Senna Jawa
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2002
- Posts
- 3,272
Brueghels. Red Square Blue. Sigh.
For the past couple of days I am listening to Red Square Blue, on and on--on youtube it is only a 62m 14s concert. And now it is December 2014.
I used to have the Red Square Blue CD; I had a great system and lotsa lot of CDs, and listened to them day and night literally, during 1992-1994. That was in Texas. Sometimes people would visit me. Or one couple got their house under water, yes!, not too far from me, so they were my guests too. Each time I would give up my bedroom and would sleep on the floor in the living room. One of my guests was a journalist from Poland. She had background in literature and music. She died already many years ago, way before her time really. At the time, around 1993/4, she was making interviews with people of Jewish descent who emigrated from Poland during years 1967-1971. Thus she travelled on her minimal budget, and would stay with the people whom she interviewed.
She didn't interview me because I turned out to be too old. So, for my own sake, I reversed the idea, I asked her questions about herself. Thus I know about her, she was a very special character, and even being somewhat physically handicapped didn't slow her down. She was very tough. She worked for Solidarity when it was absolutely dangerous. And, on the lighter note, she induced the lazy me into seeing whatever there was interesting in Houston nearby. There was quite a bit!
Thus the very first thing I let her listen to Red Square Blue. And she cried!
******************************************
A day or two ago Tzara presented for us poem "The dance" by William Carlos Williams. The poem describes a painting by one of Brueghels, namely by Pieter Brueghel. W.C. Williams was born on 1883-09-17, and died on 1963-03-04, so that he lived 79 years and a half. He was a pediatrician and general practitioner. I am sure that he was a good doctor. As a poet, he is known the best of all for his "The Red Wheelbarrow". Oh well. His "The Dance" poem is ok, he did his job. C'mon, how a guy who calls himself William Williams can be a good poet?--'nough to say. I even like him, and that's all.
On the same day March 4, merely four years later, in 1967 another poet died, Włodzimierz Szymanowicz. Except that he lived just twenty and a half years, that's all. He wrote a poem about the Brueghels too. I wrote a comment about this one on one of the Polish poetry portals. My post was copied by several Internauts in several places. Of course nobody asked me or informed me--it was an honor for me all the same. This time it was an incredible poem. Thus even my comments were reproduced by people who never knew Szymanowicz, who never knew me. The fact that Szymanowicz was genius not only as a poet but possibly even more as an artist (paintings and graphics) certainly helped. Twenty and a half years is terribly little.
From 1997 till about 2003/4 I was in contact with still another poet. She was already a mature adult. She never published any of her poems in print but possibly on one-two irrelevant occasions (zero prestige). She posted on Internet some 30-40 pieces, not more. But half of them are on a level not seen since Bolesław Leśmian (remember that Poland has many outstanding poets, not to mention two Nobel prize winners, and those Nobel laureates are not even close to Tuwim, Czechowicz Baczyński, Gałczyński, Różewicz, ...). So, here is the story, a great poet who is known only to a bunch of Internauts, and half of them stupidly don't recognize/appreciate her poems--they are even hostile, while the rest doesn't care, including herself.
Sometime around 1999 I think, I read a poem for her on the phone, over some two thousands miles or so. By Włodzimierz Szymanowicz. Somehow there was silence, I was even a little concerned. Then I heard it, just barely. I asked: are you crying?!
For the past couple of days I am listening to Red Square Blue, on and on--on youtube it is only a 62m 14s concert. And now it is December 2014.
I used to have the Red Square Blue CD; I had a great system and lotsa lot of CDs, and listened to them day and night literally, during 1992-1994. That was in Texas. Sometimes people would visit me. Or one couple got their house under water, yes!, not too far from me, so they were my guests too. Each time I would give up my bedroom and would sleep on the floor in the living room. One of my guests was a journalist from Poland. She had background in literature and music. She died already many years ago, way before her time really. At the time, around 1993/4, she was making interviews with people of Jewish descent who emigrated from Poland during years 1967-1971. Thus she travelled on her minimal budget, and would stay with the people whom she interviewed.
She didn't interview me because I turned out to be too old. So, for my own sake, I reversed the idea, I asked her questions about herself. Thus I know about her, she was a very special character, and even being somewhat physically handicapped didn't slow her down. She was very tough. She worked for Solidarity when it was absolutely dangerous. And, on the lighter note, she induced the lazy me into seeing whatever there was interesting in Houston nearby. There was quite a bit!
Thus the very first thing I let her listen to Red Square Blue. And she cried!
******************************************
A day or two ago Tzara presented for us poem "The dance" by William Carlos Williams. The poem describes a painting by one of Brueghels, namely by Pieter Brueghel. W.C. Williams was born on 1883-09-17, and died on 1963-03-04, so that he lived 79 years and a half. He was a pediatrician and general practitioner. I am sure that he was a good doctor. As a poet, he is known the best of all for his "The Red Wheelbarrow". Oh well. His "The Dance" poem is ok, he did his job. C'mon, how a guy who calls himself William Williams can be a good poet?--'nough to say. I even like him, and that's all.
On the same day March 4, merely four years later, in 1967 another poet died, Włodzimierz Szymanowicz. Except that he lived just twenty and a half years, that's all. He wrote a poem about the Brueghels too. I wrote a comment about this one on one of the Polish poetry portals. My post was copied by several Internauts in several places. Of course nobody asked me or informed me--it was an honor for me all the same. This time it was an incredible poem. Thus even my comments were reproduced by people who never knew Szymanowicz, who never knew me. The fact that Szymanowicz was genius not only as a poet but possibly even more as an artist (paintings and graphics) certainly helped. Twenty and a half years is terribly little.
From 1997 till about 2003/4 I was in contact with still another poet. She was already a mature adult. She never published any of her poems in print but possibly on one-two irrelevant occasions (zero prestige). She posted on Internet some 30-40 pieces, not more. But half of them are on a level not seen since Bolesław Leśmian (remember that Poland has many outstanding poets, not to mention two Nobel prize winners, and those Nobel laureates are not even close to Tuwim, Czechowicz Baczyński, Gałczyński, Różewicz, ...). So, here is the story, a great poet who is known only to a bunch of Internauts, and half of them stupidly don't recognize/appreciate her poems--they are even hostile, while the rest doesn't care, including herself.
Sometime around 1999 I think, I read a poem for her on the phone, over some two thousands miles or so. By Włodzimierz Szymanowicz. Somehow there was silence, I was even a little concerned. Then I heard it, just barely. I asked: are you crying?!
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