Wednesday, January 31, 2018

2018 The Year of the Earth Dog

the year of the dog - 
soft fur of Tibetan spaniel
shines on green grass

After all the upheavals and fires of the Fire Rooster Year (2017), we will be able to catch a break in the homey and comfy Earth Dog Year - according to the Chinese Zodiac, at least...  The Year of Earth Dog will start on February 16, 2018 (Chinese New Year) and end on February 4, 2019. This is the eleventh of 12 zodiac signs and the Dog years have been in this century: 1922, 1934, 1946, 1958, 1970, 1982, 1994, 2006, 2018, 2030, 2042... Since the Dog is an "auspicious" animal, it brings good fortune.

Let's welcome the Dog year with some Dog photos and haiku:

gold-furred dog rests
in my sunlit garden - 
happy, healthy, free


amber spaniel eyes
look at me with affection -
love conquers all


can dogs laugh?
dolphins nod in agreement
swimming in circles


a dog rests at my feet
his gold eyes full of promise - 
"my heart beats for you"


Artist Monique Lehman with her dog, Corcia ("little daughter")

angel in a halo
with her favorite friend -
an artist's spring


Since my Chinese Zodiac sign is Rooster and 2017 was the Fire Rooster year, I was hoping for some sunlight, smiles and a feather-light heart. But, instead, this....


The scorched earth, charcoal branches, and days of thick black smoke...  I got a whole lot of upheavals and dangers in 2017, including two huge fires nearby, one evacuation, a series of burglaries, and so forth. . . I came out of it all smiling, so I guess, all these things served to teach me to live with a "feather-light" heart, without worries, no matter how dangerous the situation seems.  It is funny to look, in retrospect at my last year's haiga card with a orange-red rose and my wishes...  We have to be careful what we wish for, I guess...


I have not written many dog-themed poems, though dogs appear in my love poetry book, Rose Always - A Love Story, as they played an important role in the unfolding of this mystery. Here is a sample of dog-themed poems from that book:

Dog Story


My dog ran away 
to bring me 
the man of my life 

a blond one 
like my first love
the
with smiley wrinkles  
like my last one 

(scoundrels both,
as the rest of them)

Are you different?

I cannot tell,
oblivious to all
but your beauty –

Be good, be truthful





A Desert Walk

Your dog welcomes me 
with mad displays of affection, 
overturning things
with his wildly swinging tail.

He brings the leash in his teeth,
ready for a walk, jumping with excitement.

We go out after sunset,
with my collie – beautiful and scared
of this boisterous stranger,
distrustful of his sudden attachment
to the lady of the house.

The blonde dog cannot be leashed
as he chases each cat, each squirrel.

Yet, he returns quickly, faithfully,
to stay right by my side.

I marvel at his obedience.


In a Flemish stained glass window based on a biblical story of Tobias and his unlucky wife Sarah (demons killed seven of her husbands on their wedding night!). Tobias found a fish, burned some of it in the fireplace and sent the demons packing, so the young married couple could rest happily, finally asleep, with their dog at their feet...


Light Centuries 

 by Maja Trochimczyk
                                                         
                                             “Where are the days of Tobias?”
                                                             ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Second Duino Elegy

                                              “Let us grow old both together in health.”
                                                            ~ Sarah in The Book of Tobias, 8: 10

They are asleep
in a Flemish window,
their stained-glass bed
sheltered by curtains
of cerulean and crimson.

Like two doves
in white nightcaps,
Tobias and Sarah
rest on soft, white pillows,
after the nightmare,
dreaming alabaster dreams.

Yes, that was an angel
walking with you
through desert landscape.
Yes, there was a river,
demons, fire, and a fish.
The dog ran along, panting.

He rests with them now,
curled at their feet,
among the riches
of verdant foliage
painted on translucent silk.
The dog – their only witness.

Flames danced at night.
The demon fled the stench
of burning liver.
You did not see Raphael
bind him in upper Egypt.
You did not feel
the rainbow wings.

They found a refuge
in the domesticity
of an ordered life:
candle extinguished
on the nightstand,
slippers waiting
for the step of the master.

Above the bed,
the womb-shaped
knot of a red velvet
curtain foretells
Sarah’s future, the wealth
of children to come.

Listen: Cold wind
carries the echoes
of crying, wailing
through desert fog
outside. Demons
mourn their happiness.

