Eva Petropoulou interviews Maria Miraglia

Middle aged European woman speaks at a lectern into a microphone. Bookshelves behind her. She's wearing a dressy blue top and earrings and has brown hair.
Maria Miraglia

Maria Miraglia is a poet, essayist, translator, and peace activist. Her commitment to human rights and peace activism is evident in her long-standing memberships in Amnesty International, Ican, and the International Observatory for Human Rights. She is Vice President of the World Movement for the Defense of Children) – Kenya and the founder of the World Peace Foundation.


Dr. Miraglia’s influence on contemporary literature is significant. As a cosmopolitan Italian writer, her academic curriculum is impressive, placing her among the stars of the literary world. She is a founding member and Literary Director of the Pablo Neruda Association and a member of several editorial boards of international literary magazines;


Member of the International Writers Association; Member of the International Academy Mihai Eminescu; Honorary Member of United Nations of Letters; Poet Laureate 2018, WNWU; and World Poet Laureate and Golden Medal 2020 – Xi’an, China;
Miraglia writes in Italian, English, or both languages. Her poems have been translated into over thirty languages and are prominent in over one hundred anthologies worldwide.


Miraglia is a writer with considerable skills. She has an exquisite imagination; her style is lucid, transparent in thought, philosophical and meaningful in substance. She can skillfully intertwine emotions and creativity, philosophy, logic and reason, giving her poems an air of new beauty. She expresses her broad humanity, magnanimity, aesthetic abilities, delicate sensitivity and concern for global peace and harmony. Her originality makes her a truly brilliant writer.

Dr Miraglia Maria Antonietta
Literary Director of P. Neruda
Founder President of WFP.
Member of the European Academy of Science and Arts- Salzburg

………

Interview conducted by

Eva Petropoulou Lianou 

Please share your thoughts about the future of literature.

Literature has always held fundamental importance in developing societies, and it seems right to recognise poetry’s merit as the first means of spreading knowledge when writing did not yet exist. With the advent of printing, access to culture became more manageable, but even today, masses of individuals are not granted this privilege. Culture is the only tool that can facilitate social mobility, improve economic conditions, and provide a better quality of life. However, in many areas of the world, young people are not even given access to basic education. This is especially true for women, who remain subjected to a slavery that is not only economic but also intellectual, depriving them of individual choices.

The Good and the Bad. Who is winning nowadays?

I was born in a Catholic country where the belief in an individual’s struggle between good and evil has always been present. Beyond Catholic thought, historical facts tell us of a world in which struggles have prevailed, a world in which wars have continually devastated entire countries and created tears and death. And even today, the media inundates us with news of the same type that sometimes makes hope difficult. This does not mean that we should give up, on the contrary, we should increasingly commit our forces so that men can live in harmony so that the idea of justice does not remain in the pages of the codes, and there is a better distribution of wealth.

For this to happen, everyone must be allowed compulsory education without gender distinction. Only knowledge can help people make better choices in every social sector. I want to address a cry for help to intellectuals so that they become champions of a rebirth of consciences. It is easy to make the responsibility of conducting public welfare fall on the people in power. We must also ask ourselves who put them in that position and why. The masses have tremendous power that they may not realize.

How many books have you written, and when can we find your books?

Twenty-one of my poetry anthologies have been published, mainly in Italian and English but also in Arabic, Telugu, Hindi, and many other languages. I have enjoyed translating some of the most appreciated contemporary authors. My poems are also in over one hundred anthologies in various Italian and international magazines and have been translated into over thirty languages.

My books can be found on Amazon.

The book. E-book or hard book. What will be the future? 

I wish for any form of diffusion of books, even though I prefer the paper form. I can read and reread a text, mark it, and consider it a personal object to take and take again over time.

A Wish for 2025

I am a woman of peace. Some international organisations have kindly wanted to give me the honour of being an ambassador of peace. It is in this role that last year I presented, together with a group of various authors, in the council hall of the municipalities of Assisi, a city universally recognised as a centre of peace, the book “Give Me Peace – Anicia Editore.” Peace and harmony between peoples require education in welcoming and accepting diversity, yet schools in all countries forget education in goodness and beauty. Young people are induced to compete, not collaborate, which is one of the attitudes we should work on.

A phrase from your book

…………..

women and men on earth  

in holy silence

for the massacre and horror

could sense the fear

of the little martyrs

of the human foolishness

hear their cries

imaging the violated bodies

the tears of their mothers

their eternal mourning

From Martyrs of Human Foolishness  – Coloured Butterflies

Light-skinned middle aged woman with green eyes, pink lipstick, a gray sequined cap, and a green sweater. Stone wall is behind her.

