Perfectly forgettable

I recently got new neighbours.
After the energetic magpie family moved out,
the tree outside my window was quiet for a while.
Now a pair of pigeons has appeared—
though not high up in the tree like the magpies,
but on a branch right next to my window—
yet they’re barely noticeable, without fuss
taking shifts in performing
their incubation duties.
Even their cooing is a rare occurrence.
They are perfectly forgettable
breeding machines
some call a symbol of love.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

When the tables turn

I lost sight of my neighbours
as their nest drowned in the linden leaves—
which is nothing unexpected with spring in full swing—
so for now I have to find some other source of entertainment,
or better yet, draw the curtains
so that I don’t become the target of snoopers:
all those flies bouncing off my window.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

A simple recipe

The frail constitution of conscience,
the assumed brevity of spirit,
and the calculated immodesty of mind,
all curtained with a green palette—
courtesy of a linden bathed in sunlight—
is a simple recipe for disaster
or a poem.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Escape artists

Born with the innate callus
of the name—
as if the difference
between an angel and a moth
were purely figurative—
we were destined
to buy the madman’s dead geranium
as the tree of life.
No wonder we couldn’t stand
the hell of paradise.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com