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... I think I'll place it in the California Quqarterly.

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.

 

Happy New Year 2022 - Water Tiger Year with Haiku Poets

 Lovely haiga - photos or art with haikus - sent in by members of Southern California Haiku Study Group were presented on Zoom on Sunday, January 2,2022 in a presentation hosted by Debbie P Kolodji.  It was a delight and a meeting of friends, some from Southern California, Los Angeles, Orange and San Diego County, others from Northern California and the East Coast.  Debbie brought us all together, created a delightful PowerPoint presentation of haiga riches, and led us through the reading. At the end, she collected ideas for more meetings in person...I'm inviting poets to Big Tujunga Wash in May and June for a walk amongst the towering white Yucca Whipplei flowers, a delight for us tiny Liliputs in the valley of giants... 

So much good poetry, but I only have photos of my own... I looked up what kind of Chinese Year are we going to have and saw Black Water Tiger - so I looked for a stripy photo to match, and found one from Redondo Beach, taken during the Christmas walk with kids and grandkids, some of them, anyway....

Then, I thought I should celebrate the fruitfulness and abundance of the coming year, so our focus is positive and full of trust in the great future we are expecting and will see happening.  I just ate my very last pomegranate I saved for the new year. I kept it on the tree until January 1, and took the photo in mid-December when the gold leaves were still on the tree... 

The pomegranate was rich, almost amaranth in shade, dark burgundy wine hue, or .... pomegranate, bursting with tart sweetness on my tongue.... I wrote many pomegranate poems, the most recent one will be published in California Quarterly 48 no. 1, so here's The Aril from the past:

The Aril

“Aril” is the word for me. 

Not “arid” – as in the desert of wasted years, hours.

Not “arduous” – as in working so hard every day

to make ends meet. These ends, they never meet, anyway.

Just aril. As in my garden at noon. As in ruby-bright 

pomegranate shining in full sunlight. A jewel bowl of arils 

I pick from exploded fruit to freeze for winter. A handful 

of overripe arils that taste rejuvenating, like fine wine.

Tartly-sweet juice stains my fingers burgundy-red – 

or should I say, aril-red?

Oh, the delight of untold riches!

You watch me blissfully chew the seeds

and say in disbelief: “You eat them whole? Really?

When I was a boy, my brother told me that

trees would grow out of my ears if I swallowed 

pomegranate seeds – huge trees would grow 

and grow and grow and grow…”

We laugh at the vision of these arid, forgotten years.

It was an arduous journey that took us through 

the wilderness to this vivid moment of sharing 

this magic, life-giving nectar of arils, 

ruby-red arils.

(c) Maja Trochimczyk, 2021

Last week, as I was driving through our astounding mountains with Ian, my youngest son visiting from Texas, I wrote a poem about what surprised me the most - the river of gold leaves, ash, cottonwood, poplar - at the bottom of the canyon, meandering between steep hillsides - walls of cracking rocks, charcoal-dark from the rain, and sparse dried out bushes... We were driving too fast to take any photos, I'd have to climb half way up the slopes to catch a good view, anyway... 

Here's a photo with Ian from the "Black Water Tiger" beach portrayed above.

Here's my older son's family with my youngest granddaughter, one of them, Aurelia

And here's my second youngest granddaughter, Juniper with her parents, her uncle and grandma.

Andherewe are in Costa Mesa Oso Park, with brand new Snoopy...  

This morning, a haiku summarizing that experience, the contrast of lovely, flowing gold and charcoal crumbling into nothingness appeared out of nowhere. Then, I went for a walk to find some gold leaves -  there were quite a few, from liquid amber, mulberry, poplar, cottonwood, ash, and some other trees that I do not know the names of... Here's the end result - extra leaves as  the background. I actually found all hues of yellow, orange and red, or should I say Napes, Chrome and Imperial Yellows, Gold, Gamboge, Saffron, Amber, Minium, and Ginger, Vermilion, Scarlet, Hematite, Dragon's blood, all the way to Tyrian purple, Archil, russet, Sepia, and Umber... I know the names of these colors now, because I got a new book for Christmas, The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair. So vivid, so brilliant!

May your year of Water Tiger be vivid and brilliant -

full of joy, serenity, gratitude and creativity. 

Happy New Year 2022 to everyone!

