Wednesday, February 1, 2023

So Nice to Be Thanked - Village Poets, State Senator Portantino, CSPS...

Senator Portantino, Maja Trochimczyk, Sharmagne Leland St. John and William Scott Galasso
January 29, 2023, Bolton Hall Museum. Photo by Declan Floyd.

After 12 years of service to the Village Poets of Sunland Tujunga, organizing the group's Monthly Poetry Readings at Bolton Hall and on Zoom, publishing anthologies, managing the website and the blog, inviting poets and artists, and preparing the annual Independence Day Parade, it is time to call it quits. I have another organization to manage now, California State Poetry Society that I have been the President of since 2019. I also serve as the Managing Editor of the California Quarterly, editor of the CSPS Poetry Letter appearing quarterly in PDF and online formats, and Chair of the Annual Poetry Contests. Plenty to do in the poetry world! 

My last event was the Monthly Reading at Bolton Hall Museum in Tujunga, held on January 29, 2023, with two amazing Featured Poets, Sharmagne Leland St. John and William Scott Galasso.  State Senator Anthony Portantino came in person to distribute his Certificates of Appreciation for the two features and my volunteer work, and to read two of his poems, filled with alliteration and wit, present already in their titles: "From Lummis to Hummus." It is always great to have a politician who cares for the arts and supports artistic endeavors, so all poets cherish the talents and support of Senator Portantino. So lovely! And, alas, so rare... 


The Senator and his Field Representative Declan Floyd were kind enough to write a lovely and long congratulations message:


The Senator wrote: "On behalf of the California State Senate, I join the Sunland-Tujunga community in thanking you for your tremendous contributions to the literary arts in the 25th District over more than a decade. Your works in writing, editing and sharing poetry have inspired a new generation of Village Poets. I commend you for your commitment to sharing ideas and building community bonds through the beauty of language. Best wishes on all your future endeavors!" 

At the reading, while serving as the MC, I read two of my own poems, "Moving to California" haibun that recently appeared in the Red Paper Parasols, an anthology of Southern California Study Group that I helped publish (cover design and layout). The second poem was "Gifts" from my Bright Skies book of 2022. 

I made the cover and layouts for the Southern California Haiku Study Group Anthology for 2022,  featuring the lovely photo taken by Maher McArthur in Japan. Since Deborah P Kolodji agreed to edit the California Quarterly Vol. 48, No. 4 for me, I decided to help her out when my assistance was requested. I also have some haiku and one haibun published in that volume. It was a real pleasure to work with Marcyn Clements, the editor of the haibun section, on making sure that my haibun describing my travel from Poland to California, and from imitations and artifice to reality of life. She encouraged me to add onomatophoeia and specific bird names to make the text more lively. What was most important was the last line in the haiku unchanged through these transformation, "a feather-light heart" - an image from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, where the heart is weighted against a feather to see if the person deserved spiritual awards in the afterlife... 

Moving to California

Long ago, in a gray cement apartment block in Warsaw, Poland, I collected painted birds, carved in wood by local folk artists. Then, I crossed the ocean with my wooden flock. In Montreal, birds came alive, as I watched red-winged blackbirds singing away on telephone lines outside my 3rd story window.  Ca-roooouge - they called out their French name, Carouge à épaulettes. 

Now, in my California garden, gold and ruby feathers sparkle in morning sunrays. Fierce hummingbirds bravely guard their cups of sugar water. The mourning dove marks the hours with the insistence of a cuckoo in an old Alpine clock - You go! You - whooo, who. House finches teach their young to sing, but poor babies cannot go past the first ti- ti- ti. Western bluebirds fill the air with breathless chatter: Do you know? Do you know? Yes, yes, yes. We are here, here, here. Shifting phrases of birdsong announce visitors. Ca-rooouge, Ca-rooouge - the winter blackbirds that followed me from Montreal, went home for the summer. A brilliant yellow oriole nibbles on green grapes under the pristine azure dome of the sky.

           the flutter of wings

interrupts my thoughts –

a feather-light heart 



 Bright Skies. Selected Poems is a book of poems written and collected for my two grand-daughters when they grow up, Juniper and Aurelia, both born in September 2021, four days apart. Michael Escoubas recently wrote a very lovely review of this book for Quill and Parchment (February 2023), and I'm grateful for his kindness and praise, and also grateful that he picked one of my favorite poems from the book to include in the review. It was not published yet, when I read it on Sunday, as my poetic "Swan song" for Village Poets activities.

