Adelaide Literary Magazine No.9. Volume II, September 2017

My Notebook About the Author:

Possible Poem: Charles Dutka is a poet and writer who lives and
works in Connecticut. He is currently assembling
Bayou swamp - harmonica his first collection, Temporarily Fatal. His work has
(in the distance) appeared in Dark Matter, Melancholy Hyperbole
and The People's Ink Typehouse Magazine.
Peep frogs - Spanish Charles has been writing daily since high school
moss. On the porch and enjoys drawing inspiration from his job as the
Operations Manager for a local health food store.
wooden shack. You can see more of his work at his website:
Night. Stars & Crickets www.charlesdutka.com

Smoldering
cigarette

A lonely howl,
coyote

wolf?

Untitled 2

my coat’s huddling
round the air inside it hang

ing
from the hanger on my coat

rack.

199

ROMANCE OF
THE MASK

by Frederick Pollack

Kin

By the late seventeenth century he is
at least possible, crying “Bring out
your dead” and breaking into
houses where the distinction
is moot; where the doctors
with great beaked masks full of posies
have been and gone or never came; where
the floor is rife with ichor and the air
with odors he no longer notices,
except the sweet distinctive one
of plague; where he orders
his boys to hoist and bind
to the overladen cart the once-
fat shitbag, the rag-doll girl,
the mother slumped in the last poor soup
(which luckily doused
the fire) – “Mind you don’t slip
in the slop,” he says, and they laugh,
like machines; all pockets theirs,
all purses his, all silver and gold
the king’s, but the king won’t miss
this single taper; he’s also
welcome, His Majesty is, to
that crucifix and to believing
there’s a point to all this.

200

Elitist Recalls

The girlfriend of a friend (they had met
in AA) moved in with him;
I took her apartment. A step up
from the slums! It overlooked
a small city park. Once I’d unpacked,
I sat in my one extravagance, an Eames chair.
It was two AM. Peace, a new start

were possible. Then from below,
singing, a bottle breaking, a quarrel,
perhaps with a real person. Not just
the voice but the whole aural ambience
was of that era – rancid hippie,
or lumpen no longer able to cloak
his sores in a Movement. I listened awhile
to him and Schubert, then was smart
and tense enough to turn off all

but one small lamp before I raised
a window and yelled, “Please be quiet!”
Years (not necessarily
many, but impacted)
of hatred returned fire for some time.
I looked around my darkened new apartment,
disregarding books and LPs
and the few meagre bits
of art I’d collected. The door
to the external staircase had glass panes
and the quaint lace she’d left. There were too many
windows. I went to the kitchen for a knife
(eventually we’ll all be reduced to knives)
and stood and waited. Presumably at that moment
I could have become a conservative,
but pride and a sort of vision intervened.
(He went away; I ignored his successors,
and was only robbed once.)
That thing outside would become obsolete, impossible,
strangled in pity. My tastes, I myself, were a value,
worth fighting for, worth standing in the dark
afraid. And paranoia became destiny.

201

Romance of the Mask

Because few now own masks,
half-masks, or dominos,
tactful functionaries
distribute them at the door.
The new guest has no time
to admire his or hers; must put it on
to enter the spreading fan of sumptuous rooms
where waiters serve an airy bubbly.
Beneath the gilded vaults
and chandeliers rise towers, arcs,
of fingerfood, arranged to preclude crowding.
Now strings and winds and brass
proclaim themselves, and guests who have only danced
the lonely modern way
(dogs shaking themselves) are strongly
moved to find partners. Each
piquant, expressive mask
redoubles – one feels certain –
or counterpoints what lies within. Tuxes and gowns
(but how did one afford such beauty?)
confirm both one’s belonging and
advantage. Feet move magically,
waists warmly yield. And even when
one’s empty glass is swept
onto a tray by floating servants
who never collide with the dancers, all voices
sound to both speakers and hearers
as awesome as their wit.

Between the grandes chambres
lie passages and alcoves whose
erotic charge is less,
where comfortably sullen groups
play cards. Or more –
but the French doors can be locked and curtained,
while clever mechanisms
block pheromones and sounds.
In one of these small rooms,

202

a few recondite masks
gather by chance, and find they can’t call out.
The curves of one, concave and grey
as the visage of Quixote, offset
its wearer’s girth. “No one would dance,”
the man says. “I suppose I should have waited
for my mask to complete the process
of redemption I was everywhere observing.
But I saw it in my drink,
and was struck – though I’m normally relentlessly
upbeat – by its justice.
This mask, however, is not my soul.
My soul is the discrepancy.”
Another, all fangs and glare, speaks
with the weary objectivity that can follow
complaint. “I saw mine in a mirror
and hoped for a moment it would kiss me.
Then I told myself, How unfair.
Though I work for an oil company,
I have nothing to do with the very
top people – they’re all men – or their decisions,
and everyone likes me; this shouldn’t – ”
An artist (he declares himself as such)
expounds without encouragement
his most minor intuitions
and shows. One senses
an element of self-parody; his mask
is chubby, mean, the perfect philistine.
And one who tried longer
than the rest to make calls
has his head in his hands. The others see there’s nothing
between them; he has somehow torn
it off, and they gaze with a mixture
of horror and pity, pity outweighing horror,
which is actually quite rare and will
remain so till we have faces.

203

Romance of the Form

It’s one of those bureaucratic things
you can’t do online; to avoid lines,
go early. There you find the wait is short,
the lighting less than awful,
and soon you’re presenting your documents.
A poster: Kafka’s face
(the opposite of a hypnotist,
he knew you’d never look into his eyes),
circled in red with a red diagonal,
over pledges of transparency and service.
The girl across the counter (nametag ATHENA)
is to die for,
but her dark and classic features
suggest melancholy. Which –
as you turn the pages of the form,
write your initials, find papers – you also
notice in the postures of her colleagues.
“What’s wrong? Something is … forgive me for prying.”
“Oh, it’s just we’ve worked so hard
to increase client satisfaction – see the new lighting?
But this administration
only wants privatization.
We’ll be gone in a month, some company’s taking over.”
“That’s awful,” you say, with the emotion
one feels around a girl about to cry.
(She doesn’t.) “What will you do?” “I’ll have to
go back to Montana and shear sheep
with my father. The others … ”
Your anger grows. “And you’ll all be replaced by machines,
and the rates and fees will skyrocket
in the name of savings and efficiency.”
“It’s worse than that,” says a supervisor
who has been slowly approaching
behind the counter, rallying rather than browbeating
her troops, and who now stops by Athena.
MARY (thus her nametag),
middle-aged, plainly dressed,
projects brains and motherliness.

204

She remarks how it appears there’s
no public any more, no public interest;
there are only stakeholders
and who counts as one is decided by
the rich. You feel you could talk with her,
unhurried, until
a now socioeconomic order
dawned; and her presence seems to hearten
Athena. But by now having reached
the last page of the form, you sign your name, fish out
your Mastercard. The fee
is exorbitant, unprecedented,
but vaguely you think
it will help them, the girl, the woman … Later
you do some checking. Insofar
as data is available, you learn
that place was privatized the month before.

About the Author:
Frederick Pollack is the author of two book-length narrative poems, THE ADVENTURE and HAPPINESS,
both published by Story Line Press. A collection of shorter poems, A POVERTY OF WORDS, 2015 from
Prolific Press. Another collection, LANDSCAPE WITH MUTANT, to be published by Smokestack Books
(UK), 2018. Has appeared in Hudson Review, Salmagundi, Poetry Salzburg Review, Die Gazette (Munich),
The Fish Anthology (Ireland), Representations, Magma (UK), Iota (UK), Bateau, Main Street Rag, Man-
hattan Review, etc. Online, poems have appeared in Big Bridge, Allegro, Hamilton Stone Review, Dia-
gram, BlazeVox, The New Hampshire Review, Mudlark, Occupoetry, Faircloth Review, Triggerfish, Thun-
derdome, Neglected Ratio, etc.