They are asleep.
Fluted columns
twirl up to a ceiling
of gold-flowered
sprites guarding
their glass dreams.

    Listen…

 (c) 2010 by Maja Trochimczyk

NOTE: This ekphrastic poem is based on a 15-th century Flemish stained-glass window.



Dogs become parts of human families and are missed when they are gone. Here's a tribute to a tiny dog named Hazelnut:


HAZELNUT

Somewhere a ballerina was born on Friday,

a trapeze artist, a clown or a juggler with a circle of balls
lined up in the air above her curly head.
A new life began, a life ended.

Somewhere, sometime. We are left with memories
of Orzeszek, Miss Hazelnut of Boston.
She practiced controlled skidding
across lacquered hardwood floors to accelerate
reaching her ball she never tired of bringing back
to be thrown again – delighted with the game
on instant replay. She’d step out for a dinner on town
in her fancy haircut and a red bowtie.

She’d gallop across the vastness of a meadow,
ears flapping in the wind, a picture of freedom.
She’d rest in her favorite hiding spot
under an arch of antique pink roses.

Ever cheerful, she could sleep
on Marcin’s head, on his chest,
tucked under his armpit, full of warmth and comfort.
Courageous, she’d walk across his face
if it were in her way, or lick his nose
in a fit of affection.

Hazelnut, oh, Hazelnut, too curious for new scents,
with oversized paws too fast across the pavement,
in front of the car that did not even break.

Your heart beat quickly; stopped beating too soon.
We are sorry you had to go. We wish you could stay longer.
You left us behind to play in dog heaven.
Farewell, Hazelnut. Don’t forget your ball!

(c) 2014 by Maja Trochimczyk


And here's an eulogy by Just Kibbe for his favorite companion, Loki:

Just Kibbe with Loki in Los Angeles



Thank you Loki for teaching me so many of the magic words. You were many things as the Norse God of Mischief: a hunter, a trickster, a hardcore cuddler, a teacher. I think of you often, and you are running and leaping and licking my face and alive in my heart as you always will be!
                                                                                                                                 ~ Just Kibbe


Just Kibbe's dog, Loki

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

~ From Puck Monologue in Mid-Summer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare

As the official PR dept of Ravendaisy Farm, Loki touched many hearts and went on so many adventures in his 15 years.  On to the next, my love. We love you and miss you and can't wait to meet again.                                              
                                                                                                                        ~ Just Kibbe


Just Kibbe with his dog Loki and a horse

Happy Earth Dog Year 2018! 











Tuesday, January 9, 2018

The Music of Paderewski and Gorecki in Washington, D.C.

Photo by Marcin Szerle.

In early January 2018, I was honored by an invitation to present two Polish composers at the 75th Annual Meeting of the Polish American Historical Association. At the Awards Ceremony held on January 6, 2018 at the Residence of the Ambassador of Poland, Prof. Piotr Wilczek, I discussed "Poland 1918-2018: Remembering Ignacy Jan Paderewski" and quoted many poems written for the great pianist composer. The full text of this speech is reproduced on my Chopin with Cherries blog, so there is no reason to reproduce the whole here.

Vintage postcard of "Improwizacya" - Paderewski playing Chopin. early 1900s.

During, the reading, I was accompanied by Paderewski himself, from a CD of piano roll recordings, played on a modern Steinway, and professionally recorded. The Minuet, Melodie, Legende, and Nocturne written by Paderewski were followed by two Rhapsodies by Franz Liszt, and provided the shifting moods for the recitation of lofty and ardent poems (though a bit old-fashioned to modern ears) written by luminaries of  American culture.

To decorate the stage for my Paderewski and Poland's presentation, I unrolled two piano rolls by Paderewski, one with his portrait and a copy of his signature - and fixed them in place with a box of vintage Paderewski postcards, chocolate gold coins, and some jewels. This was to symbolize the multiple types of "gold" associated with the pianist of "gold-red" hair... and riches collected through his music and given away to charitable and patriotic causes... The piano rolls are very original stage decoration... and you can find lots of them on eBay!


Paderewski piano rolls and vintage postcards- stage setting for the poetry presentation.

