Poets, Poems Everywhere - Independence Day Parade, a Museum, a Convention - 7/2025

Poets Convertible with crew Josephine, Maja with a basket of poems and flags, poet konrad Wilk as the driver, Artur Wilk and Pam Shea ("Betsy Ross") who gave out postcards, former poet laureate Alice Pero and current poet laureate kathleen Travers.

Most of the time I have spent with poetry has been either with a page of paper or the computer screen as I write or edit my own poems and the California Quarterly.  Therefore, it was a great pleasure this July to participate in three fantastic poetry events in person! 

First I walked the route of Sunland-Tujunga's Independence Day parade, giving out 1000 poem postcards and 250 mini-flags (with two helpers) The postcards included two of my own poems, reproduced below and the first stanza of America the Beautiful, which should be American national anthem, but alas, is not... 

THE COLOR GUARD

Above the hills' crooked spine, clouds dissolve

into the azure. Dark red rose lazily unfolds its petals.

My “Mr. Lincoln” blossoms by the birch tree

with the innocence of long-lost, Polish summers.

White bark peaks from beneath green leaves.

White oleander spills over white picket fence.

The sapphire sky shines with the deepest blue of the iris.

Its yellow heart matches sunshine's purest gold,

bouncing off the brilliant sphere of the stamens

in the bridal silk of white matilla poppies.

My garden presents the colors at noon 

dressed in the red, white and blue of the flag.

At night, fireworks tear the indigo fabric

into light ribbons and multicolored sparks.

             

Fireworks scatter into chaos of laughter -

the children's delight - the Fourth of July!

(C) 2025 by Maja Trochimczyk 

This is a new version of a poem that earlier included references to the wonderful piece by Chares Ives, The Fourth of July that contains the best musical image of fireworks in a music history... But almost nobody in America   knows about Charles Ives, so I deleted this reference, alas...

When I gave out the other poem to one lady in the audience, she said she still had it on her fridge from last year, and I was happy to hear that,  but it is time to write a new Independence Day poem... 

INDEPENDENCE DAY

Red is the color of rocks in the Grand Canyon

White are the mountains, shining with snow.

Bue are the waves of Pacific Ocean.

Red, White and Blue - the colors of all

Red is the Earth from which we come

White is the Air that fills our lungs

Blue is the Water inside us, with Stardust

Red, White and Blue - connected in all.

Red is pure love, deep in our hearts

White is the brightness of our clear minds

Blue is serenity of well lived lives.

Red, White and Blue - freedom for all.

(C) 2018 by Maja Trochimczyk

Maja, Alice Pero and Hilda Weiss, 20/7/25

Two weeks later it was time for my poetry feature at Bolton Hall Museum in Tujunga - at Village Poets of Sunland Tujunga. I was co-featured with Hilda Weiss of the Poetry A Video Series and environmental activism, so I selected poems about spiritual reflections rooted in nature... Josephine recorded my 19 min. reading in two parts. I managed to read quite a few poems because I did not spend any time on ubiquitous introductions explaining the poem before it is read. I quite dis lie those, so there...

I started from a challenge to action - a spot of sunlight moving across the hills I see from my window. 

Outside my Window

 

 

A round spot of gold light appears

on the smooth slope of California hills

green in the spring, shadowed by rainclouds.

 

Suddenly, an epiphany of light

blossoms among thickening shadows, 

dusk approaching soon, much too soon.

 

The shining circle stretches into an arrow, 

points west, along the ridge. The arrow of light, 

my arrow, tells me to go, do, act, lead and follow.

Be the light, bring the light. Enlighten.

 

Before I can even reach for pen and paper

to write down this command, this call to action,

it is gone. All is shadow now. Murky darkness.

  

Yet the memory of the cloud epiphany lingers,

etched onto my retina. This spot of light,

this arrow will always be with me—

Each morning, I will turn the circle of contemplation 

into the arrow of action, the dawn star 

into a comet, inexorably reaching its end.

 

Is it not the story of my life?

This spot of light on a mountain meadow

after one winter storm, before another?

 

I catch it, hold it, and keep it safe 

among my treasures. Things not to be 

discarded. Unforgettable thoughts.