205

INDIAN POINT

Jack Brown

After planting purple spider wort On the way to Indian Point
around the tombstone of the old soldier we enter a tunnel.
in the cemetery at the end of the road A canopy of White Oak and Maple
we scuttle from ridge to ridge. above.
A country Doc Limestone, poison ivy and rattlesnakes,
and a visitor from New York. “The gentleman
he always warns you before he strikes”
May Apple reflects the sun below.
like a satin mandala.
A little cedar dodging the bushwhacker Picking our way across glabrous stones
snuggles against a lone walnut tree marking three indian graves
in the meadow. we ascend an outcropping
Passed the pond quick with Koi, higher than an eagle's nest.
by the abandoned peach orchard, Overlooking the Kentucky River.
the capstone of the well “When you're talking about Kentucky
bears fossils you're pretty much talking about Daniel Boone.
of creatures with wings Two hundred acres of prime bottom land
and creatures with fins. ripen on the other side. Beyond six or seven miles
as the crow flies, Station Creek. Site of Daniel Boone's
We linger under base camp before he pushed West.
the exalted blue sky.
“If you don't know it
when you see it
you don't know it.”

206

The Cat Came Back

Absorbed in weeding the morning glories
I never sensed his approach.
How long did he sit observing
until desire for contact
outstripped patience and curiosity?
A hunt not for kill but kindness.
In benevolent exasperation he called
“Hey it's me.”
The urgent familiarity jerked my head up.
“Oh it's you.”
Absent nearly nine months from his perch
I had wondered it his staunch cat spirit
was among those come and gone
spanning these mortal days and spectral nights.

I stepped onto the brick planter
at the base of the wall.
Then this cat, wearing
a tuxedo leaned into my hands
trusting I would balance his ardor
and joy would prevent his fall.

Born in the urban backyard
he warmed his bones
that rookie winter
by the heat of the iron chimney,
strapped to the flank of the building.
Pointing to the sky.

I remembered him
as Lord of the Fire Escapes
flying up and down
learning the secrets of his world
fleet sure footed and lean,
cadging handouts
and cultivating wary relationships.
His own animate shadow during the day.
Cutting lazer eyed through the night.

207

The Cat Came Back (2) About the Author:

After feeding this feline Jack Brown. Poet, songwriter & activist. Lives in
I lured him with chicken New York City.
to a trap. Then sent him
on his way. He returned
from the outside
to prosper but not to propagate.

In time
with his desperation cooled
someone took him in.
His visits, less frequent,
assumed the insouciance
of a padrone's leisurely stroll.
His coat was luxuriant.
His heft evinced comfort.

This visit may have been an escape.
But the cat came back.
And like old times,
when I turned to go,
he reached out with a feral strike
and pinned my foot with his claws.

Instinctively I motioned
“Come on. Come on.”

208

YOUR
SUNDAY BEST

Scott Laudati

Your Sunday Best

i can see girls at barstools
ready again to push their doubts
down past the breakers,
past spilled pints and men
that wouldn’t carry them on their backs
like their fathers.
there are cities and towns all over
america filled up with families
saying grace and eating dinner.
and no one knows
why we shake hands
and leave mass promising to be good
to each other.
you can trace the line up the tree
but the sidewalk splits once you walk through the door.
everyone surrenders
and the cars drive home.
a black flag flies where america once
stood.
there are killing fields in the backyards
full of fresh wounds and broken hearts
and around here
we all look the same

209

what’s enough? it’ll fade off like a memory
that started out so vivid
it ends just like it begins, but years later the details
with us not touching become impossible to define.
not talking what else could it be?
not friends. i guess with all this emptiness there’s always
i would’ve stayed unhappy with you a little space left to fill up.
for a lifetime isn’t that good enough?
but how many futures
can be built on yesterday About the Author:
and can we even fight this familiar hell Scott Laudati lives in Harlem. He is the author of
if it’s better than lonely? Play The Devil (novel) and Hawaiian Shirts In The
you told me it can be like Electric Chair (poetry). He hopes to one day quit
all those mornings before this submitting and build a giant instagram legacy and
but you forgot i wake up maybe get regrammed by Khloe Kardashian! Visit
earlier than you,
i can see that your heart
doesn’t beat for me
anymore.
and if these brains and hearts
don’t ever align
maybe the point is
to destroy,
if love never means
the same thing to anyone
where did we think this would end?
all that truth and rose’
and promises we made,
the luck finally gives up
but the feelings never do.
lets go on one last date.
follow me past the boardwalk
to the rocky shore
and bring that typewriter
you bought at the brooklyn street fair.
we can put our hearts on paper
and stuff them in a bottle,
throw it at the seagulls
and watch it recede in the endless tide.

210

Buffalo Bones pull out the old box of maps
from under your bed.
an unsmoked cigarette you get your revolver loaded and pick a direction,
burns for thirteen minutes a spot on the map you’ve never been before.
without a drag, hitchhike to the Dakotas
and since you’re all grown up now where the weather’s colder.
there must be a wedding day. where strangers with no faces
the town will throw you a parade, stand over your shoulders
rope off the streets where tanks counting pages in your notebook.
have rolled the wolves run free,
and teenagers did the Hokey Pokey no swings in the park.
after sunday mass. maybe the buffalo jumped the cliff for fun,
they’ll re-introduce you to the left their bleached white skulls in the pits
man who baptized you, looking up.
he says the “our father” often they’re hidden until the thaw.
but he doesn’t that’s when you’ll find them grinning
look familiar with the spring bloom.
don’t worry,
the blimp banner clocks the national debt eventually we all shiver in the sun
but nothing about all the i.o.u.’s
for last months rent,
or how fast cigarettes burn
as you sit around counting hours.
an arc of time is never real until
your lover pulls the joker,
you're all in, full ante,
and one hand later
the game is over.
you knew it then.
they lied to you but that’s ok.
it just hurts real bad
when the rules change
and your professors
still want the homework.
maybe santa will pay the late fees
if you say grace every day of lent

211

WHAT WAS
THAT CITY

Mary Crow

WHAT WAS THAT CITY

―after Cavafy

What city tangled me in its sandy roots,
led me into desert, where I gasped

at vastness and vacancy, pyramids fringing
miles of nothing growing, a void

I vanished into, as imagination gave way
to reality starred with sand, endless beach
where I lost patience with boredom,
with ruins inside me, unforgiving sand.
All along the river, ruined temples languished, doors
pouring out a sand-story, above a thousand buried
sphinxes—how small human life appeared,
where sky tired of light, where dark seemed to glow
with death’s glaring ink, where distant sand lay
like frosted glass, an endless depiction of repetition.
I meant travel to set me free, to teach me wisdom,
how to bear pain without complaint, to decipher sand patterns.
Instead, that city revealed a hissing, insinuating
resistance along the Nile where revenge flung words
like glass shards between sand barricades—
beyond sand, no end of light. Sky was years ago.

212

DEAD SEA

A tiny fragment of wood
probably from a tree carried here
by the Flood and buried in layers
of mud and salt from a time
when this lake had another shore
before the learned Claudius wrote
his history of the Etruscans
in twenty volumes, now lost,
and before I offended you
when I undertook my tour of the horizon,
my class in mudslide survival,
a tutorial in compromise which I failed.
You still wouldn't speak after I apologized
even though I couldn't remember what I'd done:
The dike with my finger held.

FAINT ECHO OF A MAHLER SYMPHONY
DRIFTS FROM A NEIGHBOR’S WINDOW

I can hear the sounds a piano’s notes intend,
meaning in a noise that leans so hard
on the exceptional, then dazzles
the sea’s flat pond with light.
This time of day I listen to surf, that net
of syllables without meaning that troubles
the abstract—leaking too little of the everyday.