Poetry from Don Bormon

South Asian teen boy with short black hair, brown eyes, and a white collared school uniform with a decal.

Gaza, the Land of Resilience

Oh Gaza, cradle of ancient cries,

Beneath your sky where sorrow lies.

Your streets bear tales of courage untold,

A city of fire, steadfast and bold.

The winds hum songs of a broken dream,

Yet your spirit shines in every gleam.

Through shattered homes and fractured land,

You rise again with a steady hand.

The olive trees whisper their lore,

Of days of peace they once bore.

Now, roots hold firm in the scarred terrain,

A symbol of hope amidst the pain.

Don Bormon is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Short story from Bill Tope

How Many?

I’m suddenly frightened, scared to death, actually. I feel a little dizzy and breathless. I crack open another beer, in order to forget what might be facing me. I’m losing my memory and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It was subtle at first: what singer sang Fast Car, a tune that was popular more than 30 years ago? Try as I might, I couldn’t recall. It’s not like my short-term memory is evaporating, which is an early indication of Alzheimers. And it’s not like I can’t remember what day it is or the name of the president. Those were the questions the neurologist asked my dad when he was diagnosed at age 80, more than 20 years before. So what am I worried about? On the other hand, all my mom and dad’s brothers and sisters suffered profound dementia prior to their deaths.

As I drink my beer, I wonder: how many beers have I already had? I can’t remember. And have I eaten? Did I take my medicine yet? What is the name of that singer? Next I try to retrive a document on my PC, but I get confused; I forget how to do it! Dammit!

Dad was just 10 years older than I am now when his memory began to fail. Today when I was out and about, people stared at me as if they didn’t know what I was talking about, as if I’d said something which didn’t compute, didn’t make sense. Instantly, I forgot what I’d just said. Did I say something to upset that young female cashier? Did me mistake me for some kind of masher? Do they even use that expression anymore? God, I’m old!

Back home again, I stride into the next room with purpose, only to discover that I didn’t know why I’ve come. And I don’t even remember coming back home. I open another beer; this makes…how many? 

Essay from Dr. Jernail Anand Singh

Older South Asian man with a beard, a deep burgundy turban, coat and suit and reading glasses and red bowtie seated in a chair.
Dr. Jernail S. Anand

UNPOETIC THOUGHTS

[Saying anything and getting caught is not a  literary virtue, it is an unliterary activity. The best in literature are things which spin the words and images round and round and the reader has to shoot an arrow into the eye of the floating fish, looking at its image in the water. [Draupadi’s Swaymbara] ]

Dr Jernail Singh Anand

Broken lines which carry sophisticated ideas are not poetry, unless they evoke emotions which blend disparate elements of experience into a unified whole. The final feeling should not be of a broken experience, but a unified entity, whispering to the soul. If the poet does not whisper to the soul, it lacks in essentialities.

When we talk of a common subject like love, on an extensive scale, is the broken heart of a poet so important to the world? Is it important to tell the world how it was broken and where its splinters are lying? Does the world expect such lavish wastefulness from the poet? If poets are irrelevant to the world today, it is precisely because they sing of their personal sorrow, and sing too much, which fails to connect with the mass mind.

Metaphor as a smoke-screen

Is it important to postpone finally saying something and trying to find metaphors, so that abstract images could say, what the poet is so scared to say in plain words? A metaphor is not always an adornment. In these politicis-ridden times, most of the times it is used as a smoke screen.  

A poem’s message is like a needle to be found in a chaff store. The poet talks loosely about clouds, flowers, rivers, oceans, moon. – good images, and sometimes soothing too, but the message… Oh, I am sorry, does the poet have any message to convey? Or just to fiddle with words, images and enjoy and make the reader enjoy his word patterns, which have expertise in not saying anything.  Saying anything and getting caught is not a  literary virtue, it is an unliterary activity. The best in literature are things which spin the words and images round and round and the reader has to shoot an arrow into the eye of the floating fish, looking at its image in the water. [Draupadi’s Swaymbara]

So difficult it is to find the meaning of a poem. And finally, if the reader says, “the poet says this” agains there are eyebrows. It is not the poet, it is the poem that says something. So, the text says, the poem says, … this is the fad. The poet has nothing to say. He only put some words together. Forged some images. Which are now lying before you. Try to read into them and say what you find them say.