Gifts


 …the necklace of songs, that you take as a gift
                                       ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I gather sunlight
in my palms
to save for later
when it’s dark outside
and hope seems lost.

My hands are full
of brightness.
I gingerly carry
the tangle of sunrays
in a procession of gifts,
down the aisle.

  I gather sunlight

to keep close

to my heart,

and warm us

through cold

winter nights

with a rich glow

of sunfire.




At the end of the reading, I was surprised with thanks from other Village Poets. Joe DeCenzo presented a certificate of appreciation from Congressman Adam Schiff, and listed my achievements, that included inviting, scheduling and promoting on the blog events over 12 years with 144 poets and artists, creating and hosting the Zoom event series for the 2.5 years of the pandemic (that as Joe said saved the Village Poets from falling apart), decorating the Poets' Convertible for at least 10 Independence Day Parades, and more. He did not forget to mention that the idea of group photos at the end of each reading was also mine and that getting poets to pose for these was like herding cats...


Of the featured poets who presented their work at our Monthly Readings since 2010, 82  authors submitted their work to We Are Here: Village Poets Anthology that I co-edited with Marlene Hitt in 2020, to celebrate 10 years of VP Monthly Readings. Joe did not forget other anthologies associated with Village Poets that I edited over the years: Chopin with Cherries (with work by Marlene Hitt), and Meditations on Divine Names (with work of his, Elsa Frausto, Dorothy Skiles, and Marlene). Yes, it has been a pleasure publishing poems written by members of the Village Poets group and I hope to continue doing so in the future.

In her presentation, Sunland-Tujunga Poet Laureate, Alice Pero, praised my most recent anthology, Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdom, illustrated with beautiful paintings of Ambika Talwar and consisting of work by 12 talented poets who all wrote poems about the good things in life, things to be joyous about and thankful for. She decided to read one poem I wrote after a walk in the Big Tujunga Wash, that her garden overlooks and I see over the fences of my neighbors across the street.  Being so close to such a gorgeous tract of wilderness and still being in Los Angeles is one of the delightful secrets of our City of Angels. 


Alchemy in the Hills

Rarefied air opens up to reveal 
rocks in the mountain stream,
scattered sparks of reflected sunrays, 
shimmering golden waves of water 
spreading in circles from where
I stand on thick grains of sand. I watch 
a wild sunflower unfurl its petals.
I smile at the aerial acrobatics of sparrows, 
orioles and the small yellow-gray
birds of unknown names. The scents
 of white sage and sumac fill the valley, 
ringing with the buzz of a myriad of 
bees  hovering about cotton-ball arrays 
of wild buckwheat. It is not much,
but it is enough: rock, sand, and leaf enough.

Children’s laughter flows towards me 
from another wading pool, upstream. 
They splash and laugh, laugh and splash, 
amused by every droplet. I rest in
the center of my universe, at a still point 
of my turning world, where all elements—
 air, rock, sand, water, sunfire—
merge into one blessing of being here, 
sharing this space, this time with
children’s laughter, with lily-white yucca
 blossoms stretching to the sky,
 and a single blade of grass guarding
its spot between stones on the creek shore.

