Water Sequence

‘Water Sequence’ poem © Maria Stadnicka, 2020

The poem ‘Water Sequence’ features in the latest collection ‘Somnia’ published by the Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, United Kingdom and it is officially released today.

‘Somnia’ is now available here and here.

Cover art work © Mark Mawer, 2019

Photography: © John Stadnicki, 2020

Original music ‘Vide Cor Meum’ © Patrick Cassidy and Hans Zimmer for ‘Hannibal’ (2001).

SOMNIA Knives, Forks, Spoons Press / Sep. 2019


Gloucestershire in Lockdown, April 2020

Photography: © John Stadnicki, April 2020

The photographs were taken on the way to local shops in Stroud and Gloucester, Midlands, Gloucestershire, UK. 1-2 April 2020.

The Mechanics of Pencils

‘The Mechanics of Pencils’ © Maria Stadnicka, 2020.

Voice: Maria Stadnicka

Music © Max Richter, 2014, ‘Dream 8’

Photography: © John Stadnicki, 2019

The poem ‘The Mechanics of Pencils’ was firstly published in ‘Stride Magazine’, United Kingdom on 28th February 2020. The link is available here.

The text was inspired by a letter written in 2011 by the artist Ai Wei Wei to his child, a few weeks after being released from prison. Ai Wei Wei spent 81 days in detention during a political crackdown that targeted dozens of bloggers, human rights lawyers, and writers with critical views against the Chinese government.


Journal Page

‘Journal Page’ © Maria Stadnicka, 2020 from the collection ‘Somnia’ published by the Knives, Forks and Knives, United Kingdom. The book is available on here and here.

Music © Max Richter, 2002, ‘Laika’s Journey’ from the album ‘Memoryhouse’.

Photography © John Stadnicki, 2020.

London, United Kingdom.

The Seventh Virtue

This is an imaginary journey, before Winter Crossing. A new poem I’m reading this afternoon.

The music is composed by © Max Richter for the album From Sleep (2015): ‘The Nature of Daylight’.

Photography © John Stadnicki, 2019: London.


City Life: London

© John Stadnicki 2020

Clean Shaving

Illustration © Claire Palmer 


In a barber’s mirror I appear

much younger though I stopped

shaving a while ago. Youth is

overrated, unnecessary; it creeps behind


on sleek crutches, it makes

me check over my shoulder.

It shears my clothes apart

at the most inconvenient moments.


See, that’s why there is no youth in afterlife,

the barber says. Hereafter is so full of beards

that clean-shaven people worry they’ll

miss out on a place among immortals.


Conversation breaks up when the blade

hesitates down my neck as if looking

for an incision mark. Youth-talk makes

the sharpest of knives doubt itself.


Knotted hair brushed in a dustpan.

Out the door, first left up the High Street,

I notice a young blade following me.

I am slowly turning to stone.


© Maria Stadnicka 2020

Published in ‘International Times’, 14 March 2020.