Category Archives: POETRY

ANTIMETHYSICS OR THE PHYSICS OF THE NAIVE

By MARIAN DZIWISZ

Poets And Astrophysicists

Someone, once said:
"there is a great difference between those 
"who, like in a cave, were shut up in themselves,
and only saw the shadows of the world,
and those who, with their senses
- connected with the wonders of technology,
in the light of thought explore the universes,
to be able to describe their discoveries in scientific works 
to be able to describe their discoveries in scientific works".

Those who say this have not understood
that through inheritance and karma from the world,
which every living being receives,
the images of the Universe are written in man,
and all that the Earth has produced.
Hence the knowledge of the world available to poets.

It is enough to have an inner mirror, 
or a third eye, in order to be able
to know and explore what is available to astrophysicists.
You only need your own senses, 
reason, imagination - to listen,
just as the Vedic soothsayers did,
and also Hesiod, Homer and Słowacki when he wrote
- "Genesis from the spirit".

But these same bards listened attentively,
what the witches, witches talked about
and astronomers discovered in the sky. 
Inner vision and outer knowledge,
they put into stanzas to tell everyone
about what they had learned from birth,
of the world both near and far.


They called the stars and planets gods
And bound human destinies to them,
Therefore their works, rulers and priests,
have made them sacred, claiming to them
inalienable rights.

Socrates read the works of the soothsayers with great attention,
That's why he could argue with the sophists
and fight the dogmas instilled by the priests,
such as the one well known from Euthyphron and Antigone:
that "he who obeys the gods cannot err",
even when he acts against reason
and the voice of his own free conscience.
For which, for "godlessness" and "corruption of youth"
- he was accused.
He was sentenced to death by drinking hemlock.

No wonder that Plato
had the poets expelled from the state,
so that the pious people would not be confused.
And Aristotle accused them of making up
or that they hide the truth in metaphors.

The pope imposed censorship on free poetry and thought,
to keep the people of God in obedience,
on rebellious scholars and poets
and poets, he cursed them and condemned their works,
and if they did not improve, he had them burned at the stake.

But when those dark times were over,
Poets and astrophysicists made a new alliance,
to speak openly and honestly
to speak openly and honestly,
hiding nothing of what
what physics has discovered on earth and in the Universe,
rejecting dogmas and what "Metaphysics" taught us.

Krakow 30.01.2022


Physics Of The Naive

"Errare humanum est"
"To err is human".

Apart from Aristotle, no one was born a wise man,
Although everyone has "divine wisdom" by nature,
"We learn from our mistakes, at school, from our neighbour;
by observing nature, in which small creatures
often solve not easy tasks.
Finally, he asks "the eternal - man,
[...] for he does not envy [...] without lust he waits
and without passion'[1],
for he does not call anyone a "fool",
but like Socrates, seemingly naive
- questions in order to find out calmly
what is the motive of human action:
love or hatred? 
Seeking revenge or justice?
Pride or humility? 
If necessary, he listens to the voice
of a free conscience, which in him is "the voice of god",
without name or face, but sensitive
to the good of nature and the good of man.

Aristotle called himself a sage,
recognising that he possessed "divine wisdom", he proclaimed:
"... it should not be that the wise should be commanded to do something, but that he should command, and that he should not have to acknowledge the view of another, but that he should be trusted by the less wise."[2]
Thus he called the poets naïve,
He rejected the views of Plato, whom he disliked
and the Pythagoreans - he rejected,
in "Physics", he stated that the structure of the atom was not complex,
in the "Metaphysics", he considered God to be the cause of motion.
Thus he returned to the views of Democritus and sophists.

This is how he proved with the effort of thought 
how to create "eternal truths",
in order to put an end to man's curiosity,
because it only "leads to hell".
One should therefore trust the sophists and believe in their dogmas.

Henceforth, throughout the long centuries of the Middle Ages,
who, searching for an answer to his curiosity,
and violated the above rules, had to
- confess them in confession and wait for absolution,
or else the court of inquisition awaited him and here on earth
- to experience hell.

[1] To: C.K. Norwid, "Promethidion".
[2] Artstoteles, "Metaphysics", transl. T. Żeleźnik, Lublin 1986, vol. I, book I, p. 3

Krakow 30.01.2022


The Mystery Of Yellow

"Not all that glitters is gold",
but yellow, after all, attracts not only
searching eyes,
yellow is also recognized by touch.
Hence it marks the thresholds for the blind
and shows the way.
Yellow warns of what can be harmful.
Yellow lining the tunnels of the Cosmos,
through which the smallest particles travel,
that feed or poison celestial bodies.