How vast dusk is as it arrives to this terrace
in Progreso, seaweed-strewn sand, muted grays,
blues, tans of any seaside dusk. How far removed
from the dingy town, its trash-lined streets
that lead here to this house with great glass vistas,
curving staircase up to a bedroom where my lover’s
muscles form a cord ladder I like to climb.

213

ALMOST AN ISLAND

One night I glimpsed a fiery sphere
in you, a core longing to be expressed.
You distilled a set of words,
and in my vision your words rang—
how was I to translate?
You spoke as if above the world,
but you were in it, sunk into its very marrow,
transparent and dizzying.
As space entered your voice,
I glimpsed a teeming sea.
Daybreak gathered all its syllables,
horses with manes that rushed across
my hearing as if I balanced on a rocking boat.
I watched a sunrise shimmer
in the blue stir of distances.
If I send you
masks with eggs in their beaks,
foreheads where roots crackle,
or eyes that bulge like planets,
could you make me tremble yet again?

About the Author:
Mary Crow’s poems have been published in or forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Hotel Amerika,
New Madrid, The American Journal of Poetry, Poet Lore, Illumintions, and other literary magazines.

214

215

AN AFTERNOON WITH

RAYMOND FENECH

A Writer, Journalist, Publicist, and Educator

"Perseverance against all odds. Don’t rush into trying to be published and whatever
you do remember that there are no shortcuts to being a real published author.
Creating a blog, or a web site and publishing one’s work on these does not make you a
published author - it only makes you a self-proclaimed writer. Publishing comes with
hard work and the greatest satisfaction is when you have competed with other
writers, you have been rejected hundreds of times and you keep pursuing your dream
until you succeed."

216

ALM: Tell us a bit about yourself, about Ray- changed my jobs 18 times throughout my working
mond Fenech, journalist, writer, a poet. How career.
would you introduce yourself in seven sentenc-
es, one for each decade of your life and one for Whilst I was a journalist, I had continued strug-
next thirty years. gling to market my work abroad and because
there were no computers then, submissions re-
RF: It’s quite impossible because my life as a writ- quired a lot more time to prepare and needed self
er is all connected and very complicated. It start- -addressed envelopes and IRCs if I wanted the
ed on a professional basis when I was a teenager. editor to send me a reply. I spent hours reading
The first decade was all about working as a free- through poetry market directories in the hope of
lance reporter with my very first exclusive inter- finding publications suitable for my work, each
view with George Mitchell, director of The Black week sending dozens of envelopes which cost me
and White Minstrels Show published in a local a small fortune.
English political newspaper, The Democrat when I
was 18. Within 2 years, I found myself working as Acceptances were few, but each one was like win-
a full-time journalist with the English leading ning a lottery and when these were from antholo-
newspapers, The Times and Sunday Times of Mal- gy publishers, it felt even better. When I started
ta. I feel it’s important to note, I am a self-taught to enroll for creative writing courses in the early
writer because in Malta, way back in the early 90s, things started to look up as my writing be-
70s, writing and journalism weren’t even consid- came better and better. I have always been my
ered a profession – so I learned the trade mostly own worse self-critic and editing my work, even
by trial and error. Later, I enrolled for my first one single poem, sometimes would take 40 re-
diploma course in journalism with The London writes before I can consider the work as accepta-
Educational Association, UK. This period covered ble and ready for submission.
almost the first decade of my writing career.
When I look back, I sometimes wonder how I sur- Then came the first serious opportunity of pub-
vived working for over seven years under the lishing my research on Maltese ghosts in The In-
Mintoffian Regime, or as journalists described it ternational Directory of the Most Haunted Places
at the time, ‘The Reign of Terror’, when Malta’s by Penguin Books, USA, and other publishing op-
democracy and freedom of speech were at risk of portunities basically in every genre of writing. In
being wiped out and journalists working for Dem- 1999 this was followed by my editorial appoint-
ocratic opposition newspapers risked all sorts of ments with two nation-wide distributed maga-
physical and mental abuse. Six months before I zines, until my career was cut short by cancer in
joined The Times of Malta, its offices had been 2004. During the long nine months of chemother-
attacked by a group of the Mintoffian Regime’s apy treatment I was physically incapacitated but
thugs and gutted by fire. The attack was the first not my brain, so I decided to enroll for my bache-
of many others including on the Law Courts, the lor’s degree in creative writing and then went on
Archbishop’s Curia, and the Nationalist Party to read for a PhD. During the same period, I was
leader of the opposition’s private home. also awarded a scholarship in poetry therapy by
none other than Prof Sherry Reiter, the foundress
After, my journalistic experience, I felt I wanted to director herself of The Creative ‘Righting’ Cen-
use my creative imagination and writing capabili- tre, at Touro College, Hofstra University in New
ties a bit more, so I decided to look for a job in PR, York.
Copywriting and advertising, a period from which
I never looked back. I continued to work in this ALM: Do you remember what was your first ever
field until 2004 when I was diagnosed with Hodg- poem about and when did you write it?
kin’s Lymphoma. After my miraculous recovery
finding another job was not even an option be- RF: Yes, of course I do. I was 12 and had fallen in
cause cancer survivors have a stigma on them love with an English girl, cousin of one of my
that says, especially to prospective employers: neighbors whose name was Shirley Ann. I still
‘You are going to die soon’ so I set up my own have a photo of her. The poem’s title was, To
little business, RF Copywriting and PR Services. I Shirley Ann. She came over to holiday in Malta for
a few years and used to stay with her aunt and

217

uncle who lived right next door to us. We contin- Always with a book.
ued to correspond for many years, through snail As a young journalist working for
mail of course. The Times and Sunday Times of Malta

ALM: You told once that the poetry is your favor- "...poetry is much more difficult to
ite literary genre. Why do you write poetry? write than prose. Every word has to
Why is poetry a literary form of your choice and be carefully chosen because good
how different is it from writing prose? poems should represent the essence
of a story, or a saga without the
RF: I guess, the love of poetry writing was instilled need for over writing, losing oneself
in me from early childhood hearing my mother in unnecessary adjectives..."
reciting nursery rhymes before sleeping every
night. The rhyme, rhythm and musicality fascinat-
ed me. But then, I went on to school and college,
where I was introduced to my favourite poet,
John Keats. At secondary school, I had a queer
looking teacher in my fourth grade, whose name
was Mr Borg. He was a bachelor. He needn’t have
told anyone that he was a teacher, a literary fa-
natic and a book worm because it was incredibly
reflected in his personality. He was a fantastic
person and excellent tutor and was one of the
persons who continued to instill the love for poet-
ry in me, especially in Keats’ works. I read every-
thing there was to read about this incredible writ-
er, who I also believed would have been greater
than Shakespeare, had he lived longer. Keats is
not only my favourite poet, but my hero. He was
very capable of using his fists as much as his pen
and now more than ever, I appreciate the brave
battle he put up against consumption, finally suc-
cumbing to it with great dignity at 26. Besides
Keats, I loved other classics, like Byron, Tennyson,
Shelley, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Robert Browning,
William Blake, Jane Austin, Samuel Coleridge,
Edgar Alan Poe and so many others.