 

Another pearl for my precious necklace

woven from brilliant moments— 

jewels of a well-lived life.

(c) 2022 by Maja Trochimczyk, from Bright Skies. Selected Poems.  Reprinted here

https://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2022/08/maja-trochimczyks-new-book-bright-skies.html

The next bunch featured poem reproduced here - and poems An Artichoke of a Poem, Mata Boska Zielna, The Infinity Room, Dragon Fruit Awareness... that appeared in Crystal Fire  Poems of Joy and Wisdom and the California Quarterly.  

Oh, the Art of Looking

Look ahead— 

wave and wave and wave

dance in the moonlight

a silver path across the ocean

shimmering horizon

stark intensity

of the Pacific

Look up—

the Milky Way

What do you see?

The spine of the world?

Buttons made of stars?

Indigo cupola with diamonds?

wave after wave after wave

Look inside—

deep into my eyes

electric currents flow

in an arc of brightness

connecting us into One

the Oneness we forgot

Now, we are alive, we are

One—the clear azure

of windswept sky—

the ruby wine

beneath roots

of the earth  

Look around—

wake up and see,

truly see where you are—

enveloped in a blanket

of time, carried

from now to now—

from wave to wave to wave

from Earth into Earth into One

(C) 2022 by Maja Trochimczyk, first published in California Quarterly 44 no. 4 . 

In the second part of the reading, I focused on newer poems from 2024 and those published in the anthology Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdom (2022).  "Dragon Fruit Awareness" was already posted here, not long ago, in fact... "Grapes on a Vine" have also been reprinted on my blogs, so I'll not repost it here.  But I found a forgotten poem in my notes, and here it is (from July 2024).

Summer Bee Buzz

The bees buzz in the pin, crepe myrtle tree.

The sound of my childhood. 

I hear that enormous indent tree. I fee

those 21 stings in my head. The taste 

of fragrant amber of buckwheat honey.

My garden is tranquil in the morning before 

my neighbors get up. Only the golden orioles

make ratting noises with their harsh, 

machine-like voices. Maybe they will settle here. 

The intricate, sweet melodies of mockingbirds 

are gone. They moved on after the row of old 

oleanders was cut down. They used to bravely

fight with crows to protect their nests. 

Unfurled white stripes on gray brown tails

Now the orioles shine like pure god 

in sunlight. Such lovely plumage

Such hoarse rattles of their sounds --

                                                               Bizarre...

You cannot have everything.

                                                    You must choose.

The transient body or the timeless soul

Riches of appearance, or the deep truth of the heart. 

"My kingdom is not of this world" 

                                                -- the teacher said. 

         Indeed.

(c) 2024 by Maja T.

The reading ended with "A Declaration" with its refrain, so suitable for this reading - "I am a sovereign citizen of the galaxy"...

Six days later, I was already in Albuquerque, NM, at the convention of the National Federation of State Poetry Societies, where I represented California as the President of its State Poetry Society since 2019. It was the first time attending a meeting with 30 other State Societies' Presidents and I felt it was worth my time. These days, given I'm already past 64 (from the Beatles song), and fast approaching 68, I do what is "worth my time" and ignore things that are not... Seen from the air, the earth was covered with patterns of light and shadow,  as are our lives...

Since it was my first time in Albuquerque, I decided to visit some scenic sites - and my first choice was the Turquoise Museum. I was so impressed that I wrote about turquoise and sent my poem to its Executive Director...

A Turquoise Story

~ after visiting the Turquoise Museum, Albuquerque, New Mexico

A rock. A white rock with a vein of blue. 

An axe. A pickaxe. A shovel.

The bulging muscles of the miner,

covered in dust, stained with the earth.

Earth to earth. Dust to dust.

From earth, they dig out the vivid hues 

of tranquil sea and summer sky.

They dig, they polish, they arrange 

small pieces into sets. Here – a necklace, 

there – a bracelet, belt buckle or brooch. 

From chalk-white, to aqua, to ice-blue, to navy, 

almost indigo – clear and smooth, or covered with 

a spiderweb matrix of gold lines – fool’s gold, 

mind you – or black, or white, or sienna.