The spot in the eye is yellow.
Its cones and rods open the tunnels
through which the karma of the outside world
reaches the senses, excites, tempts
or it warns, repels, holds back.
Because yellow opens the gates between beings.
It connects them with each other, but also separates them.

If in a fertilised egg,
the "corpus luteum" does not appear,
to open the way to the uterine wall,
- it will die and be thrown into the rubbish.

When it appears, it will find an anchor,
it will open an umbilical tunnel for the fetus,
through which the karma will penetrate,
nourishing what is developing.

Spring yellows please our eyes.
They attract insects and hungry bees.
It is with birds singing, insects making music,
The mating of spring begins
revealing the secrets of life's birth.


Gold forsythia chases away Marzanne.
Buttercups and marsh marigolds light up the nights.
Late in the day, the rape fields turn golden
And golden goldenrod pampers our eyes.

When yellow pollen penetrates
Into the pistil's depth - the fruit is set,
which with its flesh and juice
will be a treat to all.
The bees take the yellow pollen to the hive
And fill with golden honey
The wax granaries.

The grains of wheat will sparkle with gold,
From which when we grind, we'll bake breads.

When the yellow rapeseed yields,
The golden oil will caress the palate.
And the yellow bile will ease your digestion.

But yellow also holds 
- Other secrets
which do not bring it glory at all.
For when eyes gaze into gold
they inspire not only admiration, 
but also desire,
then there are those who are
- ready to leap into the fire,
or send out troops
- to fight long wars.

There is also poison in the golden cup,
which, like a surfeit of bile that spills out
- brings bitterness and also kills.

Thus yellow is a sign of disintegration:
the human community into those who have gold
and those who strive for it in vain,
their strength, and sometimes even their lives;
the family, if jealousy appears in it
and an excess of bile, which brings out bitterness,
that breaks the ties;
In the Roman church, where the white and yellow flag
separates the hierarchy that dips in gold,
from the people who offer sacrifices,
and covers itself in white, so as not to bring shame
to the priests - not to God.

But also in nature yellow decay begins,
for they shimmer with gold in autumn: the feathers of grasses,
the leaves of many trees, especially birches,
before they fall to the ground and decompose in the soil.

No wonder, then, in what the people believe,
that for merit on earth, a crown of gold awaits
you in heaven,
for evil deeds you will breathe yellow sulphur in hell.

Cracow 23.01.2022


Neutrin

Microparticles 
- radiated from proton nuclei,
which the most skilful eye cannot see,
they carry information on them.

Like chromosomes in the body of a mature hen,
they gather in the egg and form DNA
There they calmly wait
- for a photon that carries RNA,
 will pair it up
so that they can create the potential of life.
This is how neutrinos circulate in the Universe,
which the cosmic wind sweeps away.

They are thrown from "black holes" 
- into space,
like tiny pixels that create images,
they bind with atoms, which find similar
- molecules form.

These, in turn, in order to survive
or burn out, they look for a karma
which will feed them, or into a bright flame
their building blocks,
so that the neutrinos, where they came from.
- could return.

Hence there is more matter in the Universe,
than life on Earth;
than the celestial bodies that shine at night
and the elements in the great black holes,
because neutrinos are blown by the cosmic wind.
So they are there, where apparently they are not.
Like DNA and souls in every living being.

Cracow 31.01.2022

©Copyright by Marian Dziwisz



MARIAN DZIWISZ b. 1943 in the village of Michałowice near Kraków. He graduated from the Primary School in Wola Zachariaszowska; Little Theological Seminary of the XX Missionaries in Krakow (1961). He completed his Polish studies at the Pedagogical University in Krakow (1966, currently the Pedagogical University) and a PhD in philosophy in the field of philosophy (1980). He was the editor and secretary of the editorial board of: socio-cultural monthly magazines: “ZDANIE”; “LITERARY AND ARTISTIC WRITING” and “FORMUM OF THOUGHT FREE” in Krakow; assistant professor at the Institute of Teacher Education of ODN in Krakow; a Polish language teacher in high schools and technical schools; lecturer of philosophy at Krakow universities. He debuted with poems in Nowa Wieś (1978). He published his poems, among others in the pages of: “Zdania”, “Okolic”, “Pisma Literacko-Artystyczny” until 1990. His output includes volumes of poetry, among others “Ergo sum” 2007, “Madonna” 2011, “Categorical Imperative” 2014 [available at the Jagiellonian Library], in the years 2015 – 2017 three volumes of the story “Semper in altum – Always up” at LSW. He has published: a series of articles in scientific and socio-cultural journals. Since 2020, at the invitation of Thadddeus Hutyra, Konrad Stawiarski and Marija Najhefer, Popov has been publishing his poems and essays on the websites of national and international Poetry Groups.

