Pinna Poetika, a collection of poems

By Anthony Farrugia

Self-published at Progress Press

Poetry is undoubtedly the most intense art where sentimentality is concerned. Its intensity complements all the other arts with an effusion that easily escapes sheer reality to wander into the ephemeral state of spirituality. Like every other art, it is innate, and life itself, with all its joy and sadness, is its teacher all along.

Anthony Farrugia, initially resorting to poetry at various intervals and occasions in his life, seemingly enjoying the spiritual satisfaction his lines offered him and a limited circle of friends, already aware of his poetic tendencies, ironically embarked on the road of Maltese literature with the ever-popular novel and short stories, of which he wrote a few but very good ones, earning for himself recognition and acclaim as a novelist. But as is usually the case, the poetic essence was also very evident and dominant in his prose.

Still, Farrugia frequently resorted to poetry per se, very satisfactorily expressing his innate love of nature, family, friends, an overall sense of peace and harmony, the very ideals of a born poet.

Haply, now in his older years, Farrugia has decided to publish the majority of his poems written to date, a collection of 126 of them, a few of them in Italian, English and French; a really expansive and delightful romp into every sort of human emotion.

Most of them are sad to a degree, others sparkle with witty undertones, some are quite cynical; most are in the classical style of verse, others wander freely and at leisure with the poet’s moods, pain, let downs, restlessness, bitterness and interludes of sheer joy and exuberance. Particularly beautiful are Talba, Tislima, Dalgħodu, Vjola Ċkejkna, Meta se nara wiċċek, Sriep, Lil Ommi, Stretta di mano, Vorrei, The train of life and Le printemps.

The collection opens with a superb extensive critical study of both poems and poet by Patrick Sammut, and the curtain ultimately falls on a brief biography of Anthony Farrugia himself, with an open blank space for comments by prospective readers.

This is indeed a must for all lovers of poetry; neatly very well set and printed by Progress Press, a life in poetry of a man who, like every other true poet, has always sought the  ideals which, sadly, and particularly in these days of chaos, tribulations, wars, drought, famine and what have you, have almost become bitter illusions (and parodies) of peace and serenity, tinged with despair.