When I finished school, Mr Borg continued to
follow my career with great interest and even
edited some of my poems. I even remember one
particular poem he edited: it was called, The Si-
lent City. Once, when I was working as a reporter
at The Times of Malta, we were informed there
had been a burglary in a house in Birkirkara. I
went to investigate and unfortunately it turned
out to be his house where he lived with his sister.
At first, he was reluctant to speak about the trau-
matic experience, but then knowing all his family
jewellery had been stolen, I persuaded him to
give me a detailed description of the major items
that were stolen, so I could publish in the news-
paper. This would not only help the police to find
them, but prevent the people from buying them

218

from the thieves. Whilst I was at his house, he though I like it not too literary; but the tones of
took me to see his study and it was exactly as I voice must be caught fresh and fresh from
had imagined it, a mini library with hundreds of life. Writing prose is easier, if you can bring your
books. He even revealed his little secret that he characters to life and if you can give them a hu-
actually also composed music. I never saw him man personality readers can hate or love. Every
again after that visit and only a few years ago, I story requires a good plot, but every narrative if
heard he passed away in the same house where I based on the truth will not really require much
had visited him 30 years before. plotting because the sagas in real life all have a
natural plot.
In Malta we have the advantage of studying at
least three languages besides Maltese, so I was ALM: You write short stories and essays too.
also exposed to several Italian, French and Mal- What is the title of your latest story and what
tese writers and poets such as, Giacomo Leopardi, inspired it?
Dante Alighieri, Petrarch, Guido Gozzano, Sergio
Corazzini, Ugo Foscolo, Giuseppe Ungaretti, Eu- RF: The last non-fiction story I wrote was, The
genio Montale, Salvatore Quasimodo; and Apolli- Mysterious Priest, the one that earned me the
naire, Baudelaire, Descartes, Camus, and Dumas Pushcart Prize nomination. Actually, the original
respectively. I also had my favourite Maltese po- was written in a much longer version and also had
ets, but for me the best of them all was Dr. Ruzar a different title, A Queer Happening. It is in fact
Briffa who impressed me with his poem, Young one of the chapters in my memoirs, Forgotten
Woman, don’t Dream … I also read some of the Fairy Tales. Like my poetry, most of my stories are
German writer’s works, Goethe. either based on real events and people, or are
based on legends and myths. This one is no differ-
Poetry has always been my forte because it came ent. The first version was inspired from true
naturally to me. I have often had to get up in the events, something which my wife, Angela and I
middle of the night to go to my desk, grab pen experienced in 2004, whilst I was having the fight
and paper and write poetry lines that decided to of my life, battling Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It was a
flood my mind at that unruly hour. At times, I very harrowing and painful experience, not only
cannot keep up with the words as they come and because of all the painful medical tests I went
if I don’t write them down immediately, I risk los- through, but also because I knew I was actually
ing them forever. I often think this is some sort of face to face with the grim reaper. I was brought
channeling exercise. Channeling in paranormal up with military discipline as my father not only
means, the delivery of information from beyond. fought in WWII, but spent 35 years working for
Journalism helped me because in poetry writing the British Services. Prior to his army days, he
one has to be concise, leave out unnecessary ad- spent five years in a capuchin novitiate convent
jectives, or descriptions that might sound fine but and according to him being in the army was like a
in fact are only verbal diarrhea. holiday next to his days at the convent. So fear
was never really a dominant feature of my DNA. I
Poetry is much more difficult to write than prose. still remember him telling me, “Life is a bitch and
Every word has to be carefully chosen because if you are a wimp, you will not survive!” I was
good poems should represent the essence of a constantly bullied in school. I remember my
story, or a saga without the need for over writing, mother used to wait for me with a towel and dis-
losing oneself in unnecessary adjectives that will infectant each time I returned from school, know-
only serve to bore the reader to death. Everything ing I would come back with cut cheeks, a bloody
the poet writes has to be concise, accurate, real nose, bruises, or deep cuts in my legs after some
and to the point. Readers will acknowledge a po- fight against a bigger kid who I would have had to
em even more, when they can assimilate the sto- take down to beat off on the school graveled
ry in it with their own. It makes them feel in good ground. My dad being in the army had taught me
company and they will want to read more of the all about self-defense since I was still 7 years old.
same. Robert Frost said: There are two kinds of But whilst you can prepare yourself for a fight, or
language – the spoken language and the written train as a soldier, you can never be trained to
language … words exist in the mouth not in fight this dreaded serial killer, called cancer. The
books! The vocabulary may be what you please, mysterious priest who visited us that evening was

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the only light I could see at the end of the tun- Then as I grew older I got hooked by Ernest Hem-
nel. mingway, Franz Kafka, John Steinbeck, Scott Fitz-
gerald, Graham Greene, W. Somerset Maugham,
ALM: How long did it take you to write your lat- H.G. Wells and Denis Wheatly. But life was then
est story and how fast do you write? less stressful, more relaxing and people seemed
more easy going and laid back. Today, we seem to
RF: The Mysterious Priest took me about an hour indulge ourselves in panic and stress, all self-
to write, but this was the longer version I men- created of course because people want to be-
tioned earlier. Actually, I have written the best come rich and have everything, even when that
poems within few minutes and these poems re- means losing their quality of life, their souls and
quired little or no editing. However, there have their humanity in the process. I often ask myself
been technical poems, like Tanka, Senryu, Pan- why have mankind invented technology with all
toum, French Triolettes, Shakespearian and Pet- its time saving state of the art equipment, when
rarchan sonnets, Rondeaux, Villanelle or poems we are still rushing around like headless chickens?
with a certain rhyme scheme that required many So after spending so many years in such a crazy
hours and sometimes days, even months to per- and stressful working environment, I have set out
fectionize. my own rules not to allow anyone to put me un-
der any type of pressure. Even when I’m working
Yes, I can write very fast probably because of my on an article with a deadline, I always take breaks
journalistic background and consequently the in between – but then I do have the ability of
experience I have obtained during over four dec- writing very quickly when I decided I want to step
ades of working in the fields of copywriting and on it. I hate this crazy world around us and genu-
PR. When I was a reporter, I remember the news inely feel sorry for young people who have no
editor, or the editor himself breathing down my idea what they missed not having been born in
neck as I was working on a story which they need- the 50s. I often ask myself the following ques-
ed urgently to close the gap in some corner of the tions: Who is benefitting from all the time saved
next day’s newspaper. Then there were no com- by all these technological inventions and why are
puters, or word processors, so if you made a mis- we increasing the retirement age instead of
take you would have to use Tippex, and if the cutting it down? Does it make sense that employ-
mistake was more complicated, you needed to re- ers expect people to retire when they are almost
start the whole thing. In advertising, it was pretty on their death bed? And isn’t this in a way coun-
much the same. It was a race against time and ter-productive seeing the problems European
clients often phoned needing a TV, or radio script young people are having finding jobs? The world
on a new product that was intended to go on air is in total chaos because it is being led by morons
that same day. So being laid back was not an op- and mercenary politicians whose only goal is to
tion in this kind of work. use their power for their own personal benefits.
Mr. E. E. Cummings was right after all: "A politi-
ALM: Do you have any unusual writing habits? cian is an arse upon which every-
one has sat except a man."
RF: Well, sort of. I cannot really concentrate for
more than a couple of hours on any piece of work ALM: You recently won the First Prize at 2017
I am writing, apart from poetry. Short stories, Adelaide Literary Contest for the best essay. Al-
articles, essays and longer works like my memoirs so, you are nominated for the Pushcart Prize by
have proved to be very tricky – it’s probably the the Adelaide Literary Magazine. Do these recog-
reason why I have never tried writing a novel. nitions influence your work and in what way?
But, then this, ‘defect’ also comes from my belief
that people prefer to read short stories, because RF: It’s funny you ask this question. Probably if
it doesn’t require the same kind of commitment you ask it to a US based writer, or a writer who
to finish reading a novel. I remember when I was hasn’t had to struggle every inch of the way since
young, I spent hours reading books, like The Fa- he was 13 to be both published and earn his living
mous Five or The Secret Seven by Enid Blyton and from writing, the answer could be different. I al-
I used to go through them very quickly, some- ways tell people that it would have been easier
times finishing a whole book within two days.

