Photograph ©John Stadnicki
Another midnight storm washes away the cold poetry
born at the top floor.
I balance my whole weight
on long words;
frozen stones on my tongue.
I count the mistakes god has done with me,
just to pass the time.
The violent rain hid a blind dog
inside my very bone.
Here, upstairs, both of us in the same body,
awake and hungry,
listen.
©Maria Stadnicka, MMXVII
published in ‘Stride’ magazine, available here
Photograph: ©John Stadnicki, Calais, August 2017
In Calais. Two years have passed since my visit to the ‘Jungle’ camp. Now demolished. Without migrants. And I get to measure time in a different way. Not as a linear construct or development or progress. In such matters, ‘time’ is not an objective concept. Time is measured in memories, stories which have been told and then forgotten, wasted. In Western political terminology, time is the dissociation from tragedy combined with the hopeless expectation of a historic healing. It is anonymous, evanescent. And so are thousands, millions across Europe and beyond.
Photograph: ©John Stadnicki, Calais, August 2017
‘Someone has to. It is easy to follow along. It can feel strange to do or say something different. But without that unease, there is no freedom.‘ (Snyder T. ‘On Tyranny, 2017 )
Photograph ©Harry Oliver / Instagram @harryowns
Photograph: ©John Stadnicki
Afternoon by the Sea (from Imperfect available at Yew Tree Press)
Through a window, the word points at a high fence.
Beyond the distant melted sands,
bullets across the sky keep in order
our grey memory –
dust in the old man’s bone.
The promised justice moves further away,
into unlit dampness.
Nothing happens in the past, nor tomorrow.
A whisper grows closer, hungry at bedtime,
dissolved by the sound of
stones and cracked glass under my shoe.
The wooden clocks announce the return ashore
of an empty shipwreck.
©Maria Stadnicka MMXVII, published this morning in ‘Stride’ magazine edited by Rupert M. Loydell
Mixed media: Maria Stadnicka – ‘Sounds’
Pentru cititorii in limba romana, saptamana aceasta a sosit cu o surpriza minunata. O pagina de poezie publicata in LitArt publicatie lunara de cultura, tiparita la Tg. Mures, sub egida onorifica a filialei locale a Uniunii Scriitorilor.
Multumiri redactorului-sef Adrian Armand Giurgea si echipei redactionale pentru promovarea valorilor culturale romanesti.
Pentru mine are o semnificatie speciala. 14 ani de cand am publicat ultima oara in Romania. 14 ani lungi, foarte lungi, de absenta si de dor. Editia tiparita este distribuita in Romania si poate fi accesata electronic in format pdf aici:
http://www.litart.ro/fileadmin/template/pdf/litart_iunie_iulie_2017.pdf
For Romanian readers, this week arrives with a beautiful surprise. Nine poems published in LitArt, Tg. Mures, Romania, under the Romanian Writers Association patronage. Gracious thanks to the editor-in-chief Adrian Armand Giurgea as well as the whole editorial team for the great work you are doing in promoting the cultural values of our generation, in Romania and abroad.
This has a particular significance for me, as it marks 14 years since the publication of my last poem written in Romanian. 14 long years.
The magazine is available in print and online, downloadable here:
http://www.litart.ro/fileadmin/template/pdf/litart_iunie_iulie_2017.pdf
Photograph: @Georgiana Calinescu-Barber
Smallminded Books is a beautiful project created by Rupert Loydell in collaboration with poets across the country and explores the concept of poetry as a gift token. It is about publishing small, very small books, in limited edition. As small as my palm, as big as my heart. Little books which are free and can be kept in your wallet, in your pocket, in …your other books. But mostly, they need to be read.
This new collection contains seven small books: Unspoken by Clark Allison, really there by John Martone, Fresh Roses by Sheila E. Murphy, ‘my name means the shape I am’ by Patricia Farrell, An enjoyable night was had by all by Mischa Foster Poole, Prayerbook for Trees by Anna Cathenka and EXITUS by Maria Stadnicka.
The books have been edited and designed by the poet and artist Rupert M. Loydell and published by Smallminded Books.
I salute this brilliant initiative with great joy and excitement and I am offering ten free copies of EXITUS, as a gift, to celebrate our beautiful language. To celebrate this project, the imagination, the playfulness and the creative energy which comes with poetry.
If you would like your free copy, please email me at mariastadnicka@yahoo.co.uk.
http://internationaltimes.it/plastic-2/
Illustration by Nick Victor copyright Published in International Times
The local MP came to visit today.
He played with his tie, in the half-empty boiling hot classroom.
Nobody offered him water.
He looked outside at the summery fog and
chewed his nails for an hour or so.
I tried to think of a question.
But all of them were already answered.
He paused and smiled at the camera.
I had a name badge around my neck.
He had nothing.
I sat on a tree-legged small plastic chair.
He sat on a piece of cake.
London. Friday afternoon. 2017.
It is summer. And a beautiful bitter one.
A few numbers for a statistical analysis which does not matter.
There are 775 rooms in Buckingham Palace.
There are almost 20,000 homes sitting empty in London. They are called ‘ghost’ homes.
The Crown Jewels have a total value of 44.5 billion pounds.
Stuart Gulliver, CEO at HSBC, will receive 9.7 million pounds as reward for cutting costs. Basically, for making money for others.
Philip May works as a senior executive at investment fund Capital Group that controls $1.4 trillion in assets.
Over 31 million pounds will be given this year in prizes at Wimbledon.
Theresa May promises 5 million pounds. To be shared between hundreds of people without food, clothes and a roof over their heads. Victims of Grenfell Tower fire.
Theresa May gets free food and accommodation wherever she goes. At all times.
An average wedding in the UK costs 20,000 pounds.
One cremation is 1,600 pounds, if it is planned. Otherwise, it is free.
Fire resistant cladding is 24 pounds per square metre.
One life has no price. Nor numbers.
Maria Stadnicka 