of The Inner Child Press (the USA). She belongs to Editorial Advisory Board of Sahitya Anand (India) and IPA Editorial (India).

 

 

ANIL KUMAR PANDA

 

I Will Turn Into Ashes

 

I will turn into ashes

And the sky will burn in flames

Your love will melt like dew

I will be away from praises and blames

 

I will not return

To have your love and feel good

Not to write poems on your beauty

To sit by the stream to think and brood

 

May be my fragrance

Will linger for someday around

Then it will diffuse and slowly my

Body will be dissolved in the ground

 

Who Knows

 

Who knows

To where this life will take

May life me to the sky

Or bend me and break

 

Who knows

What lies ahead on the path

Life has gone through many

Ups and downs since birth

 

Who knows

When the final bell will ring

When the heart will stop

Will be a fallen bead from the string

 

Who knows

Tomorrow if we can meet

If the sun will rise for me

And to my friends I can greet

 

Who knows

 

Barns Will Be Full With Crops

 

Rain falls in my yards

And I say that a drummer

Is drumming a drum

Leaves and fronds make music

And I say it is a swarm of bees

Just arrived to hum

 

Rain falls in my yards

And I say it is made of strings

Of transparent drops

The sky remains overcast for days

And I say barns will be full

With abundance of crops

 

 

ANIL KUMAR PANDA

ANN PRIVATEER

 

Free To Be

 

With some exceptions

If you sing all alone

Who besides you

Hears you

Is the desert your

Audience or your editor?

 

A Literary Palette

 

New criticism

In the parking lot

With Bell a Donna

And the horseman

Who wears a velvet coat

Very patriotic I must confess.

 

A Wall Of Wolves

 

Standing on the corner

Holding up a wall, possessing

Summer and the Banshies

Eating seafood, no dairy

No bread while urning

For a happy winter.

 

ANN PRIVATEER

 

ANN PRIVATEER is a poet, artist, and photographer. She lived in the Midwest and now resides in California. Her work has been published in various journals.

 

ANNA CZACHOROWSKA

 

Unfulfillment

 

You nourished

me with words

tailor-made to fit

Your narcissism

 

They looked

for shelter

between heaven and earth

 

Astray

in space time

they fell inertly

 

wounding

the stone floor

at the foot of the sanctuary

of my dreams

 

Your Thoughts Like Wild Stallions

 

Your thoughts

like Wild stallions

no longer

stay tethered

At time sthey snort

bounce off from the shore

clench their hooves

Intofists

 

I look at them

Through windows of rain

Arranie an image

from shattered pieces

 

Maybe overtime

I shall make them tamed

treat to a cube of salt

and then I shall leash them

like little dogs

take for an evening walk

along the paths of my fate

take for an evening walk

along the paths of your will

 

Love Is A Burning Forgetfulness

Of All Other Things

Victor Hugo

 

Love me

in heaven

and in hell

 

Love

in the sun

and in sudden pouring rain

 

Love

in Thoughts

Words

and Deeds

 

All signs

on earth

omit

 

ANNA CZACHOROWSKA

 

ANNA CZACHOROWSKA was born in Warsaw. She graduated from the Warsaw University. She is a member of Polish Writers’ Union, a member of the Board of Association for the Promotion of Polish Creative Output, a member of Polish Authors’ Association, a member of Movimiento Poetas del Mundo, and also a member of Slavic Academy of Literature and Arts in Bulgaria. She publishes eight books of poetry: I Was the Rose of Your Winter, Touching Happiness, Love Knockedat the Door, Before the Sun Descends the Slope,17 Ljóð, In the Anteroom of Dreams, In the Anteroom of Dreams– Polish-English edition, With an Outstretched Wing– Polish-English-Spanish. They were published in numerous Polish poetry anthologies and included in the Anthologies of Polish Authors’ Association. Her poems also appeared in international literary magazines, e.g. in AZAHAR literary magazine in Spain. Her works were translated in to Russian, English, Spanish, Bulgarian, Romanian, Belorussian, Slovak, Serbian, Italian, Greek, Telugu and in to Icelandic (a whole book: 17 Ljóð). In 2016 and 2017, Anna Czachorowska’s poems with Her biographical note were published in the Anthology of World Poets (Una Antologia Anual de Poetas del Mundo). In the years 2018-2021 her poems appeared in Anthologies which were the outcome of Poetry Festivals in Russia, Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia and India. In May 2011, she was awarded the Honorary Decoration for Merit to Polish Culture by the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage. In May 2017, she received Gloria Artis Bronze Medal from the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage. In October 2022, Anna Czachorowska received the Honorary Decoration of PolishWriters’ Union for distinguished service to this organization.