 

No two pieces of turquoise are the same – 

no two persons – unique and so different, 

yet connected, with brilliant minds, 

flexible bodies, compassionate hearts. 

Like turquoise, we, too, are from the Earth.

We, too, carry the sky within.  

(c) 2025 by Maja Trochimczyk

Back at the NFSPS Convention, by chance, I participated in a Slam Poetry style Haiku Death Match.  Of 16 Participants, one was crowned the Death Match Champion. Three haiku were read in each round, where two poets were set against each other, replying with a haiku to haiku.  Three-person pane judged the poems and picked the winner who got the best of three. At first, I only had two haiku ready - for I thought it was just a regular reading. But after the rues were announced I scrolled through my gmail messages and found old submissions to our Haiku Study Group Anthologies - and that was enough to find myself in semifinals, defeated by the champion Jerry Hardesty of Alabama. So much fun!  Some of these mini poems appeared in the SCHSG anthologies in 2021, 2022 and 2024. One was just printed in the CQ v. 51 no. 2 (Summer 2025).

First round haiku

Shapeshifting clouds shade

                cement prison housing blocks -

                                              longing for freedom

Roadrunner waits for me, 

                   a limp lizard in its beak -

                                                                                    Carpe Diem

 

 In SCHSG Anthology "The Taste of Sunlight" (2022) 

old linden tree 

             in her empty courtyard -

      the scent of memories 

Second round haiku

           "let me go!"

my kite tugs on its string -

                          we dream of freedom

the flutter of wings

               interrupts my thoughts -

                                       a feather-light heart

Dead Sea Scrolls unfurl

            insights for 3 millennia

                      "you shall... you shall not..."

 In California Quarterly, v. 51, no. 2 (Summer 2025)

Third round haikn

shadow and light - 

               yes and no chase each other 

                                               in circular motion

In San Diego Poetry Annual 2023-24

 

`high school latin class

             Ars longa Vita Brevis -

                             true beauty lingers

In SCHSG Anthology "The Taste of Sunlight" (2022) 

one breath, one bite,

      one thought, one step at a time  -

                                    the measure of life

 

16 contestants and the MC, NFSPS Convention, 26/7/2025

we doze off under

protection of cloud dragon -

or is it a rabbit? 

Photos of nature and clouds by Maja T.

 

A Thousand Buddhas and the Wisdom of Dead Sea Scrolls

In May 2025, I attended two exhibitions with different religious content. First, I visited the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana on the way to an event that afternoon.  Among various displays there was a series of  large mandalas, one with a thousand Buddhas surrounding the central,  larger Buddha (called Vairocana Buddha or Sarvavid or "all-knowing" Buddha) reflected in four images in four cardinal directions.  I was wondering about its title and the tiny squares of multiple Buddhas around the central image did not seem that numerous so I actually counted them a. Indeed - one thousand.  I wondered what is better, to see a thousand Buddhas in heavens, arranged in perfect symmetry, or to proclaim one, true, invisible, omnipresent God? 

A Mandala of a Thousand Buddhas

Seated on the lotus throne of wisdom, 

surrounded by insights of four other Buddhas 

of four cardinal directions, the Thousand-Buddhas' Buddha 

smiles serenely. He knows. The multicolored aureoles, 

nestled within each other, glow with cosmic perfection.

All Buddhas of this Thousand-Buddha Heaven 

are tranquil. They know what is to be known. 

Peaceful, they rest in the brightness of wisdom, 

the dazzling light of compassion. Are all Thousands of Buddhas

the same? Do they smile the same smile? Know the same truths?

How would I know? Which one is right? Which one 

will protect me, will shine a light on my path?

Perplexed, I shake my head and walk home.

After counting more than a thousand Buddhas, 

I am unsure which one could truly be mine.

(C) Maja Trochimczyk, May 2025

The mandalas were crowded and full of spiritual presence - so many enlightened beings in each tiniest unit of space... An orderly cosmos of perfection, compassion, wisdom, and goodness...