A post-modern reading of Paradise Lost can be rewarding.  Let us forget what Milton has to say about “to justify the ways of God to man”.. The invocation becomes absolutely irrelevant in which he invokes the Muse to let him sing of the disobedience of man which brought death in the world. How can Milton dare to utter these words? It is all irrelevant. Leave invocation. Let us move straight into the text.

Love for the Workshop

If text is our focus, we can go beyond Milton. The message has no significance. What is important is the text, and using the text, bring a staircase, stepping down into its interior, let us move in the dark chambers of Milton’s mind.  What he says, has no relevance. What he did not say, is important. Move in.

Everyone who enters this talisman finds something different and challenging. So, that is our study of poetry. Finally to put out a broken spectacle because, a verse, if we take the words to enter into the poets mind, will take us into a factory area where tools are lying scattered. Are we interested in the workshop or the finished product? I think entering a sweet seller’s pantry cannot be a rewarding experience. Better to enjoy the sight of the silver-covered sweets, and still better, to taste a few of them, and praise the sweet maker, rather than de-kneading the flour and sugar that went into it and following them from which mill the flour came and from which factory, the sugar came.

Bio:

Dr Jernail Singh Anand, President of the International Academy of Ethics, is author of 170 books in English poetry, fiction, non-fiction, philosophy and spirituality. He was recently awarded Seneca Award by the Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences Bari. [Italy -19/10/2024]. He also won Charter of Morava, the great Award by Serbian Writers Association, Belgrade and his name was engraved on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was awarded Doctor of Philosophy [Honoris Causa] by the University of Engg and Management, Jaipur. Recently, he organized an International Conference on Culture, Values and Ethics at Pune.  His most phenomenal books are Lustus:The Prince of Darkness [first epic of the Mahkaal Trilogy]. And Philosophia  de Anand, a work of philosophy which has under one roof, ten of his philosophical works. [Email: anandjs55@yahoo.com Mobile: 919876652401[Whatsapp] [ethicsacademy.co.in]

Link Bibliography:

https://atunispoetry.com/2023/12/08/indian-author-dr-jernail-s-anand-honoured-at-the-60th-belgrade-international-meeting-of-writers/

https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home

Poetry from Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa

Light skinned Filipina woman with reddish hair, a green and yellow necklace, and a floral pink and yellow and green blouse.
Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa

Time

Little girl, why the sad pout

What is there to worry about

Life may slide from North to South

And cries be held tight in your mouth

But time flies quickly from East to West

Clock ticking continuously without rest

Soon you will be leaving your nest

To face challenges of nature’s test.

Release all the burdens of your heart

Painful though it is, let go of the hurt

Waste not every breathe, for it is short

Learn and live fullest, of all that it’s worth.

Faith

What is Faith?

A belief that goes beyond what senses perceive

A belief that goes beyond what our instincts gives

A belief that goes beyond confusions that deceives

Yet, is Faith enough?

To accept the time to be born and die

To accept that fate and faith is but one

To accept a predestined destiny is done

To accept that a path is an inflexible sky

Then why is there Life?

Should life be spent by being immobile

Should one sit, silently wait in self exile

Should one watch others the world defile

As hunger, anger, greed and violence pile

Then why is there Free Will?

A choice to leash or let go one’s desire

A choice to create or destroy with fire

A choice to reject or sing along with choir

A choice to lead or be led by thorny wire

What is Faith?

Is Faith a strength to empower an action

Is Faith a comfort for failure’s depression

Is Faith a guide to worthwhile destination

Is Faith a motivation to lead one’s passion

What is the benefit of Faith in one’s belief?

What is the benefit of Faith in acceptance?

What is the benefit of Faith in one’s choice?

What is the benefit of Faith in one’s life?

With Faith, there is Trust,

Yet Trust with Wisdom,

Wisdom with Humility,

Humility with Confidence,

Confidence with Compassion.

Faith must not be blind,

For a Blind Faith is a Dead Faith;

Faith must be Alive with Free will,

Freewill needs to make wise Choices.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

Music from Dario

This composition started when I saw a documentary on New Orleans. I have never been there so I’ve always been fascinated by its culture and its history. And after watching the documentary, I kind of envisioned myself living there, the cast of characters I would run into, and the underbelly of New Orleans, but also the music and the uniqueness of the place, and that’s how I wrote Saint Street.

I brought in a 12-string and a mandolin just to give the music a colorful different texture, and that reminds me of New Orleans as well.