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Poems of Niels Hav

 

Axiom                      

 

False pride

collapses

sooner or later.

As if reality

in its innermost

structure were governed

by reason.

 

Despots and empires

grind to an end;

brutal murderers

and violent political

systems

last for only a time,

then the regime falls

apart from

the inside.

 

The dictator’s name

disappears

into the great forgetting –

faster than the representatives

of goodness

whom the heart remembers.

 

New incarnations

of human evil

appear –

brutality and arrogance

mate happily

with our own desire

for a jackpot.

 

But the new ones

and their servile

fellow-travelers

will also disappear

when

their time comes.

Trust that.

 

Invincible

is the marrow

which every morning

lifts us all

out of sleep

each with our own

flopping catch

of joy and hope.

 

© Niels Hav

Translation: P.K. Brask & Patrick Friesen

Continue reading Poems of Niels Hav

Two Poems Of Welkin Siskin 

Ups and Downs

We go through ups and downs
But our art of life does count,
And does then the play of its lute;
We play with life, either foul or good.
Art of living is what we as humans seek,
In the world prodigious and bleak,
To guide us through windswept state;
To falter and to go a long way is never too late.
With all attempts we dare to create artistic life
To let our art in the future revive;
Artistic living is what guides us
To let us never evermore distract.

Florets of Fancy

Life through spiral goes
Weaving florets of fancy
And then it seeks for a dream
To usher us to a path of perfection.
 For, if only for a short life we could dwell
And dwell like an empty vessel,
We could not have fancies.
As humans, we dwell with innumerable fancies;
These fancies are ingredients of life
Too, to make a gateway to our destiny.
If  we could dwell without fancies
Could we then a dream never achieve;
We dwell with fancies and are we thus humans—
with desire and wants, dreams and destiny.
Copyright: Welkin Siskin 

PYGMALION

NEHA BHANDARKAR

Send me,
Audaciously send me,
A trug of roses
And also send me,
Their fragrance
Through O’phone………
Take me
In your arms
In this global scenario
Of intrinsic internet,
And delicately tuck in
A gorgeous
Genuine fresh flower chaplet
Of Spanish Cherry
In my hair………
I would perceive
Your emotions
Invaluable than ornaments
But would you really
Fathom the depth
And perimeter of my
Intense feelings?
Agreed ssssssss………….
You would even give me
The rainbowy horizon
But would your vision
Trace out the horizon
That I do wish for?
The blood akine
Spiritual energy
Doesn’t ever let
Gain a peace
The active volcano
Dwelling inside me…………
I too,
See countless dreams
Obsessed to objectives
As never ending
Numerous dormant wishes
Keep simmering
Like the molten lava.
Would you be able
To bloom this
Dried, lifeless
Corporal flower?
Would you be able to enliven
My inanimate appearance?
Would you be able
To fill colours
In this sculpture
As once did Pygmalion?
Agreed sssssssss………
The night blooming
And blossoming
With your touch
Emanates  sandalwood fragnance
All through my senses,
As a love-light
Keeps lighting
Alike gleam of fireflies
In our love shrine………….
O dear, flowers are reborn
Through pollination,
So  flowers also
Agree to the tenets
Of nature…
Isn’t it?
Intrusion of
Every nector sucking
Bumble bees
Who crush the Body-flower
Is denied by the helpless
Wretched flowers !…..
Alas ! Even a single
Sunbeam is all enough
To wither them up……….
……Huh !
And you insist
To revital
The withered flowers?
Isn’t  it better that
Man learns not to let
The flowers wither?
Then at least
Man could proudly say
“I care you
Like the eternal flowers”
And of course dear,
When you learn caring me forever
I would yearn
Just not for this virtual
Trug of flowers
But a chaplet made of
Fresh Spanish Cherry
Yesssssssssss……..
Every day,
Every single day, my dear………….
©NEHA BHANDARKAR

Eternal horizon

 

Hans en Bianca

in the silent room I bow my head deep to the ground

my cervix shrinks together and I lose words

that will lack all power when the sun’s rays disappear forever

 

despair clings to me in an evening fog of sorrow

the fumes of your image absorbed in the plane disaster

my comprehension is unable to contain it all to the full extent

 

with empty eyes I stare at the sky and reach for heaven

your years of life pass by like a flashing comet

lightning bolts hit the epicenter of icy loneliness

 

powerlessness kills the ground under my feet in the gallery of sorrow

considered thoughts seek answers in me that can’t be found in

the connections that must proceed in two worlds – earthly and heavenly

 

out of the clouds I feel drops of you melting together with tears on my face

I hear your voice like an echo that will keep beating in my heart until I am with you again

 

© Hans en Bianca

 

PASSION AND TENDERNESS

 

Anna Ferriero

I saw Hope

in a great immensity

and wind harmonica music

he was spying on me;

on the notes of my breath

composed a poem;

in the naivety of my gaze

he found himself at ease.

