Tag: immortality

Interludes

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I wept when reading Father Goriot
and The Idiot, but I was fifteen—
a fair excuse, I guess—
whereas now I simply try to believe
in my every word that I still remember,
as the days insist on living
without revealing which gullible soul is destined to pay
for accepting ‘visiting hours’—
or, as I call it, the life of a film-trailer connoisseur
who grasped a simple truth about colours:
they do not exist
(why wouldn’t I trust Keller and Lusseyran on the matter then?),
so I could spend my final day complaining
that, in recycling culture, even planting cabbages
has become yet another lifestyle hashtag
splashed on a t-shirt.

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Whispers of immortality

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With a nameplate on his door
and a stanza in his wallet,
Mr Honk stumbled upon
the first smidgeon of perpetuity,
but as a newborn he looked back
at the five decades of his life
with a hint of reservation—
fate might have spared him
the habitual thumb-munching
but not the descriptive grammar:

You ain’t lived nothing yet!

More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

A hint

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

They say that people won’t know how you feel
unless you tell them, yet it’s difficult to expect understanding
from those who dream of immortality—
where opulent octogenarians become the new youth,
leaving fingerprints in the linguist’s garden—
while all you’re looking forward to is for someone to tell you
what it means to be a proper grown-up.

The cursed currency of today’s newspaper

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

Why is there me rather than not,
as if the slipper animalcule were not enough,
even if only recalled from the bygone, coarse syllogisms
of my birthplace, to allude to an obscure pen warrior,
known perhaps to a few highbrows in the Slavic literature department here and there?
Obscurity is actually what everyone should aim for, by the way.
But that’s just me, I guess. After all, fame seems to be the currency
that buys the much-desired immortality
of tomorrow’s bog roll.

in the rain, a man hugs a woman holding a cat

My somewhat mundane reason for writing poetry

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

It all starts with a word or a phrase that turns into a paragraph,
and only then is it divided into verses and stanzas, if needed.
At least, that is my approach to writing a poem. The particulars
for sure vary from one author to another, but the whole process
has one thing in common: it is a trial-and-error-ridden fight
for immortality—pointless if you ask me, although I still take
part in this rite anyway, mostly in the hope of a breakfast
at Tiffany’s.