 

Huge bouquets of flowers followed, presented by Pamela Shea and Marlene Hitt, but I was most delighted with a special gift from Marlene Hitt, our founder and the moving force of poetry in the Foothills.  She made a series of posters, using photographs of me reading poems since my "crowning" as Poet Laureate in 2010, of the anthology, and of the Village Poets readings. She also wrote a very touching tribute, which I am delighted to share:



Marlene's set of "thank you, Maja" posters is so cute that I'm including their photos below. She also gave me a costume jewelry set of very gold hue, an inheritance from her mother. I'm sure I'll find a poetry event to wear these to.... These expressions of gratitude from someone who has done so much by herself, was the most touching. 

Poets and Village Poets logo

Presentation of Lifetime Achievement Award to Marlene and Lloyd Hitt, Dorothy Skiles in the back.

Village Poets at the Passing of the Laurels ceremony for Pamela Shea

A postcard and an outfit at the Independence Day Parade in 2011

End of term as Poet Laureate in 2012 and a performance with musician for ST Neighborhood Council, Marlene added a photo of my granddaughter Juniper in holiday outfit looking at her Babcia...

More events- Independence Day Parades, and roses.

With Cile Borman and Village Poets Anthology and with Joe DeCenzo at the Passing of the Laurels ceremony of 2010.

A collage of Village Poets events collected and assembled by Marlene

More Village Poets event photos assembled by Marlene Hitt.

So thank you Village Poets for the fun I had over the past 12 years, organizing over 120 readings, managing the Zoom events during the pandemic, and interacting with so many talented poets and artists.  Thank you!

Poets at the end of the Village Poets Reading on January 29, 2023, Bolton Hall Museum

OTHER THINGS TO BE GRATEFUL FOR

It is nice to be appreciated - I have had quite a nice collection of kind words recently. 

My Christmas mail included two very nice cards from my Board members at California State Poetry Society. Maura Harvey (Editor of the California Quarterly) wrote: "Really appreciate your terrific organizational skills, perseverance, and loyalty. CSPS is so fortunate to have you, Maja as prez!" Richard and Susan Deets (Richard is Vice President for Membership): "Thank you for the wonderful job you are doing as President of CSPS. We look forward to many exciting years to come under your leadership." I will have more time for CSPS, its California Quarterly and its Poetry Letter, as well as for publishing books and working on research papers on music history, my original avocation, neglected when I had dedicated so much time to local poetry scene. I already left Poets on Site, Westside Women Writers and now Village Poets groups. The day has 24 hours and there is never enough time to do everything one wants to do. 

Bouquet of white, red and yellow roses from Pam Shea.

I had an extraordinarily busy year with multiple publications and projects.  First, I decided to collect my positive poetry and assembled a volume of 85 poems illustrated with 160 photographs of nature entitled "Bright Skies. Selected Poems." The collection was praised in reviews by Marlene Hitt, and William Scott Galasso.   https://moonrisepress.com/bright-skies--trochimczyk.html
Joe DeCenzo, Elzbieta Czajkowska, Susan Dobay, Maja Trochimczyk and Bory Thach at the closing of the Sky Garden exhibition, reading from Crystal Fire anthology, November 20, 2022. Paintings by Ambika Talwar in the background. 

Second, I selected 12 poets to contribute to a new anthology of positive poetry entitled "Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdom" and including 144 poems by 12 poets: Elzbieta Czajkowska, Joe DeCenzo, Mary Elliott, Jeff Graham, Marlene Hitt, Frederick Livingston, Alice Pero,  Allegra Silberstein, Jane Stuart, Ambika Talwar, Bory Thach, and my own. The spectacular cover art and paintings to start each section are by poet Ambika Talwar, a talented painter and poet.

https://moonrisepress.com/crystal-fire-anthology.html

Poet Bory Thach, included in the anthology and participating in the readings, shared the following comment about the book and readings: "I really appreciate everything that you do for the arts, especially how you strive to be fair and include everyone through well-deserved recognition.  It's great to be surrounded by such positive poets with a wide variety of perspectives and insights that can be shown through their poetry.  Being a writer I always try to learn something from every artist that I meet.  The best part about our group is that I get to read amazing works by different authors, experience their views as well as fresh images and new ways of looking at the world.  As a result, I have the privilege of gaining valuable knowledge and wisdom.  All because I encountered so many poetic pieces as your editor.  I'm just grateful to be able to take away at least one thing every time I open a book.  It is like a step closer to enlightenment!"