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for me to have taken up singing. At 15, a very writers in the world are those that base their
famous local opera singer discovered I was a nat- work on their own experiences, or those of other
urally gifted baritone with a unique voice. She people. Human life is full of sagas. Some are hap-
was convinced within a couple of years I could py, others tragic and some strange, or even un-
have been making my debut at Covent Garden. canny. There isn’t a single person out there that
But being young an stupid, I didn’t think I could doesn’t have a story to tell. Hemingway, Graham
do both writing and singing, so since singing Greene, Fitzgerald and so many other writers
would have required my parents to pay for my knew this and wrote most of their masterpieces
lessons, which at that time proved quite expen- about real people. That’s what people’s poetry is
sive, I decided to concentrate only on my writing. all about – writing poetry about events, places,
Of course I regret this now. So, having been so people and true experiences. But most of all, it’s
silly giving up a profession which could have defi- also about the language used to communicate
nitely made me quite well off, I had to ensure I with readers, which should be simple and
could justify my choice, at least by proving I was a straightforward. After all, the origins of poetry
good writer. A nomination for any top literary were intended to entertain the masses, the peo-
prize was only in my dreams but now it has finally ple in the street, the poor and even the illiterate.
happened. So of course, I am now more confident Somehow, throughout the ages this principle in
about my work and the decision I made at 15 to poetry was lost because some academics decided
abandon my singing is less painful. Writing is a they wanted to segregate this art and preserve it
lonely profession especially for aspiring writers. for themselves and the select few. They thought
Perhaps it’s the reason why some excellent they had a God given right to make this art solely
writing talents don’t make it through. It’s so easy for themselves and so the poetry became an elite
to give up when things are not happening and art, which in the Victorian era was practiced or
months pass without being able to get an ac- recited in the salons of the richest people. Then,
ceptance from an editor. In Maltese we have an educational institutions gave it the stigma it has
old saying: A sailor’s test on a ship is during a today, to the point that people cringe whenever
storm. Everybody can be a good sailor on calm the word poetry is mentioned. It inevitably re-
seas. Well I guess now, this gives me a new incen- minds them of the bad way in which it was taught
tive to continue pursuing my path. Writing has in schools, making it the nightmare of many stu-
proved to be 10% inspiration and 90% perspira- dents. Then, publishers jumped on the band wag-
tion, it’s what I was taught from day one by my on and started to accept poetry manuscripts only
fiction course mentor. from the select few writers that had been ad-
mitted into the parochial system dictated by
ALM: You have often mentioned people’s poet- some self-proclaimed academic institutions which
ry. What do you mean by this and can you elabo- acted as the judge and the executioner. Poetry no
rate on this theory? longer belonged to the people because what peo-
ple should read was decided by these parochial
RF: Yes, to this effect, I have written an essay institutions. The publication of obscure, vague
called, Poetry as a Communicable Medium. Way and abstract poetry didn’t help to make poetry
back in the 90s, I needed to quote an essay by any popular either. Poetry was originally created
Rita Dove, then the US poet Laureate, so I wrote as a means of communication, so if the poet’s
to her. She had said in one of her essays some- message is unclear to the point only he can un-
thing about poetry having been taught badly in derstand it, then his message has been lost and
schools and how teachers needed to concentrate will only remain to gather dust on some forgotten
more on helping students understand poetry first shelf. Milton Acorn was the founder of people’s
which was more important than learning it by poetry in Canada and today we are seeing poetry
heart. She also said: I think one of the things that being recited in coffee bars, pubs, restaurants and
people tend to forget is that poets do write out of even on the street. We are starting to see adver-
life. It isn't some set piece that then gets put up tisements with scripts that rhyme and Rap music
on the shelf, but that the impetus, the real insti- using the colloquial language young people seem
gation for poetry is everything that's happening to enjoy listening to so much. So I am hoping my
around us. I totally agree, because I think the best

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efforts to make my poetry more of a pleasure to language because it sounds Arabic, but is written
read and accessible will continue to make it more in the Latin alphabet. The Maltese language de-
popular and establish it once again as the art for veloped from the Siculo-Arabic or Sicilian Arabic,
all the people. Ezra Pound in his do’s and don’ts a form of Arabic that developed in Sicily and Mal-
on poetry writing once wrote: Poetry should be ta between the 9th and 14th centuries. There is
written at least as well as prose. Language is an also a theory that Maltese developed from Car-
instrument for expressing and not for concealing thaginian or Punic, the language of Carthage, a
or preventing thought. Go in fear of abstractions. form of Phoenician. As well as the Arabs who
tried to occupy Malta in 870 AD, Malta was
ALM: As an author and poet what are you work- helped by the Normans to oust out the Arabs in
ing on now? 1090, and between 1530 and 1798, it was gov-
erned by the Knights of St. John Hospitalliers. The
RF: Well, I have just finished an article on The Knights hailed from many different European
Hypogeum catacombs and the story of the miss- countries, so they spoke French, Spanish, Italian,
ing children. I have also got commissioned to Portuguese, Latin and German. In 1800, Malta
write an article on the Moorish influence on Spain became an important part of the British colony
by the US based Renaissance Magazine. I am also and Italian was replaced by English as the local
working on my memoirs, which for the moment second language. As a result, about half of the
have the title of, Forgotten Fairytales, and at the vocabulary of Maltese comes from Sicilian and
same time preparing a book of articles and short Italian, and a fifth comes from English. Maltese
stories, some of which have never been published also contains quite a bit of vocabulary from Nor-
for Adelaide Publishers. Every day, I work on new man and French.
poems and then there is my other book on the
benefits of creative writing, poetry therapy and ALM: In your opinion, what is the best way when
journal therapy. Last but not least, Nostalgia is a it comes to promoting your writings? Did you
bi-lingual book of poems in Maltese and English ever think about the profile of your readers?
being published by a leading Maltese publisher. It What do you think – who reads Raymond Fenech
has to be on sale at The International Book Fair in poetry and stories, or even better – who, in your
Malta in October 2017. This book has been a opinion, would benefit the most from reading
dream in the making for many years, since I left your writings?
college. I was 17 then and met with Michael who
like me loved writing poems in Maltese. I wrote RF: From the very beginning of my writing career,
mine in English. It was his idea to publish a book my mentors always insisted I should start learning
together and after over 40 years, we met again how to walk before I start running. Their advice
and he revived this project. Michael is a very busy was to start submitting work to the small press
family lawyer, but he writes divine poems in a magazines, because the chances of acceptance
very difficult language. Michael and I have some- were greater. Then, as the acceptances became
thing in common when it comes to the theme of more regular, I was to try magazines which were
our work – we both write about real places, peo- more difficult to access. It’s the way I managed to
ple and events and traditions which are becoming build up a decent publication credit list. If it’s po-
extinct. Perhaps it’s the reason why I came up etry we are talking about, as promotion I would
with the idea of Nostalgia as a title for the book. want to tell the people that my poetry is different
We needed a title used in both the English and to any other they have ever read. I resorted to
Maltese language. Nostalgia will also include writing in the people’s poetry language because it
some sketches, all relevant to some of our poems. makes me feel closer to the readers. I write in the
everyday language they speak, and promise I
Maltese is not an easy language and during the would rarely send them to the dictionary. I use
early part of the 20th century some academics foreignisms in my poems (Maltese words) to give
also believed it was too limited when it came to my writing a better sense of the Maltese life, tra-
finding the right Maltese adjectives for any de- ditions, the environment, the architecture, the
scription. Michael I think proves them wrong. history and why not the language. What made me
However it is extremely difficult to master as a write in English was the fact, from an early age I