The Year of the Fire Monkey, the Year of Burning Bright

What is the brightest light? What is that burning, burning, burning bright in the silence of the night?
Not the Fire Monkey, not yet ... For the start of the Chinese Zodiak Year we have to wait to February 8, 2016. Officially we are still in the year of the Goat, after the years of Horse, Snake, Dragon, Rabbit, and Tiger, the last one back in 2010.

purple highlights

cutout the brilliance painted

on the black

The Tiger

William Blake

Tiger Tiger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

I find not-so-fearful symmetry in the burning melting golden leaves of the liquid amber tree, so similar to the maple, yet so different, with its colors from pale yellow, through orange, to scarlet, bronze and black purple.

the tree stretches

his leafy fingers to the sun

begging for light

In contrast, the symmetry of the cactus is quite fearful, indeed.  Imagine falling on all those pricks and needles!  That would not have been as comfortable as it might look, the barrels of cactus resembling puffy pillows...

a noon illusion -

spheres of  the softest velvet 

in the field of cactus

call of the Wild West -

bewitched by the turquoise sky

gold of the cactus

Some cactus fields at the Huntington Garden look sinister, ominous, as underwater seabeds, or twisted masses of snakes. Snakes with thorns, and evil teeth, straight from a Halloween movie set...

sea anemones

with spiky hairdos on the rocks

of Gibraltar

horror of horrors -

the twisted mass of nail-toothed limbs

engulfs me

a grey mutant rose

the agave opens its steel spiked petals

to pierce the light 

where are thou, 

my crocodile of sharp teeth

tears lying in wait? 

cactus flowers

stretch their scarlet tongues like flames 

licking the white light

But all horrors pass, and so does the cactus garden ... I walk through a meadow to one of the most astounding and majestic trees I have ever seen, an eucalyptus reaching high, high, high into the sky.  If I were a monkey, maybe I'd be able to climb up its smooth trunk. I can only look up from the ground, admire the multicolored bark.  Imported from Australia, it lives in a foreign landscape. 

tree bark canvas

records droughts and storms

of centuries

above cough drops

eucalyptus leaves stretch up 

to perfume the sky

A Tree Epiphany

 ~ for Kristin who saw a whale in a tree

I want the solid serenity of trees
the sighs of their boughs in the wind

roots reaching to the core of the earth

An oak perhaps, or a grand plane tree

that majestic one in Descanso Gardens

a whale of the tree, floating on waves of air

I could be, perhaps, that regal eucalyptus

with multicolored bark  — a canvas for centuries

shedding memories of droughts and storms

Or liquid amber, oh my liquid amber

melting gold and bronze at my feet

nourishing the roots, seeds, new leaves

Wait for the sleeping earth to awaken

the boughs sigh in the northern wind

the roots reach deeper, still deeper

I adore the trembling of birches in the breeze,

whispering: quiet, quiet, now listen  — before

leaves fall, bare branches shiver in the snow

Am I an apple tree, comely and fruitful

in an abandoned orchard by the crossroads

that shyly offers gifts to all passers-by?

I want the serenity of trees

to fill my heart with their sighs, with their

whispers, with their sleep.

(c) 2016 by Maja Trochimczyk

she said it's a whale

this grand plane tree with white bark

swimming in the air

with spotted whale's skin

half dove-grey, half steel, charcoal 

the plane tree stands tall 

I end the walk, admiring the symmetry of rose petals, and their burning flame in the afternoon sun.

symmetry of petals - 

an incandescent rose flame

mirrors the sun

What a delight it is, and so much hard work of "rosarians" had gone into crafting the perfect rose flame, a rainbow of yellows, tangerines, and fuchsias ... It is a living flame of love, as St. John of the Cross would say... 

I too have my perfect multicolor rose, mostly yellow, with touches of apricot and plum. The last survivor of the blight caused by weedkiller accidentally added to the soil...

gold petals unfold

the day fades into shadows - 

my last winter rose

I picked the photograph and wrote the haiku for this haiga to give it out as a gift at the annual Southern California Haiku Study Group post-New Year party at Debbie Kolodji's welcoming house. A rose filled with light, yet speaking of shadows seemed a perfect choice for the year of the Fire Monkey. No, I could not write about monkeys, not even Shakespeare's Monkeys...

As a vain and energetic "Fire Rooster" I have great hopes for the year of the Fire. I will end this tour of the Huntington with a selfie among fuchsia and violet flowers. May your year of the Fire Monkey flower with positive energy and creativity! 

Happy New Year 2016!