Then, a week later, I went to the Reagan Presidential library to see the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit and was not disappointed. It was the second such exhibition that I visited - the first one was in San Diego in 2008 when I wrote the poem below.  The ancient, sacred texts were fragmented, and yet revealed over two thousand years of perfection, compassion, wisdom and goodness.  It was so moving to see these tiny fragments carrying the writings, the testimony over generations! 

a photo of a scroll fragment, Reagan library, May 2025

Dead Sea Alive

                On seeing the Dead Sea Scrolls Exhibition

                at San Diego’s Balboa Park, January 4, 2008

An archipelago of broken words

a mosaic of ill-fitting pieces

Torn ribbons with angelic voices

coded by crooked signs

Scholars decipher, assemble patterns

the dust of ages obscures the meaning

Here – “Blow your trumpets,

slay the guilty”

There – “He heals the badly wounded,

makes the dead live”

I see “YHWH” – four letters in an ancient script

I hear – “Halleluiah!”

After two thousand years,

two hundred days and two hours

I offer a sacrifice

of my mind to the eternal presence

The angels are here with us

hovering on iridescent wings

Just above red boxes with fire blankets

just beyond a row of glass screens

With miniature shreds

of holiness inside

© 2008 by Maja Trochimczyk, Quill and Parchment, Dec. 2009

https://quillandparchment.com/archives/Dec2009/dead.html

X-ray of the fragmented scrolls reproduced above.

At home, I used to have several volumes about Dead Sea Scrolls, with the stories of the Essenes, and fragmented transcripts of what was found there - the Gospel of Thomas, The Revelation, the Prophets... At that time, the Essenes, members of a mysterious hermit sect, interpreted as either a splinter of Judaism, or forerunners of early Christianity, were assumed to be among its authors. They lived in Qumran in the hills near the Dead Sea - the manuscripts were found, sealed in clay jars in its caves.  In this interpretation, the Dead Sea Scrolls were connected to another set of ancient pre-Christian manuscripts - the Nag Hammadi library of gnostic texts, presenting a different vision of the spiritual world than traditional Christianity and Judaism. 

By 2025, the official story treats the Essenes as a apocryphal wish of Christians, while fully attributing all Dead Sea Scrolls to the history of Judaism. These manuscripts are now assumed to have been written between 3rd century B.C. and 1st century C.E. Initially, many pastor, priests and Christians were among scholars expertly and painstakingly deciphering, identifying and translating the scrolls. By now, they ae mostly thought to be Jewish.  I'm not Jewish, yet I love them! The whole of the Prophet Isaiah! Intact!  The whole set of ten commandments! Undamaged! These are the most ancient written documents confirming the reality of both Judaism and Christianity.  

The display at the Reagan library showed only eight fragments, without full translations, and I' not write about them all here.  The tiny fragments were accompanied with larger photographs and explanatory notes. They will be shown for three months and return to the darkness of the archives for at east five years - to reduce damage by light. Instead, here's my Dead Sea Scrolls poem, written "in my head" while I was driving back from my poetry feature in Tucson, Arizona. Hence the desert names and imagery... how appropriate for the manuscripts preserved in another desert...

Dead Sea Scrolls in Simi Valley

Harquahala, Salome, and Gold Nugget Drive

crisscross the desert where dust devils slowly swirl

between the arms of Seguro cactus, raised up

in supplication for rain, just a tad of water

from the burning sandy inferno of the sky. 

Charcoal-brown rocky hills surround the arid plain 

like the white sandstone of the Dead Sea.

The Arizona desert transforms into  the bottom

of the ocean, with bunches of ocotillo cactus 

pretending to be kelp. Only the fish are missing.

The pattern is disturbed by the abundance 

of celadon seafoam palo verde trees –

the delicate lace of leaves trembles in the breeze.

Fear. Jesus died. Disciples scattered. Thomas to India.

Joseph of Arimathea to the misty isle of Britons.

Driving through Arizona desert I think of distant arid lands. 

Who remained in the drying Dead Sea Valley

Who climbed sandstone slopes? Who filed clay jars

with manuscripts on papyrus and parchment?