222

realized that literary publications in Malta were make you a published author - it only makes you
non-existent. Besides, parochialism in the local a self-proclaimed writer. Publishing comes with
literary scene was quite evidently not going to hard work and the greatest satisfaction is when
help or encourage me. I experienced this first you have competed with other writers, you have
hand when I was 15, and some of my poems were been rejected hundreds of times and you keep
shown to a local academic for an assessment. But pursuing your dream until you succeed. Unfortu-
instead, he was prompt to dismiss them as youth- nately, today, even journalism has been turned
ful enthusiasm that would soon fade away and I into a farce. Journalism’s main goals is to inform
would forget all about it! I hate to think how accurately and educate. Today we have turned
many other young aspiring writers gave up their journalism into sensationalism. ‘Reporters’ base
dreams because their work was dismissed by this their ‘story facts’ on gossip and information they
academic’s self-conceited opinions. Then, it also read on internet and social media to write their
occurred to me I didn’t want to waste my writing ‘news’ and never bother to check if this infor-
talent being a big fish in a small pond. I wanted to mation is factual or not. The newspaper’s primary
know if I was good enough a writer, or not and if I aim is more concentrated on the number of
wasn’t then so be it. In Malta – very few people newspaper copies sold, than being accurate and
read Raymond Fenech, partly because I was never meticulous in their news reports. We read these
promoted and because I do not write in Maltese. disgraceful fictitious news reports every day and
But then, on the other hand in Malta, few people it seems it’s acceptable with the blessings of the
actually read anything, not even the newspaper. I editors of the newspapers. I remember once I
try to share my experiences in my writing with all went into a blog and was giving advice to some
the people because I would like them to know aspiring writers about the difference between
that I breathe from the same air that they do and publishing one’s work for real with real magazines
I share their pain and try to show them I am with and going through the procedure the hard way,
them and part of them. That is why I love Chilean or trying the easy way out by self-publishing one’s
poet, Pablo Neruda because in his own way, he work on blogs or web sites. One of the students
was always a people’s poet and represented all who was disappointed to discover I didn’t ap-
their joy and all their grief. He reflected this in his prove her methods of self-publishing replied an-
poems and I try to follow his example and hope grily that I was old fashioned and that things have
someday my poetry will be appreciated for these changed and writers publishing their work on
unique humane touches, perhaps even in the their own blogs or web sites were considered as
country where I was born. If that will ever happen publication credits. That might be true for the non
during my lifetime, I do not know, but if my -professionals, but for the prestigious magazines,
writing continues to be recognized abroad, I’m ok these publication credits count for nothing. The
with that too. One thing for sure, at some point reason is logical, the work wouldn’t have gone
the local literary community will have to recog- through any rigorous editorial scrutiny and was
nize me as a Maltese writer who for so many not chosen from among hundreds, even thou-
years has been bearing the Maltese flag each time sands on the basis of merit. There was no compe-
he triumphed. But if they will one day do this it tition whatsoever and the only reason it was pub-
will probably not be because they would want to, lished was because the author that submitted it
but because if they don’t, they’ll simply look stu- was also the editor. I have nothing against social
pid. media, but if an aspiring writer is truly deter-
mined to become a professional writer, there are
ALM: Do you have any advice for new poets/ no short cutsto do that. Writing is like every other
authors? profession, but above everything else it’s an art
and the only way to refine it is through acquiring
RF: Perseverance against all odds. Don’t rush into knowledge through advice by professional editors
trying to be published and whatever you do re- and experienced writers and tutors. That is why it
member that there are no shortcuts to being a is a long, sometimes painful and hard road
real published author. Creating a blog, or a web to take. Skipping the initiation, I call it, baptism by
site and publishing one’s work on these does not

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fire and proclaiming oneself published will not do you expect others to read yours? I personally
give you the experience, the technique, or the hate writing contests and the one I entered orga-
knowledge and genuine publication credits you nized by Adelaide Literary Magazine was the first I
need to improve one’s work. If you want to reach participated in the last 20 years. I always consid-
great heights, you have to aim for the sky. If you ered literary competitions like a lottery and de-
are afraid of criticism which might come in the spite winning first prize, I still don’t think that to
form of rejections, or even short comments by become a good writer one needs to take part in
the editors and you’d rather live a life of make- competitions. However I do strongly believe writ-
belief rather than reality, then writing is not for ers should all share their knowledge with their
you. Anything that can be called a great achieve- peers, especially the ones that are published and
ment can only come with hard work and great established with the young and aspiring ones. I’ve
perseverance. Writing is 10 % inspiration and 90% come across some selfish writers in the course of
perspiration – remember that always. my long career and could never understand what
pleasure there is in taking all their experience and
ALM: What is the best advice you have ever tricks of the trade to the grave with them, rather
heard? than leaving a legacy of their knowledge for new
authors to utilize for their own development.
RF: The greatest advice came through the text
book of a journalism course I had enrolled for ALM: Do you read a lot and what are you read-
called, The Human Machine. It was a short arti- ing now?
cle about how to control fear. Fear is the major
scourge of most people. Every human senses fear RF: Well, I don’t read the way I used to – that is I
and this is healthy when it’s used for self- used to pick a book, mostly to read for pleasure
preservation. But fear like everything else be- or recreation. Today, I go through stacks of books,
comes number one public enemy if it is allowed all at the same time because I’m either studying
to take complete control of the mind. Once that for a particular course, or looking for material,
happens, people lose their focus, panic and more which I need, to write on a particular subject, for
often than not make the wrong decisions. We all an article, essay, or some other research. At the
have fears and the only way to eliminate these is moment, I was going through the book, The Cour-
to put each and every one of them under a spot- age to Write byRalph Keyes. This book is helping
light, dissect them and once we do that, most will me to complete my memoirs. In fact, it has in-
discover that that particular fear was magnified spired me not only how to be courageous to write
beyond any realistic proportions, so in reality it the truth, but also to base more of my poems on
wasn’t that fearsome after all. I learned that cour- real people and events. I’m supposed to have
age was not the absence of fear, but the triumph enrolled for a diploma course in parapsychology,
over it. The brave man is not he who does not so I’m trying to get to grips with two of the text
feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear (Nelson books for this course, Guidelines for Extrasensory
Mandela). Everything we do in our lives will take Perception Research and Guidelines for Testing
courage to conquer, but you must remember that Psychic Claimants. Lastly, I am doing research for
the best dreams can only be achieved by sheer another article commissioned to me
determination and perseverance. Writers have a by Renaissance Magazine about the Moorish In-
very special mission to fight against many evils fluence on Spain, so that is going to take a lot of
and to do this, they need to believe in their own reading as well.
ability and to be fearless when the time comes for
them to make their debut. As a poet, I always ALM: What are your favorite books ever?
keep in mind what American poetess, May Swen-
son once said, Poetry can help man to stay hu- RF: All the hundreds of books in my library are my
man. My parents instilled in me a love for read- favourites. However, there is one very special
ing. Unless aspiring writers read the classics, their book I have based my whole life’s philosophy on
writing capabilities will always fall short when and it is the one I just mentioned, The Human
competing with the best. Always remember if you Machine by Edward Roffe Thompson. It was a text
don’t read the work of your contemporaries, how book provided in my journalism course by The