 How Paderewski Plays 
by Richard Watson Gilder (1906)


I.
If words were perfume, color, wild desire;
If poet's song were fire
That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;
If with a bird-like trill the moments throbbed to hours;
If summer's rains
Turned drop by drop to shy, sweet, maiden flowers;
If God made flowers with light and music in them,
And saddened hearts could win them;
If loosened petals touched the ground
With a caressing sound;
If love's eyes uttered word
No listening lover e'er before had heard;
If silent thoughts spake with a bugle's voice;
If flame passed into song and cried, "Rejoice, rejoice!"
If words could picture life's hopes, heaven's eclipse
When the last kiss has fallen on dying eyes and lips;
If all of mortal woe
Struck on one heart with breathless blow by blow;
If melody were tears and tears were starry gleams
That shone in evening's amethystine dreams;
Ah, yes, if notes were stars, each star a different hue,
Trembling to earth in dew;
Or, of the boreal pulsings, rose and white,
Made majestic music in the night;
If all the orbs lost in the light of day
In the deep silent blue began their harps to play;
And when, in frightening skies the lightnings flashed
And storm-clouds crashed,
If every stroke of light and sound were excess of beauty;
If human syllables could e'er refashion
that fierce electric passion;
If ever art could image (as were the poet's duty)
The grieving, and the rapture, and the thunder
Of that keen hour of wonder, -
That light as if of heaven, that blackness as of hell, -
How Paderewski Plays than might I dare to tell.


II.
How the great master played! And was it he
Or some disembodied spirit which had rushed
From silence into singing; and had crushed
Into one startled hour a life's felicity,
And highest bliss of knowledge—that all life, grief, wrong,
Turn at the last to beauty and to song!
Paderewski's contacts with Richard Watson Gilder (1844-1909) resulted from the latter's long-lasting friendship with the Polish actress Helena Modrzejewska. Gilder, the editor of the Century Magazine, published numerous volumes of poetry and that many of his poems dealt with other arts, painting, acting, and music.  The Polish pianist became a good friend of the poet, considering Gilder's house to be his "real home during those first years in America." There, Paderewski had the opportunity to meet Mark Twain and Andrew Carnegie, among other members of American societyGilder was also among the first Americans creating the myth of the Archangel Paderewski, a spiritual genius.


For some reason, I have not been able to write anything about Paderewski. I think I have been angry with him for destroying his compositional talent and career to serve a political cause, of restoring Poland's sovereignty. Finally, urged by my colleagues at PAHA, I penned a short ditty:



Maja Trochimczyk recites Paderewski-themed poetry, Photo by Marcin Szerle.
Residence of the Ambassador of Poland, Prof. Wilczek, January 6, 2018.


Paderewski in Gold
 by Maja Trochimczyk (2018)

Gold halo of curls on his portraits
Gold crowns of Polish kings above his keyboard
Gold riches in his bank account
Gold heart beneath it all
 
The gleam of a gold ring on his finger
The gleam of brilliance in his eyes
The gleam of fame bright around him
Gold heart beneath it all

The dream of making music in his youth 
The dream of happiness at his prime
The dream of free Poland on concert stages
Gold heart beneath it all

Made of gold, making gold, pure gold
of  kindness - Paderewski  the immortal 
asks us to love music, love Poland 
and to always follow his noble path of gold
January 6, 2018
(c) 2018 by Maja Trochimczyk


Maja Trochimczyk reciting Paderewski-themed poems, photo by Marcin Szerle.
Residence of Poland's Ambassador, Prof. Wilczek, Washington, D.C. January 6, 2018.


My second presentation was a paper on "The Myth of the Third Symphony: Gorecki in California" presented on January 5, 2018 during a PAHA session on Americans on Poland. I I discuss this presentation and my "Gorecki in Context" book on the Moonrise Press Blog.

Photo by Marcin Szerle

The presentation focused on the performance history of the Third Symphony Symphony of Sorrowful Songs (composed in 1976, world-famous since the Nonesuch recording of 1992, and conducted by Gorecki himself in Los Angeles).  The author organized his visit and ensured that the composer, who was not thrilled about metropolitan performances, but rather interested in small-town ambience of "ordinary people" was comfortable and able to express his unique musical vision.  Among other aspects of the Third Symphony, its use of the lullaby as an expressive and melodic model was pointed out and illustrated by singing the Polish lullabies. 

The lullabies are characterized with limited melodic outlines, reduced to three or two notes, slow repeated motion, that may be associated with rocking a baby to sleep. The step-wise semitonal motion in Bzi-bzi-bzibziana is cited in the strings in the opening of the Third Movement of the Third Symphony. It is the same rocking motion that underlies the movement of trauma victims, calming themselves by rocking back and forth, to recover from shock by returning to the state of ultimate comfort, being held in the mother's arms. The same slow, steady motion is of walking in a funeral procession - these associations co-exist in a unique way drawing from universal human archetypes, to form a music that appeals to everyone, everywhere... 