Thank you, Bory! It is always good to be appreciated. 

Reading from "Bright Skies" in front of Talwar's paintings and her photos 
at the opening of the Sky Garden Exhibition in October 2022.

Third, Ambika's paintings from "Crystal Fire" and my photographs from Bright Skies gave rise to an exhibition entitled "Sky Garden" and held at the Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia in October and November 2022. The exhibition, curated by Susan Dobay, presented just 12 paintings and 12 photographs, but gave rise to a series of events, two poetry readings from the books, on October 16 and November 20, 2022. The exhibition was also visited by singer, guitarist and song-writer Piotr Kajetan Matczuk of Poland, who gave there a mini-concert. 

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/09/moonrise-press-and-scenic-drive-gallery.html

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/11/sky-garden-exhibition-closing-on.html

Maja Trochimczyk with Piotr Matczuk at Sky Garden Exhibition, 5 November 2022

Fourth, I was commissioned by the National Fryderyk Chopin Institute of Poland to write a scholarly article for publication in the Studia Chopinowskie research journal on the topic related to Maria Szymanowska (1789-1831), an eminent pianist and composer, and an important fore-runner of Chopin.  I decided to write about the handwritten patriotic songbooks found in the archives of Museum Adama Mickiewicza in the Polish Library in Paris that were written by two of Szymanowska's children, her daughter Helena Malewska and son Romuald Szymanowski. I had earlier written on Szymanowska's patriotic songs in the collection of Historical Chants (Spiewy Historyczne) by Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz and had noticed these small notebooks while reviewing Szymanowska-related documents in the Polish Library in 2015. Since this paper is yet to be published, I will not discuss its content here, except to say it presents an important aspects of preserving Polish culture and traditions in the homes during the partitions and even in the heart of the Russian Empire. 

Archival Materials related to Maria Szymanowska at the Polish Library in Paris

Tuesday, December 6, 2022

12 Poets in "Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdom" edited by Maja Trochimczyk

 

Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy & Wisdom

 ISBN 978-1-945938-57-3 (color hardcover)

 ISBN 978-1-945938-58-0 (color paperback)

 ISBN 978-1-945938-59-7 (eBook) 

https://moonrisepress.com/crystal-fire-anthology.html

It has been a real pleasure and a joy to gather poems, edit the anthology, and organize events to promote this collection of positive poetry in our chaotic times. Illustrated with paintings by Ambika Talwar, the “Crystal Fire” anthology gathers poems of joy and wisdom by 12 poets, 8 women and 4 men: Elżbieta Czajkowska, Joe DeCenzo, Mary Elliott, Jeff Graham, Marlene Hitt, Frederick Livingston, Alice Pero, Allegra Silberstein, Jane Stuart, Ambika Talwar, Bory Thach, and Maja Trochimczyk. 

The poets span all ages and diverse life experiences. They include émigrés from Poland, Cambodia, and India, and those born in the U.S. College professors join community poets. Native speakers appear alongside those for whom English is the second, or even the third language. The ”joy and wisdom” they write about are also different, as each poet follows their own path and gathers unique reflections to share with their readers. The spectacular cover art and paintings to start each section are by poet Ambika Talwar, a talented painter and poet.

Mary Elliott, Bory Thach, Marlene Hitt, Alice Pero, Joe DeCenzo, Ambika Talwar and Maja Trochimczyk at the Opening Reception and Reading of the Sky Garden Exhibition, October 16, 2022, Scenic Drive Gallery, Monrovia. 