224

London Educational Association. The book origi- There is not a single road, or street where tower
nated from a series of articles written by this au- cranes, trucks, giant jiggers and huge amounts of
thor who lectured about common-sense wisdom. dust are not the order of the day for the poor
His articles were published in the John residents living in every town or village in Malta.
Bull magazine in the UK that had a circulation of Most building developers are hand in glove with
1,350,000 making it Britain’s best-selling maga- the authorities and the ministers concerned.
zine throughout the early 20th century. Each These developers sponsor their electoral cam-
chapter deals with some of the most common paigns, so basically they can do what they like,
problems human beings face on every day basis, including breaking every law on safety when
offering a logical solution or advice to each. I these are demolishing houses in inhabited areas.
think this book is recommendable to every aspir- We have even had serious incidents because of
ing writer, no matter the writing genre he intends this irresponsible attitude and people actually
to specialize in. I also love horror and ghost sto- died when their properties fell due to the works
ries but have also read all the books by Dr. Lyall next door, burying them alive under the debris.
Watson, like Supernature, The Romeo Error, Many an environmental organization has voiced
Heaven’s Breath, Life Tide, Gifts of Unknown their concern about the continuous unsustainable
Things, Dark Nature and The Nature of Things. development and the serious and irrevocable
One other book I loved reading consequences, but permits to build high-rise
was, PapaHemingway, a biography of the author blocks of apartments keep being issued anyway.
written by A.E. Hotchner. Living his own life was My birth place, the once quiet fishing village of St.
the greatest story ever told of all the stories he Julian’s mostly popular for its quiet streets, small
wrote about other people. farms and fields that surrounded the small bay of
Spinola has been mercilessly raped. It has been
ALM: What do you deem the most relevant converted into a gigantic concrete town, housing
about your writings? the first skyscraper that dwarfs the historic 17th
century Spinola Palace named after Fra Paolo
RF: Anything that is under the sun and sometimes Spinola, a Knight of the Order of St. John. The
beyond. But mostly, I am hurt to see the condi- village and the fishermen are no more and now
tion of the environment in this world, Malta in it’s packed solid with restaurants, bars, discos,
particular. I am really starting to believe that the nightclubs and hotels. The old houses are all gone
only good politician is a dead one and that the and the streets are jam packed with traffic 24/24
world is being led by mercenary people with only all the year round. The noise pollution has driven
one goal: making money for themselves and their many residents away from their beloved village,
few select friends at the expense of every Mr which not only is unrecognizable but has also
John Citizen. Malta until the early fifties was a been converted into a red light district, and a
haven for upmarket tourists, who visited it for its slum area making certain places unsafe to walk.
history, the unusual architecture of the old hous- So it is no surprise many of my poems, have been
es of character made of beautiful limestone and inspired by the change in my beloved village, at
the quaint little villages, their narrow streets times cursing those responsible for its merciless
tucked away and surrounded by fields and farms. rape, and reducing it into a decadent town, no
Within the last 60 years, most of the island has one wants to live in.
been converted into a jungle of concrete, replac-
ing beautiful houses of character with mini claus- ALM: What is your favorite quote?
trophobic apartments that have ruined the quali-
ty of life for thousands of Maltese, creating noise RF: “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons
pollution, parking problems and over-crowding in exist. Children already know that dragons exist.
every town. These buildings have no architectural Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”
value whatsoever because they were designed (G.K. Chesterton)
haphazardly to make a quick buck. They look all
the same, like one matchbox on top of another, ALM: You are the first Maltese author to have
small prison cells for all the gullible citizens which undertaken a specialized course in poetry thera-
actually buy this rubbish at exorbitant prices. py – how did that come about and why did you
become so interested in this form of therapy?

225

RF: Well in 2005, whilst I was undergoing chemo- my course for which I got a certificate. It is my
therapy, still quite unsure of the results, I decided intention to introduce this incredible therapy in
I wanted to enroll for a Bachelor of Arts degree in my country. Thinking about journal and poetry
creative writing. It had always been in the back of therapy after completing the courses, I realized
my mind, but I never had had the time to do it. I that when I was in my teens and had those typical
thought the amount of work I would have to do teenage depressions, I was actually self-
on this course would also help to alleviate the administering both journal and poetry therapy
continuous negative thoughts that were plaguing when I was writing down my feelings in my diary
my mind. One day, I came across a book, The and writing poetry to vent my anger and rebellion
Healing Word by Fiona Sampson. I found it on at the world around me.
Amazon Books and bought it. When I Read it, I
realized it really had nothing to do with writing "...today, even journalism has
poetry techniques, instead it was all about how been turned into a farce.
poetry was used as therapy to exorcise one’s de- Journalism’s main goal is to
mons. Well the subject interested me to the point inform accurately and educate.
I wanted to know more and then eventually came Today we have turned
up with the idea of basing my BA thesis on Poetry journalism into sensationalism.
Therapy. There was one problem though, I had ‘Reporters’ base their ‘story
very little access to this new discovery of mine, so facts’ on gossip and
I decided to write to some professionals in this information they read on
field. One of them was Prof Sherry Reiter, Direc- internet and social media to
tor of The Creative ‘Righting’ Center in New York. write their ‘news’ and never
She answered my email immediately and told me bother to check if this
she conducted courses for licensed poetry thera- information is factual or not.
pist and offered me to enroll. The only problem The newspaper’s primary aim is
was, I just couldn’t afford that kind of money at a more concentrated on the
time when I didn’t even know if I was going to number of newspaper copies
survive cancer, never mind finding a job. So re- sold, than being accurate and
grettably, I replied telling her, I would have loved meticulous in their news
to enroll for one of her courses but I couldn’t reports. We read these
afford it. Sherry took me completely by surprise disgraceful fictitious news
only about a week later with an email that reports every day and it seems
brought tears to my eyes. Sherry had simply told it’s acceptable with the
me she was willing not only to offer me a scholar- blessings of the editors of the
ship, but she would actually be my mentor for the newspapers."
duration of the course. I always believed, the
mysterious priest I wrote about was some kind of
angel in disguise - this was another angel sent
from heaven to continue supporting me. Some-
thing tells me, Prof Reiter being a veteran in the
art of poetry therapy sensed something in my
email and not just wanted to give me free tuition,
but also free poetry therapy sessions to improve
and intensify my will to defeat cancer. Now, Sher-
ry and I are friends and she calls me her Maltese
falcon – I will never forget what she did for me
and wish more people would have the good for-
tune of coming across wingless angels on this
earth like her! Well, I am not a licensed poetry
therapist, but I did do some practice on volun-
teers in Malta and completed the theory part of

226

ALM: Since you have delved into so many fields this is a very long shot, but I do believe that this
of writing do you have any other upcoming pro- can be done unless of course, spokes are put into
jects? my works. My other project is to introduce writ-
er’s visits at schools and colleges and perhaps
RF: Only two come to mind, but it’s going to re- even writer’s lectures to students who want to
quire a lot of work and preparation. I am refering make a career out of writing. In support, I was
to introducing writing/poetry/journal therapy in also thinking of offering to sponsor the prizes for
Malta. The Maltese are very sceptic about any- a writing contest, starting perhaps at one of the
thing that is new, but when it comes to the health colleges I attended and slowly spreading this to
or medical sector, this is even more so. But I have other schools. I have already tried to talk to the
lately been speaking with an art therapist and he headmaster of the secondary school I used to
was fascinated when I explained to him at some attend by writing to him several times, but never
length about the benefits of these writing thera- received even an acknowledgment. However, I
pies. So, we should be meeting again to discuss don’t give up that easily, and now with my Push-
our combined venture on this subject. If things go cart Prize nomination, I’m hoping there would be
the way I expect them to go, I might even decide a college or a school in Malta willing to allow me
to invite Prof Sherry Reiter to hold a National As- to develop this project. The Adelaide editor has
sociation of Poetry Therapy conference here in already been kind enough to offer me his support
Malta. This will serve to introduce this therapy in this project, by publishing the winning works of
professionally locally and perhaps courses in this the students in a special page on one of the mag-
field could be hosted at the University of Malta in azine issues. For that, I would like to thank him
collaboration with the Creative ‘Righting’ Center and express my most heartfelt appreciation.
at Touro College, Hofstra University, USA. I know
ALM: Thank you, Ray. Good luck with your
Ray in his study. writing. God bless.