Photo by Marcin Szerle






Friday, December 22, 2017

After the Solstice - Happy Holidays and Best Wishes

shadows and light-rays
intertwined in a lace 
of togetherness

Sometimes we have to pass through the nadir of darkness to emerge into light, on the other side... We had our share of stressful events here in Southern California this year,  the Year of Total Eclipse, especially recently, with the La Tuna Fire in September and the Creek Fire in December. Both fires devastated our open spaces, hillside habitat, and destroyed quite a few houses, too.  Sadly, lots of animals died in both fires, and some animals moved: sighting of bobcats increased in our neighborhood since La Tuna Fire, probably because they lived in Verdugo Hills, covered with green bushes and trees even in the driest of summers, with lots of water and shade and food for the beautiful and dangerous cats...

through ash, through dead leaves
in search of a new home 
a bobcat walks

But then, there is light that casts no shadow, and shines straight in us, through us. I wish all of us, poets, and poetry lovers, to revel in such unique, clear, uplifting light on the holy days and through the next year. Let it be the Year of Light, the Year of peace and beauty.  I wish you all happiness and blessings. I wish...

a new world -
petals open and fade
my rose blossoms

Words have a lot of power and we know that what we say makes an imprint on reality, not only on the internal life, but also the reality around. How many people remember a harsh word, a label, a slur, from their childhood? How many words did we utter we'd rather not, in hindsight?  How many people curse others only have that curse reflected by the mirror of the Universe and came down upon them in unexpected and unexplained calamity? Or, the opposite, how many times do we say something sweet and nice, and a couple of hours later hear these lovely worlds reflected back to us, from someone different?
With Susan Rogers, the giver of Light, November 11, 2017

The Spiritual Quartet in an Easter Garden (Susan Rogers, Lois P. Jones, Ambika Talwar)

Someone sent me the following "decree" of St. Germain - from a fascinating collection of life-changing, and inspirational texts that are more orders, telling the world what it should be like, than prayers, begging for help... I like them a lot, and this one, in particular is a good choice to start, given the Polish background - in Poland, complaining is a national sport! 

“BELOVED MIGHTY I AM PRESENCE”! You stand guard over my tongue, and never let me speak words of criticism, condemnation, judgment, or blame of any person, place, condition, or thing! Reach down Your Hand and withdraw all substance of criticism, condemnation, judgment, blame, or other human qualities with which I have charged into my being and world! Consume it all in The Cosmic Violet Consuming Flame and Saint Germain’s Spiral Blue Flame; then Stand Guard and see that I do not requalify any more of Your Pure Energy flowing through my being and world. "ALMIGHTY I AM”! (3)

Let us, then, use our words wisely, to the benefit of our own en-Light-enment and for the illumination of the world around us. Let us be the candles in the windows, the stars that shine bright up high. Let us radiate pure joy, peace, and tranquility. Let us fill our  hearts with the love that forgives all and understands all, and does not need to say anything, for it is, just is, always is and will be, as it never dies and never changes. And So Be It and So It Is...

Here are my Christmas and New Year Wishes for 2018:

Scarlet - for loving heart
Emerald - for peaceful mind
Diamond - for clear insight
Here are the rose jewels for
Happy Holidays and New Year! 


I spent some time with my poetry books this year, updating two books, and working on things that are still unfinished. For those who would like to see what  I have written, here are the links and covers:

















Thursday, November 9, 2017

On Oaks, Maples, Gold Leaves and Angel Wings


When you travel you try to be in two places at the same time, where you live and where you are a guest. The timelines split and you enter the wonderful country of what if... 

Ujazdowski Park in Warsaw, Maple Tree.

In my recent travels to Poland I spent some days in Warsaw, walking through its wonderful parks, admiring the ancient trees, and then a week in Krakow, where the Old Town is surrounded by Planty - a park built in place of city walls and its moat.