Who densely covered them with ink and wrapped 

in clean white linen, to safely survive millennia?

In the hot, dry desert air we witness a  miracle.

The lifeline of our culture stretches far into the past. 

When a Bedouin goatherd guarding his flock

threw a stone into a cave half-way up the slope,

a cay jar shattered echoing through darkness

reverberating through generations. 

The broken jars held the heart of the West.

When the Dead Sea Scrolls were deciphered,

they moved back the clock of our civilization 

by a thousand years. The complete book of Isaiah. 

The Gospel of Thomas. The oldest Ten Commandments. 

The wisdom of centuries revealed in dark caves.

Today, in Simi Valley, the scattered fragments remind us

about the time of “peace, blessing, glory, joy and a long life 

Of all Children of light… “ We see it, shining brightly, now. 

(c) Maja Trochimczyk, May 2025

The largest of the scrolls survived in over 400 tiny fragments, it is now called 4Q418 and contains wisdom teachings of a "guru" imparting spiritual knowledge on his disciples - "Open the spring of your lips to bless the holy ones, and you, praise in the eternal spring" - this sounds very "new-age-y" for those we versed in the Upanishads and the "spiritual" revelations...  The "YHWH" name does not appear there, so was it truly related to Judaism, or maybe gnostic Christianity, or maybe some other "mystery" religion of secret knowledge? Its deciphering is only possible thanks to the advancement in computer science... As we are all "holy ones" and all come from the one eternal spring of life" - is it not an admonition for all humanity? Blessing is a much more fruitful activity than cursing - after all this is why I do not tolerate the "f" words in any poems I write or publish... 

Another interesting fragment is from the Book of War - the 40-year struggle between Sons of light and Sons of Darkness - an Apocalypsis, if you will ... Are we not embroiled in this ancient battle right now? The quote highlighted at the exhibition stated: "His exalted greatness shall shine eternally to the peace, blessing, glory, joy, and long life of all the Sons of light."  Now, who is this "He" in the text? YHWH? Christ? Messiah?  This manuscript did not become an element in either set of the Holy Scriptures, neither of Judaism nor of Christianity.  Fascinating!

So far, my discussion of the content of the Dead Sea Scrolls was in dualistic terms of either - or ... But I became completely enchanted at a side room of the exhibition where the oldest surviving manuscript of the Ten Commandments was displayed. Written on two sheets of leather, it was found in Cave 4 at Qumran. Not the original - that one already returned to the lightless archives... But each commandment could be highlighted on the screen and then read in English translation. The sound of the ceremonial shofar added to the solemnity of the occasion - facing and examining the timeless rules written for us, so we are forever blessed in our peaceful lives.  From this exhibit, I only too home one haiku, published in the California Quarterly 51, no. 2.

Dead Sea Scrolls unfurl

insights for three millennia - 

"you shall,,, you shall not..." 

 

 

Some of these ancient rules for good living contain promises, as if their fulfillment was too difficult without an extra dose of sugar...  

"Honor your father and your mother, as your lord God has commanded you, that you may long endure and that you may fare well in the land that the lord your God is assigning to you"

Other commandments are terse, and self-evident "you shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal..."  There is no reward written in here, just the bare order - NOT! The same exact rues are found in Buddhism, they are truly universal!

Finally, some rules for good life specified who do these rules pertain to, with the same list appearing in tge exhortation to honor the Sabbath day, and to not covet, not be jealous of everything and anything that belongs to your neighbor. The "social justice" warriors woud not ie that too much, so et me cite it in its entirety - 

"You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, you shall not crave

 your neighbor's house, or his field, or his male or female slave, 

or his ox, or his ass, or anything that is your neighbor's"

Well, in ancient times, it was normal to have "male or female slaves" - people just had to pay attention to their own and do not desire what was not theirs. Now that slavery was abolished, that rule could be somewhat changed - not "slave" but "servant" and not "ox or ass" but his "car"  or "ban account" ...

I left the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibition inspired with this encounter with this divine wisdom for all ages. I definitely will return, for another glimpse of the infinite hidden in scraps of parchment or papyprus, and to learn more about the Jewish history of those tumultuous times.