In the Preface, I described the inspiration and philosophy of the book as follows: 

"The title of this anthology comes from my poem “The Year of Crystal Fire” written at the end of a very long and convoluted love story that has a lot to do with the ancient Chinese legends of nine-tailed foxes. Initially, the title of this anthology was to be The Year of Crystal Fire, just like the poem, but why limit ourselves to just one year? The phrase of “Crystal Fire” may be seen as the  symbol of all humanity, with each person born from the union of man and woman, the male and female DNA strands interlocking in ever new patterns to create human beings. In this phrase, "Crystal" stands for the feminine and “Fire” for the masculine. “Crystal” is peaceful, somewhat static, but well-constructed, stable, and growing slowly into perfection. It is the cosmos of order and being. Remember, only women give birth (though some want to construct artificial wombs and detach humanity from its roots). In contrast, "Fire" is dynamic, sometimes intensely dramatic, always changing, always transforming, constantly in the state of flux. It is the energy of change and growth. It is also destructive, demolishing  solid structures of the past to make room for the new. “Fire” means destruction and becoming. It is pure chaos." 

"The Universe arises from the dance of these twin forces, like yin and yang, but neither is pure darkness, negative and “evil” and neither is pure light, positive, and “good.” Instead, they are the ageless vortex  of cosmic unity and chaos, of creation and destruction. There is no value assigned to this polarity, for such labels are limiting and deceptive. Both aspects are essential, each  cannot exist without its twin. Both are good AND evil, both are positive AND negative. ”Good and positive” when coupled with the other. “Evil and negative” when alone. These are the polar opposites of stagnation and decline—or constant movement and the total destruction of all life. The feminine elements of "earth" and "water" endlessly dance with the masculine elements of “air” and “fire.” Do you agree with me?"

My poems are listed and a sample poem is copied below.                                                                

 

Blue Arches by Ambika Talwar, from Crystal Fire anthology.

 

Maja Trochimczyk ≈ 127

1.      The Year of Crystal Fire  ≈  128

2.      A Black Velvet Butterfly  ≈  129

3.      Repeat After Me  ≈  130

4.      The Infinity Room  ≈  132

5.      Pelicans   ≈  134

6.      Liquid Opal  ≈  135

7.      The School of Birds  ≈  136

8.      Alchemy in the Hills  ≈  137

9.      The Stillness of Trees  ≈  138

10.   Imagine a Star… ≈  139

11.   Arbor Cosmica  ≈  140

12.   Like Grapes on a Vine  ≈  142

13.   A Starchild’s Lesson  ≈  143

14.   Today Is for Us  ≈  144


 The Year of Crystal Fire 

Soft patter of pink rose petals

falling onto the floor. The scent of French Perfume

in the air. The heartbeat  stops. The world ceases its rotations.

 

I see the light in your eyes shining

through the slit in your motorcycle helmet,

as you pass me on the street. In a millisecond

of recognition you take me in—whole,

serene in turquoise and aqua—then, you look away

far into the past we shared so shamelessly,

beyond measure—

             the year of passion

             the year of dogs that brought us together

             the year of longing

             the year of dolphins dancing on salty waves

             the year of absence

             the year of waiting in darkness 

the year of tiger lilies

the year of nine-tailed foxes—

                             smooth with seduction and delight

 

Yes, I liked that year the most—

as we grew into our demonic, daimonic selves,

created new galaxies, parallel universes

out of our other-worldly love.


Timelines shift.

The cosmic windows

keep opening and closing.

Soft patter of pink rose petals

on the flying carpet takes me into

            the year of passion

            the year of tiger lilies

            the year of diamond kites

soaring above hilltops

            the year of stardust

            the year of crystal fire



The other poems are listed, along with a copy of the preface on Moonrise Press blog. 

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/09/moonrise-press-publishes-crystal-fire.html

More poems from the anthology are featured in a post about the exhibition:

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/09/moonrise-press-and-scenic-drive-gallery.html



At the opening of the Sky Garden Exhibition with two books and photographs in the background. Scenic Drive Gallery, Monrovia, CA.