In Warsaw I visited the Orthodox cemetery where my parents are buried. They both loved picking leaves in the park on Sundays in autumn. And the trees around the tombstones are full of birds singing, talking to each other... And the breeze flutters in the treetops... And it is quiet, and tranquil, and all is well...A place of reflection and rest. No wonder Poles especially Polish widows spend so much time in cemeteries!


and here we are
with bouquets of bronze leaves
timeless in sunlight


I spent most of Sunday and Monday  in October wandering around my beloved Warsaw - Pola Mokotowskie (Pilsudski Park) and Park Ujazdowski with the Paderewski Monument, and the Old Town, were the highlights of course....

striped with shadows
gold oak leaves get ready
for winter

I called those leaves "real oak leaves" and my son said, what do you mean, Mom, so California oaks are not real? Not in the same way, to me. Of course beautiful, especially when you see them, dark green and perfectly shaped, outlined against the gold grass... but the colors are reversed in Poland where the grass is always green (or covered with snow) and oaks reach for the glory of the Sun in their majestic golds and bronzes... 

no, we will not go -
said the leaves on one oak tree
in November


my oak leaves
turn sunny gold and bronze 
before first snowfall   

a blur of gold leaves
waits for the chilling wind - 
end of summer

so above as below
gold on the ground,  gold in the sky - 
last days of autumn

all made of gold -
I drink pure sunlight 
at noon

red, bronze and gold 
paint steps into bareness - 
last days of freedom

I witness it all - 
tragedies and joys pass  by  
under my branches

my path of treasures
no time to pick them all - 
an autumn rainbow


do leaves exist for
branches or branches for leaves?
there's no answer


many winters
one war after another -
the one to last

maple bright, maple right
paints the blue sky 
day and night

gold maple leaves  - 
uncounted on twisted branches,
explained by sunlight

Apparently at the end of the 19th century Krakow had such bad climate, it was Poland's capital for tuberculosis and other respiratory diseases, so the City Council made a bold decision, protested by many, including the famous painter Jan Matejko. But history had to give in to health, and the walls were taken out, moats were filled and trees planted, now ancient and surrounding the city with a beautiful green or gold ring. . .



Autumn Wings

A blue-winged pink angel
landed on my desk with a flutter, left one
soft white feather and disappeared
with a smile suspended in mid-air
like the Cheshire Cat.

I’m Alice in Wonderland,
as I wander and wonder,
bewildered by the beauty
of gold leaves under my feet,
mystique of sunrays piercing the fog
patiently filling spaces between 
church towers and ancient 
maple trees receding into silence.

Swish – swish –  the angel’s wings
above me. Swish – swish – 
crumbling leaves mark every step
as I walk through the golden park – 
its beauty unnoticed by passersby
rushing to appointments, parties.
Yet, this glory will sustain us.
This is what is – I stop to breathe in 
the scent of autumn leaves 
and last pale roses faintly disappearing 
into the silence of sleep

marked by the flutter of wings, 
blue wings of my brown-eyed angel.
Shy, demure, he looks down at his feet,
bare toes sticking out under  the pink  robe.
Oh, what delightful noise they would make
when he walked between the massive 
oaks, shrouded by the evening mist

swish – swish – swish  –
now and forever
swish –swish – swish – 


September in Krakow, 2017




And now, that we are in angelic realms, let's read one more angelic poem:

     Just One Secret

      Are you born of untold darkness?
      Are you a child of light?

     When was the last time
     you saw an angel in Hollywood?
     Awesome, majestic,
     dressed in light and ten feet tall?
     With rainbow wings
     perhaps, and a diamond crown?

     This gentle brightness
     is here to guide you
     hover above, guard your back - 
     It casts no shadow so you see
     clearly each turn and pitfall
     on your path.

     This is no faith, no hope,
     just plain knowledge - 
     look all around you,
     open your eyes -

    There is one beside the Superman
    another one above Snow White
    with too much makeup 
    Batman goes hand in hand  
    with his invisible winged twin

    An archangel watches over
    Darth Vader n a tattered cloak
    (in case the light saber is real)
    and a clown cannot shake off
    a flock of putti that giggle
    while pulling on his top hat.

    Cherubs, Seraphim
    with six wings, halos - 
    pure, luminescent
    dazzling and brilliant

    they simply ARE!





There is yet another "angel" poem that I posted here in December 2015 after coming back from Paris, "An Invitation to the Dance" (see http://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2015/12/on-polish-christmas-in-paris-at-notre.html). It was officially published in the Altadena Poetry Review 2016, and then reprinted in the Poetry and Dance II anthology in 2017.  It will also appear in the new version of Rose Always - A Love Story, where it belongs.