227

THE INCIDENT OF “The spiritual part of my body had taken over the
THE MYSTERIOUS rest of my mortal self…My whole perception of life
PRIEST was totally changed. I felt detached from all ma-
terial things and was thinking only of the long
And Other Stories voyage ahead, a voyage from which no one has
By Raymond Fenech ever returned. Even my sleep had been disturbed
by dreams of family members who had passed
Paperback: 250 pages (estimated) away. They were beckoning me to join them. The
Publisher: Adelaide Books (Fall 2017) scene was like a huge jigsaw puzzle falling into
Language: English place, it was the picture of my life on earth at its
ISBN-10: 0-9992148-4-5 end.”
ISBN-13: 978-0-9992148-4-8
Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.7 x 9 inches The writing style, the flow of the stories, introduc-
tion and development of the complex characters,
intense and multilayered plots with exciting twists
and turns, original setting of each of the stories -
everything about this collection of short stories
and essays is a compliment to a wordsmith’s
craft.
(Stevan V. Nikolic, Editor, Adelaide Literary Mag-
azine)

Raymond Fenech embarked on his writing career
as a freelance journalist at 18 and worked for the
leading newspapers, The Times and Sunday Times
of Malta. He edited two nation-wide distributed
magazines and his poems, articles, essays and
short stories have been featured in several publi-
cations in 12 countries. His research on ghosts has
appeared in The International Directory of the
Most Haunted Places, published by Penguin
Books, USA.

228

EMOTIONS With reason, we go beyond what we can sense.
EMOÇÕES With emotions, we go beyond what we can rea-
son. If, and only if, we take the time to listen to
Poems and Thoughts our deep states of mind, to our divine instincts,
By Pierre Sotér and then have the courage to follow them. And
bring our souls with us wherever we go, whenev-
Series: Poems and Thoughts by Pierre Sotér er we come back.
Paperback: 174 pages
Publisher: Adelaide Books (Fall 2017) We have a word for it, emotions. But not enough
Language: English and Portuguese words to explain it. We will never have enough
ISBN-10: 0-9992148-5-3 words for such a task. Therefore, possibly, the
ISBN-13: 978-0-9992148-5-5 only way to expose our emotions is through poet-
Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.4 x 9 inches ry. Where each word can, in mysterious ways, by
combining with other words, in mysterious ways,
allow us to travel through our emotions, and
make it possible for new emotions, sometimes
unknown, to take over our souls and minds.
That’s what the words in this book are trying to
do, in their own emotional way. Like in the simple
words of love, in which there is love and there is
more. There are emotions.

Pierre Sotér is the pen name of a well-established
Portuguese author. After thirty years of successful
professional life and intensive soul-searching, he
now dedicates his time to poetry and philosophy.
The EMOTIONS is the third book in the Book Se-
ries “Poems and Thoughts of Pierre Sotér.” Pierre
writes in Portuguese, English, and French.

229

IT MAY BE The tracks of life are long and winding,
BETTER brief the encounters of love and sin,
and bitter-dry the taste of finding
Poems and Thoughts that someone will lose and none will win.
By Pierre Sotér
I am lying, flying, diving
Series: Poems and Thoughts by Pierre Sotér life is selling, I am buying.

Paperback: 174 pages Details make perfection, yet perfection is not a
Publisher: Adelaide Books (Spring 2018) detail. Men like Leonardo da Vinci can, even with
Language: English fewer words than those, describe complex con-
cepts and realities. Others, without needing to
ISBN-10: 0-9992148-6-1 push, can criticize and raise awareness in power-
ISBN-13: 978-0-9992148-6-2 ful ways with only a few words. For those that
Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.4 x 9 inches don’t have such gift for clear words and sharp
thinking, and still know that too many words only
confuse and blur, poetry becomes the only tool to
pass their message. And to express their worries
and their concerns in ways that sometimes may
hurt, but with the constructive power of touching
consciences without punishing nor making any-
one lose face, without imposing the loneliness of
guilt.

… This book has been written in the context of
realities that I have tried to understand but to
which no one may ever find final answers and
first causes. The feelings I experienced while I
wrote, as with most of our feelings, were certain-
ly determined by a too complex set of circum-
stances and factors that I tried to register in com-
pact words, through poetry. I could not do it oth-
erwise. And if I will go through it again, the result
may not be the same. Life may not have causes as
clear as we want to believe.

Beneath the barren crags there’s no more sand
and breaking waves are seen in all directions,
and lashing whips in nature’s angry hand
will impose solutions, will not take questions.

And God will command Darwin again
to teach heaven’s laws to stubborn men.

To know beyond what can be known, does fetter,
to know less but wisely, it may be better.

Pierre Sotér is the pen name of a well-established
Portuguese author. After thirty years of successful
professional life and intensive soul-searching, he
now dedicates his time to poetry and philosophy.
IT MAY BE BETTER is the first book in the Book
Series “Poems and Thoughts of Pierre Sotér.”
Pierre writes in Portuguese, English, and French.

230

Catalog of This anthology presents a selection of texts by
Everything Peter K. Wehrli, representing over forty years of
writing and traveling. It covers diverse experienc-
And Other Stories es, from the author's early relationships with the
avant-garde Swiss Dadaists in Zurich to a conver-
by Peter Wehrli sation in Brazil that is surprisingly revealing of
Wehrli's homeland. While meandering through
Paperback: 224 pages the vignettes that follow, readers will savor the
Publisher: lulu.com (January 8, 2015) author's new perspective, one that reawakens the
Language: English child inside us and encourages us to view the
ISBN-10: 1304960404 world as if it were for the very first time.
ISBN-13: 978-1304960405
Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.6 x 9 inches

231

CELLAR

Photography by Catherine Cates

Photos by Catherine Cates presented in Septem-
ber Issue of the Adelaide Literary Magazine in the
black & white version could be seen in full color
in our online gallery at:
http://photography.adelaidemagazine.org
Photos featured in this issue are:
Cellar
Corner lot
Forest floor rising
Horticultural spa
Passageway
The doll-maker’s shop
Where the river bends

Catherine Cates currently lives in Las Vegas, Ne-
vada. She started creating art, taking photo-
graphs, and writing poetry while growing up in
Salt Lake City, Utah. She loves the unexpected
and nostalgic; images that make her want to take
a deeper look and stay awhile. She says: “All
forms of art, particularly photographs, tell stories
about the human condition and the relationships
we have with the world around us. The images
are a narrative of who we were, who we are, who
we are becoming, and who we’d like to be.”
More of her portfolio of photographs and art can
be viewed at http://catcat.es.

232

233

PHOTOGRAPHY

by Patricia Hanahoe-Dosch

Photos by Patricia Hanahoe-Dosch presented in
September Issue of the Adelaide Literary Maga-
zine in the black & white version could be seen
in full color in our online gallery at:
http://photography.adelaidemagazine.org
Photos featured in this issue are:
Boardwalk
End Of Ventnor City Boardwalk
Sea Gull Flying Into Sun Rise
Sunrise Over Atlantic City
Sunrise Over Atlantic City 2
Sunrise Over Fishing Pier
Sunrise Over Margate City Beach

Pat Hanahoe-Dosch has an MFA from the Univer-
sity of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona, and is currently
a Full Professor of English at Harrisburg Area
Community College, Lancaster campus. Her po-
ems have been published in Rattle, The Paterson
Literary Review, as well as The Atticus Review,
War, Art and Literature, Confrontation, The Red
River Review, San Pedro River Review, Marco
Polo Arts Magazine, Red Ochre Lit, Nervous
Breakdown, Quantum Poetry Magazine, The Pea-
cock Journal, Apt, Switched-on Gutenberg, among
many others; one was nominated for a Pushcart
in 2014. Her first book, Fleeing Back, and her
recently published second book, The Wrack Line,
are available through FutureCycle Press's website,
futurecycle.org, or Amazon.com. You can see
more of her photos on her website

http://phanahoedosch.weebly.com/

234

235



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