Poems from the Crystal Fire anthology and from the Bright Skies collection were presented at two readings at Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia, California. The readings were to mark the opening on October 16, 2022 and closing on November 20, 2022 of an exhibit of Ambika Talwar's paintings from Crystal Fire and my photographs from Bright Skies. The exhibition, entitled "Sky Garden" and curated by Susan Dobay, presented just 12 paintings and 12 photographs, but gave rise to a series of events, including two poetry readings from the books. The exhibition was also visited by singer, guitarist and song-writer Piotr Kajetan Matczuk of Poland, who gave there a mini-concert. 

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/09/moonrise-press-and-scenic-drive-gallery.html

https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/11/sky-garden-exhibition-closing-on.html

Maja Trochimczyk with Piotr Matczuk at Sky Garden Exhibition, 5 November 2022

Poet Bory Thach, included in the anthology and participating in the readings, shared the following comment about the book and readings: "I really appreciate everything that you do for the arts, especially how you strive to be fair and include everyone through well-deserved recognition.  It's great to be surrounded by such positive poets with a wide variety of perspectives and insights that can be shown through their poetry.  Being a writer I always try to learn something from every artist that I meet.  The best part about our group is that I get to read amazing works by different authors, experience their views as well as fresh images and new ways of looking at the world.  As a result, I have the privilege of gaining valuable knowledge and wisdom.  All because I encountered so many poetic pieces as your editor.  I'm just grateful to be able to take away at least one thing every time I open a book.  It is like a step closer to enlightenment!"


Joe DeCenzo, Elzbieta Czajkowska, Susan Dobay, Maja Trochimczyk and Bory Thach at the Closing Reception of the Sky Garden Exhibition, November 20, 2022.



Saturday, September 10, 2022

Where Does Poetry Come From? Freeways, Riverbed, Roku, Online Shopping...


Once upon a time, in Poland, there lived a humorist of great wit.  He wrote a lot and was quite popular so once a silly female fan asked him: "Master, where do your ideas come from? Like, from your head, or something?" The joker answered, "No, my dear lady, straight from my leg..."  I may have misremembered the joke, but the point is to think about the source of poetic inspiration. Where does it all come from? Why do I find it so hard to write on a prompt, assigned topic or a quote?  Yes, I can write these things, but then they feel dense, boring and lame. 

Sometimes, poems come to me (only in English) when I dream: I wake up with an almost ready poem. It is all good, if I write it down right away, but not so good, if I forget -  as was the case with "I am in love with Luo Jim" - that was complete upon waking up and then forgotten. It caused me a lot of trouble to reproduce it afterwards.  Poems also come when I'm relaxed and otherwise occupied with straightforward tasks like driving on a freeway, or on a near empty street. Swimming, gardening, going for walks, or meditating are also good places to find poems. Meditation is strange: So often, instead of clearing my mind of random thoughts, I get a poem while I train my breath to deepen, slow down and become more regular. The breath of life... prana. So, let's read some quotidian poems that came into being in such silly ways. 

Let's start from the melting moon, that I saw disappearing behind the ridge of hills while driving south on the 210 around six p.m., close to sunset. The hills were orange and purple, the moon, not quite full yet, unfinished. When I looked back in the mirror I saw the sun at the same level, getting redder as it was setting.  What does the melting moon remind one of, while driving when anything can happen any time? The passing of life, of course. So, here it is:

A Wish Upon a Moon


The snowball of a moon
Melts into brow summer hills
 at sunset.

It looks unfinished
as if a painter abandoned
the imperfect draft
before completion.

And so our lives
melt into timelessness,
leaving behind disheveled words
a stack of dreams
and scattered wishes.

“All shall be well” –
the poet confirmed.
His words bring us comfort
while we exhaust ourselves
with doubt, worry and regret.

All shall be well”
And all is well –

You know,
the melting moon
will come back. 

