I was born on April, 28th in Zduńska Wola, Poland.
I am a poet, journalist and librarian. As a poet I debuted in 1981 in „Nowy Medyk”. My poems have also been published in „Tygiel Kultury”, „Poezja Dzisiaj”, „Przekrój”, „Metafora”, „Filipinka”, „Topos”, „Modern Haiku” (USA), „Reibeisen” (Austria), „Bdenje” (Serbia) and in the following antologies:
– „Contemporary Writers of Poland” (USA 2005),
– „Enough Questions, Enough Answers : Modern Polish Poetry in Translation” ( Rice Uniwersity w Houston, 2008),
– „Uwalniam ptaki sny : Ich befreie Vogel – Traume – Polish and German poems: Deutsche und polnische Gedichte” (Łódź 2009),
-”Oblaci u najkracoj noci : Clouds in the shortest night” – svetska haiku antologija: World Haiku Anthology”(Valjevo – Belgrad 2009),
– „Meine Welt – unsere Welt : Lyrik und Prosa” (Germany 2011).
I am a laureate of many literature competitions and C. K. Norwid Poetry International Competition. I have published seven books of poetry: „Poezja przypadków” („Poetry of Accidents”), „Zupełnie szczęśliwa marionetka” („A Quite Happy Puppet”), „Może się przyśnisz” („Maybe You’ll be Dreamed About”), „Nieopisanie” („Undescription”), „I pomyśleć, że jesteś” („And Thinking, You Do Exist”, „Kora” („Bark”), „Galeria świat” („Gallery World”) and „Freienwill”
As a journalist I work with Sieradz press (the city where I live) and Łódź cultural monthly journal „Kalejdoskop”. I run a library in a hospital in Sieradz.
Translation: Marek Marciniak & Kalina Duszka
x x x
the eyes of animals
are always pure
the animals do not have a soul
or remorse
it looks at me
scrutinizing
carefully
I do not have curage
to look them in the eyes
x x x
a village crackpot
sits at his mother grave
embracing his knees
and rocking he is repeats:
mother in the ground
the ground in mother
x x x
years are going by
round
and empty
I’m waiting for several summer days
the touch of your lips
must suffice
for next year
or forever
blood in my veins
changes in expectation
pulsating
and turning me
to your side
there is nothing better
than your arms
x x x
I was at the bottom
not once
I was in the depth
My Lord saved me
He sent for me
when I was at the bottom
x x x
I’m lying in forest
birches are blessing me
with their branches
x x x
the first love
like a lightning
shows an open sky
then for a long time
darkness
SLEEPWALKER
I loved the moon
and when it
turned away
my silver way
ended suddenly
I had not know
that there could be
so far
to stars
and to poeple
x x x
sometimes I envy
the dog
which you pet
x x x
I have hung your jacket
in my wardrobe
all my clothes
want to be close to it
x x x
when you are silent
silence is
like just before
the end of my world
when you are speaking
I am obedient your whisper
and I am dancing on the back of your hand
x x x
you tell me:
you want everything
and for me it is enough
to look through the window
at your side
and think
that you exist
x x x
before I met you
I had liked just
that brich forest
meadow
dark vivid strip of alder
and tender air above it
It had been enough
to fulfill my need
to worship something
and you have come
you veiled the trees meadow
and the same as they do
with calmness and indifference
you accept my love
QUESTION
we parted without words
time of becoming used to
loneliness
only when I came here
birch
jasmine
grass and mulleins
are asking
what I am doing here
without you
x x x
greyness has many colours
I have discovered it recently
in your eyes
x x x
I have said goodbye to that love so many times
yellowed leaves were carpeting it
time like a mist
was separating us
one summer
we could not find each other
and we though
– nothing would save us anymore
but suddenly
the dried leaves are falling of it
the mist is melting
and our love is green again
x x x
he looked through the window
in a very misty morning:
“oh, there is no world…”
x x x
trees
– are what is left for us
from paradise
x x x
22 years
after the beginning of our love
we talk about men
that live double life
-they have wife and lovers
(because they can afford that)
I ask
if you would like to live like they do
you reply
“I think I would like to have doubled you”
x x x
June is like
being
eighteen years old
x x x
stop
look through the window
(there is
nearly always)
a poem around
Translation: Marek Marciniak
x x x
in memory of people close to me
and it seemed
they would last forever
in that camomile yard
in that warm house
in that safe bed
time blows them up one after another
A Goodnight Phone Talk
Version 1:
– Hold on…
– What am I to hold?
– My love
Version 2:
– Keep well…
– What am I to keep?
– My love
x x x
love was for you
„ a horrible word
meaning fucking and subjugation”
love was the word
you did not utter
once you said to me:
„ coming here
brings me pleasure,
not coming here brings me pain”
and
„let it be so
until it is so”
yesterday I got books
returned by you
on top there was
a collection of poems
by Majakovski „I love”
X X X
God
with his love
is unprotected
X X X
Oh, to hug myself
to the thought of you
and to fall asleep
X X X
What does loneliness
consist of?
emptiness
X X X
I have my head in the clouds
I have a poem in my head
a never-ending poem of you
X X X
you logged
in my head
your gentle words
follow me
our voices
kiss
by phone
X X X
we remain
in modern relationships
free and open
with the fading hope for
the occurrence
of the old-fashioned relationship
wonderfully closed
X X X
„ I hate women
I am a womanizer
I am a virtuous man”,
you introduced yourself to me day by day
„ he is a poet
though he is not aware of it”,
so said about you
our common female friend
X X X
Where are poetesses from?
B.
I was a girl
of a bad home
but my yard
faced
a holy birch wood
but a rich red rose
gave its flowers to us
through the window
and mum used to sing songs
once she told me
she would go mad
if she could not sing
everything turned into poetry
The Gallery WORLD
snow flakes
tree leaves:
none is to be repeated
God is a perfectional artist