The stars in the clear sky

they’re writing a new story,

soon the talings

they will give birth to a new flower.

It is an unknown flower

but it has existed for millennia.

It’s more ancient than Earth.

It is the shadow of poetry.

It is the soul of the verses.

Knows every step

of the artist in love.

Red and Yellow ladybugs

they draw tulips

but the new petals overlook the sunset

Tender and Shy

they are the scent of sunflowers field

 

This poem is dedicated to the Ireland-Sunflower Association

 

PASSIONE E TENEREZZA

 

Ho visto la Speranza

in una grande immensità

e la musica del vento armoniosa

spiava me;

sulle note del mio respiro

ha composto una poesia;

nell’ingenuità del mio sguardo

si è trovata a suo agio.

Le stelle nel chiaro cielo

stanno scrivendo una nuova storia,

presto le talee

daranno vita a un nuovo fiore.

È un fiore sconosciuto

ma esiste da millenni.

È più antico della Terra.

È l’ombra della poesia.

È l’anima dei versi.

Conosce ogni passo

dell’artista innamorato.

Coccinelle rosse e gialle

disegnano tulipani

ma nuove corolle si affacciano al tramonto

tenere e timide, esse

(esse) profumano di campo di girasoli

 

Questa poesia è dedicata all’associazione Irlanda-girasole

INNO ALL’AMORE VERO. 

Elisa Mascia

L’uomo che ama di amore vero la sua donna
scopre un percorso verso il cielo
ove regna  e protegge con ampie ali Dio.
Non avranno né gelosia né possesso
l’uno dell’altro.
Energia vitale fluisce
nell’aprirsi all’amore di Dio.
Guardandosi negli occhi
vedranno quant’è immenso l’Universo…
e tutto in dono possibile diverrà
nel progetto d’amore in cui l’uomo promette :
‘Se  in futuro un dì incontrerò
colei che ha bisogno di doni
per affiorar sorriso sulle carnose labbra
e che si emozioni arrossendo le gote
ebbene quei doni
saranno come brezza marina
mai prigioniera sarà
ma vera libertà.
Rappresenterò  lo spazio circoscritto
alle sue armoniose forme corporee
e sosterò dentro lei come il tempo.
Donna
non esser frettolosa
ad anelar a mia conoscenza.
Rivelazione magica :
Spazio e tempo sarò
entro i quali divenire
simile al seme che dimora nella terra
per crescere albero rigoglioso.
Farò che respiri
avendo cura a non  soffocarla
di presunzione.
Neanche la celebrerò per come ella è.
Sprofonderò gli artigli dell’amore in lei.
La proteggerò come aquila reale dalle possenti ali.
Nessuna bramosia di manifestarmi
ma ch’ella,  per mezzo  mio,
possa ammirar monti,  valli,
mare,  cielo,  le stelle e il firmamento.
Non è me stesso in esame…
sono soltanto colui che entusiasma.
Non è di te che si discute.
Tu sei il sentiero che conduce
alle praterie dell’alba di ogni dì.
E… neanche di noi si parla :
assieme siamo il varco
per approdare a Dio
che per un istante
afferra la nostra creazione
per adoperarle.
Elisa Mascia

Small Temptations

Alicja Maria Kuberska

 

The lures  appear out of nowhere and weigh next to nothing.
Light and airy – they sneak quietly through life,
They are translucent, barely visible and noticeably weak.

They do not have a specific gravity of serious sins.
Quickly, in ad- hoc mode, they  justify the offenses.
They do not leave  the marks of their stay in memory

and conscience.

They abandon responsibilities, forget the dates on the calendar
They sit comfortably in a chair

and fly to the blue realm of dreams,
where  the aromas of coffee are entangled in the whiff  of the cheesecake or apple pie.

No regard for calories ,

they add cream and delicacies to the ice- cream,
They melt in the mouth the sweetness of stuffed chocolates,
In the evening they serve a glass of champagne with strawberries.

On the sunny and warm days they invite one to walk to the park
to buy from a florist  the bouquets of violets

with their last few pennies.
The blameworthy and reckless, they do not worry about finances.

Small enticements and small fibs know each other  vey well.
They together discount the extraordinary beautiful handbags, dresses and shoes.
Sometimes they occasionally purchase  the colorful

scarves and  the beads.

Innocent sins are full of irresistible charm and grace,
And as water droplets falling on stone systematically,
They crush the monolith of serious standards and steadfast rules.