(c) 2022 by Maja Trochimczyk

Another "driving" poem came from a red-light stop on a Friday afternoon in downtown Los Angeles. Our dear friend, ballet master and choreographer Stefan Wenta died, and I was looking for a suitable red-and-white wreath in the colors of Polish national flag to present at his funeral.  The best place to find these is, of course, the flower district.  I stopped and looked ahead. The cross-street was named "Arcadia" for garden paradise of peace, yet right down I could see the ominous towers of the county jail. The contrast was just too stark. I used to work at the Midnight Mission on Skid Row and drove down there daily in the past, but it's been years since I saw the human misery concentrated in this strange corner of the City of Angels, full of warehouses, garbage, vacant lot and new loft developments for yuppies. The poem is a straightforward description of what I did and saw that day.



DTLA


Downtown Los Angeles.
At the corner of Alameda and  Arcadia Street
Two dying palms with shredded leaves
struggle to ornament a bleak landscape
of cement and asphalt.
Narrow vertical slits of windows
in thick walls of gray towers look like gaps
for archers in a medieval fortress
of granite and slate.

Here they keep inmates of Men’s Central Jail
from suicide or murder. Nobody can break
this glass. Nobody can jump. Thousands
pass through each year.
Bedraggled men on the next corner
dig through a heap of cardboard
looking for the best pieces to make
shelter on the sidewalk for the night.

All stores close at six pm. Gaudy rolls
of sparkling fabrics in a dance store
brighten the scene with artificial cheer.
Few tents are up. Night residents
are not back yet from the day of panhandling
and food kitchen lines. In a vacant lot,
a white balloon, smudged with dirt,
rolls along the skeletal remains of weeds.

I find the last florist open by an emptyspot.
I buy the first red and white wreath I see.
Perfect! I order a ribbon with inscription
and delivery to the funeral mass.
I leave with a bouquet of my own.
Driving home, immersed in the dense
Sweetness of stargazer lilies, I sigh
heading back to my world of gardens,
birdsong, mountains, feisty hummingbirds
and two mourning doves caressing each other
long after making love in the driveway.

The heady scent o five-petalled stars
reminds me of the broken promises
of yesteryear and the brightness
of tomorrow.


Stargazer lily from Wikimedia Commons. I cannot find my own, so there...


The next poem is a reflection on my unwillingness to turn back time. Once, a co-worker asked me, in earnest: "How much would you pay to become 20 again?"  His answer was $200,000, but I said "Nothing - I'm so happy I'm not twenty, ignorant and out of control emotionally. I'd never want to go back to being that." Not even a perfectly beautiful, young and fit body would compensate for the deficiencies of experience, the vacuous ignorance of mind and heart. It took me lots of lessons to come to the place of wisdom and I'm still learning, so I cherish every wrinkle... 

Here's what I learned from buying a sofa online. My first such experiment, justified by two points. One - to spare myself from hours wading through stores full of sofas. Two - because it looked just like my old one, so it could be put in the same place.  It turned out to be faux leather, not leather - even better, for I do not want to decorate my home with trophies from killing sentient beings. Though I still wear leather shoes and carry purses. Vanity is hard to discard... But  it is a humorous poem. The word "Sofa" is funny in itself, try saying it several times in order: sofa, sofa, sofa... 

The Sofa Dilemma

I bought a sofa
To replace an old sofa
Placing toe online order
From the old sofa full of holes
To bring a new sofa
And take the old away in a few days.

I bought a sofa
To replace another sofa
For they look the same.
It will be as if time reversed and went back
To 2005 when this shredded sofa
Was still my sparkling new sofa
In camel or cognac leather –
These names are so strange.

So did I buy this new sofa
To reverse the time flow
And find myself when I was still
Deluded with illusory hope
For life that was not meant to be?

Was it a hiccup of memory,
a sudden echo from the past?
No I just bought a new sofa
To precisely replace a zombie sofa.

That's all. I'm pleased.


Finally, my dream poem of a dream hero of manufactured dreams from a Chinese costume drama TV series. Watching Chinese and Korean fantasy dramas became my favorite past-time. They are not as vicious, cruel, mindlessly unfunny, or sentimental as American productions. They are mostly "upright" and teach obvious lessons of the love of the country, compassion for the poor, value of service and integrity, respect for parents, faithfulness to loved ones and friends, loyalty and love till death us part... 