 

 

ANNA PACIOREK

 

Inner Prisoner

 

bound by the fate of existence

pinned to the ground

you go through life unprotected

like a tightrope walker above the waters of the ocean 

 

you're still looking

for free space to get it

and wings of freedom

to fly freely to heaven

 

hungry for crumbs of freedom

with feet rooted in the hard

plateau of earth

you won't fly away being a prisoner

of your own mind

 

when you see inside him

a prison with himself as a prisoner

and guard at the same time

open the rusted cell

let go of the guard and free the ego

and you will emerge from the cocoon "I"

- like a spring butterfly

The wide lava of existence outside and inside

and you will grow wings

 

you will stand as a completely free man

and you will start learning to fly

a man cannot accomplish this

while being an inner prisoner

 

Hoarfrost

.

without a declaration of war

without a single shot

without warning

the clatter of arms

I was killed inside(within) me

.

in a word

.

today a word has satanic power

it is a fratricidal weapon

and at the beginning the word

was truth and life

.

And it became flesh

that now kills hate

.

The apparatus of oppression multiplies everywhere

It grows and peers inside the person

and the weapon becomes more perfidious

the murderer accuses the victim

and walks in honor and glory

.

They receive orders

.

the sewage of words swims in a swift stream

hardly anyone pays it attention anymore

the teeth of empathy were knocked out

we have been conquered by fear

they mislead with false information

.

It’s easier to rule with fear

 

we have lost the azimuth of faith

we turned white

not because of purity

and innocence

but from cold indifference

.

hoarfrost covered consciences

 

Once

 

in a forgotten house

windows without eyelids

an empty cupboard

portraits

with lost smiles

and fading colors

 

only the shadows cuddle

running along the walls

revive(resurrect) memories

 

that once

someone loved

someone here

 

ANNA PACIOREK

 

ANNA PACIOREK, born in Wrocław, Mazovia, professionally: until 2022, she was a freelance auditor and still serves as a court expert at the District Court in Wrocław. Privately: wife, mother, grandmother. Hobbies: she is a poet and cultural animator. She has been writing poetry since 2001. In 2012, she started working as a cultural animator. She organized over 70 collective poetry and music meetings, mainly "Herbertiady" (An evening in memory of Herbert), "Poetyckie spotkania z Anną" (Poetic Meetings with Anna), and recently, in cooperation with Barbara Rejek, "Stachuriady" (An evening in memory of Stachura). She also takes an active part in Charity Concerts. She published eight volumes: in 2002, a poetic sheet (No. 1, II of the bibliophile series "ARS POETICA") entitled " Życie jest chwilą" (Life is a Moment), in 2006, "Kino Powidok" (The kino with the view), in 2008, "Zaczęło się w raju" (It began in paradise), in 2013, "Zamknięte otwarte" (Closed open), in 2016 "Cieniem wiatru zapisane" (Written in the shadow of the wind), in 2017 r. "Tam, gdzie cisza śpiewa" (Where silence sings), in 2018 "Na imię mam Dafne" (My name is Daphne), in 2022 "W drodze przez manowce" (On the way through astray), in 2022, a book dedicated to Edward Stachura on his 85th birthday. In addition, her works are included in 36 anthologies, including two edited by the author. She is a member of: Association of Artists and Animators of Culture in Wrocław (2003, in which she is the Chairperson of the Audit Committee), JP II Polish American Poets Academy in Wallington (NJ 2004), Polish Poets Association in the name of Zbigniew Herbert in Lublin (2005), where until recently she was the Vice-President, the Association of Polish Authors (Wrocław) and several online Literary Clubs, including: RUBIKON, Poetów Niepokorne (Defiant Poets), and Kształty Słów (Shapes of Words), with which she collaborated from 2003 to 2022 as one of the Administrators. In 1998, she was awarded the Silver Cross of Merit. In 2013, she was entered into the Polish version of the Who is Who lexicon. She also has professional awards.