On Irony and Love Songs with Grapefruit and Pomegranate

Some people… wrap themselves in a thick blanket of irony of sarcasm and greet every expression of sentiment or affection with a sneer. We’ve all seen our share of these tough guys and gals, who curse or ridicule every expression of what really matters. “How banal, how boring!” they say, when they hear a sweet love poem, like the one below (first published in the Emerging Urban Poets 2010 Calendar). I remember, I was like that, too, deeply wounded and hiding my pain under a mask of worldly indifference. There was no hope, no future, only the reward for work done in the present. All love declarations I heard were a gigantic lie. The Universe was wrong, all around me. We lived in Hell. Or so I thought.  In my new life vision the Hell part has been upgraded to the level of Purgatory, the place of atonement, relentless testing, endless life exams. Yet, there is hope, there is love, and there are glimpses of Heaven.

The concept of “irony” (from the Greek term εἰρωνεία eirōneía, “pretended ignorance”) is a great invention of romantic heroes, starting from Lord Byron, who protected their vulnerability with an armor of disaffection, finding themselves alienated from the whole world. It still is a useful literary device, but why is it wrong to be ironic in life? To spend your life so well armored, that no real emotion may pierce it? That’s exactly why. This separation from others, this distance, alienation, is the plunge of the soul into the emptiness of a spiritual void. Ugly things become possible: indifference, cruelty, unwillingness to help others, to care for anyone at all, but your own career goals or physical comfort. 

I was going to say I “hate” irony but that’s not true, I do not hate anything, nor anyone. I have pity instead. I consciously cultivate in myself an ability to be filled with love and compassion for everyone. (Do I fail in that? Of course, but it is not giving up that matters…) The moral choice of refusing to be ironic, in life or art, may have unpleasant consequences. Some “real” poets would think me silly, and my love poetry sappy and trite, as I happily write a next sweet line while listening to the rich mezzosoprano of Patsy Cline or Ella Fitzgerald, warm as liquid honey: “I’ll be loving you… always… with the love that’s true… always….” 

These words were once addressed to a real person, just as my encounter in the garden really happened… but I don’t think we need to know such details, to feel refreshed and nourished by love.

The bitter-sweet pink grapefruit and the baby pomegranates from my garden are a perfect illustration of our topic for today.

A Portrait in Brackets

               “… you promise eternity almost, from the embrace.”

                     Reiner Maria Rilke, The Second Elegy, Duino Elegies

I love every hair on your head

every wrinkle, the round scar

in the middle of your forehead

like Cain’s mark – you are

the chosen one, the untouchable

The little freckles on your nose

shine – endearing, childlike

It was supposed to be

summertime when they came

Here’s summer all the time, already

My love stirs for your full, half-open lips

waiting for my kisses, as I caress

the sharp contours of your cheeks –

I hold them in my cupped hands

looking straight into your eyes

There is no world

only us and the birdsong

at noon in my garden

I love the quiet confidence

of your fingers, skillful hands

like my father’s – solid, able

to fix things, take care of me

I touch your skin, tracing a line

down the nose, soft lips, and chin

I brush against the prickles

of your goatee, before reaching

a sweet spot on your neck

Below your shoulders, under

the smoothness of hard muscles

the bell of your heart welcomes me

The blood sings in your veins, love

surges towards me – I do I do I do

I rest my head on your chest

and listen to your heart

that beats and beats and never

stops playing the music 

© 2009 by Maja Trochimczyk. Published in 2010 Calendar, Emerging Urban Poets, Pasadena.

A Lesson for My Daughter

After a ruby-colored glass of Merlot

I told my daughter the secret of the Universe.

I solved it at noon, by the river

Questions, as I thought, do not matter

The right answers to life are “Yes”

And “I Love You”

If you build a circle of “Yes” all around

Affirming who you really are

You will be safe

If you say “I Love You” to everyone

near you –  very quietly, so they can’t hear

but you know

You will walk in a sphere of gladness

That no insult or curse

May pierce

You will find yourself hidden deeply

Where love blossoms, laughter bubbles

And joy overflows

© 2006 by Maja Trochimczyk 

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This article and two poems are published in the June issue of The Voice of the Village.

Photos from my garden - grapefruit and pomegranate.