The costumes are fantastic, the hair and robes long and flowing... Wide sleeves and black tresses float on the breeze when the heroes and heroines fly around. Who wouldn't want to fly? What's not to love? Plus, in a streaming mode, it is fairly easy to fast-forward through the scenes of war or torture, or scheming conversations of wicked villains. Alas, the English translation of subtitles is often abysmal, though it may add to fun, by becoming a puzzle to be solved. Dubbing is completely out of question. 

Luo Jin is one of the stars of the "Princess of Wei Young," a well-written series where he falls in life with the title character, played by his real wife, and their warmth is obvious on the screen. There is only one flaw - the blooms in the fields are all silk flowers, perhaps there was nothing blooming in the winter when the episodes were filmed.  So....


The whole poem will be published elsewhere, here's just a teaser, first two stanzas.... 

I Fell in Love with Luo Jin


On the screen,
his eyes are always smiling,
even when just a corner of his mouth
lifts up in a rakish smirk.
I love his bravado when saving maidens
from ancient demons.
He flies through air while shooting arrows,
suspended from steel cables
in a deceptive, engineering feat.

I am in love with Luo Jin,
tenderly plucking guzheng strings,
wistfully gazing at the stars,
or into the eyes of his on-screen lover,
his real wife. Betrayal? Never!
He gives me of what I can only dream.
Like me, billions of others love Luo Jin,
seduced by the grand illusion of the film.
His sword ballet is an aerial dance –
killing without the stench of rotting corpses.
Pure flight, joy, even – Oh, Luo Jin!

That's just one difference between oral and written poetry. It is good if there is rhythm and rhyme. I think all students should memorize the Greek patterns of rhythm, called feet: iamb (ta DA),  trochee (DA ta), anapest (ta ta DA), dactyl (DA ta ta), and spondee (DA DA). Poems, even free verse, sound more "poetic" when patterns of these rhythm are repeated and woven into a flow.  

English language and Polish langue "love" different rhythmic patterns: most words are accented on penultimate syllable in Polish, so lines tend to be longer and more flowing. I do not even dream poems in Polish, and I really do not know why. Maybe the rhythm of English fits me better. Also, as a second language, it is somewhat "artificial" - it has some characteristics of an imperfect mask - I keep my Polish accent, so the mask is flawed, so is the quotidian poetry, good for this blog.  



A POSTCRIPT ABOUT THE RIVER

In February 2023, after months of incessant rain, pouring in thick layers, as if in a cloud-burst, the Bigh Tujunga wash became a river. I filmed some muddy water flows and the links are copied below. 

https://youtu.be/RJYexVu4r5s - turbulent waves of muddy stream  in the valley

https://youtu.be/FpcaAMHF9kM - waves of muddy stream break over rocks

https://youtu.be/Hxl7XWcQaG4 - there is no road, just a river and a mini waterfall (30 sec)

https://youtu.be/lJhlNWEdmKE - waves turn back, the patterns are fascinating

Look at that massive force of flowing water. Poor trees bent out of shape, with a weight of dead branches pushing them to fall down and float away. So do our daily trouble push and push in the relentless flow of time. . . Big Tujunga flows, if it has water in it, from Los Angeles National Forest mountains down to Los Angeles river. Sometimes, there are only rocks, sometimes, just a tiny stream, but this spring it changed into a raging, muddy river, that even took away part of our usual path and moved from where we used to play in pools created by rock dams, filling that area with sand instead. In 1998, it took away two holes and surrounding land from our golf course; they built a concrete wall to protect the rest after that... We can learn so much from rivers. So alive: always changing, always breathing, moving, dancing the endless dance of flow and change.

I could write a poem about lessons learned from such mighty, transient rivers - here today, gone tomorrow - but Zbigniew Herbert already did that, and I do not want to be a plagiarist. Yes, we can learn a lot from rivers... even those ones that do not last year round.