WALTER GOMULKA

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WALTER GOMULKA* 


I imagine the children hated to see him go.
What a Grandfather!
Talk. Talk. Talk.
They could skip their prayers.
He never forced them to eat.
He loved when they whispered secrets in his ear,
And as for his telling of fairy tales, no end!

 

*From his post, First Secretary of the Polish Communist Party, Gomulka ruled Russian occupied Poland from October 1956 to December 1970.   I visited  Poland during the Solidarity Period.Lyrics such as these were printed on slips of paper and then dropped by emptying bushels full off roofs and upper story windows. At times it felt like a snow storm of confetti poetry. I found this note in my chapbook.  The poem's form is my own, though tt might have been one of those compositions, or a sentiments I read and copied out from somewhere else once upon a time and now so long ago.

COUNT SLOBENDORF'S MISFORTUNE

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COUNT SLOBENDORF’S MISFORTUNE

He was unable to recall

When he had last seen the words,

“I love you,” form upon her lips.

Yet he still had trouble facing the truth --

The woman had sought only his fortune,

His titles, home, and money.

Then one day he began to feel that time spent with her

The same as the thought of life sentence in prison.

CATULLUS POEM 58, An Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem

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CATULLUS POEM 58,
An Adaptation of an Ancient Roman Love Poem
 


Johnny! It’s Lesbia*, our Lesbia,
The Lesbia, that girl Stanley loved, 
Loved more than self and all he calls his own,
Now at the Great Hall, Chicago, Union Station,
Up and down the polished marble floors,
She goes high-heeled, black boots,
Sports a short skirt, and an open blouse.
Corn, she husks corn,
For every last one of them,
For any spoiled son of Lincoln with a dollar in his pocket.
 
*Lesbia was the name of Catullus’ lover, the woman to whom he addressed his poetry. Her real name was probably Clodia. He did not mean her name to designate any kind of sexual sexual preference.

Carmen 58 (in Latin by CATULLUS)
 
Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa.
illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam
plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
nunc in quadriviis et angiportis
glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.

 

APOLOGY

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APOLOGY

You know that I have had no desire to hurt.

Sorry things have become bad for us.

This turn in our history

May have been beyond power to control.

Although, if at an earlier time,

Had I not been personally blind,

The outcome might have been different.

Perhaps we would have been spared

The farewell neither of us really want,

Or even at this late date, seem ready to accept.

Please remember should I say it wrong,

Or not put the many differences,

Grown between us in proper light,

Or that I seem to neglect

Honest obligations, or other things

You feel are by all right your due,

Know I have no desire to hurt.

My pain may well equal yours.

And whatever poetic power,

Seemingly so easy at my command,

It may not be enough to comfort,

To mend our damaged hearts and bring

The balm requisite to heal the injury.

How careless deeds and angry words

Have torn apart our once joyous spirit!

Know that I have no desire to hurt.

I feel my pain may well surpass yours.

I desire the best for you,

And as you already know,

Best for you will be good for me.

What I say are but words, gossamer,

Without true weight in the material world.

Still I promise to assist, to work

On your behalf and pray you realize

The love you have had for me

Was not a love in vain.

Know I have no desire to hurt.

My pain may well surpass yours.

I plea you forgive my faults,

However difficult the task may prove.

Please, recognize my limitations.

This turn in our history

May have been beyond power to control.

Although, if at an earlier time,

Had I not been personally blind,

The outcome might have been different.

Perhaps we may have been spared

The farewell neither of us really wanted,

Or even at this late date, ready to accept.

This turn in our history

May have been beyond power to control.

Although, if at an earlier time,

Had I not been personally blind,

The outcome might have been different.

Perhaps we would have been spared

The farewell neither of us really want,

Or even at this late date, seem ready to accept.

Please remember should I say it wrong,

Or not put the many differences,

Grown between us in proper light,

Or that I seem to neglect

Honest obligations, or other things

You feel are by all right your due,

Know I have no desire to hurt.

My pain may well equal yours.

And whatever poetic power,

Seemingly so easy at my command,

It may not be enough to comfort,

To mend our damaged hearts and bring

The balm requisite to heal the injury.

How careless deeds and angry words

Have torn apart our once joyous spirit!

A SONG FOR YOU, Etta

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A SONG FOR YOU,

Etta

You are not mine to keep.

I may never possess you.

I just wish to take care of you for a while.

You have lived for years and years.

Yet your life, you, you seem to have awaited me,

I wonder the truth, could it be,

Had a sweet fortune intervened

And destined us to share a story,

A book composed along these self-same lines.

Have we a tale which sat out time?

What insistence had me copy words from its pages,

That I might make them known,

And have world to hear and then to see

How I feel as I read them for you?

That I may open my mouth boldly, I have voice.

Truly, the wonder of it, this love,

The remembrance of things past, between us,

The foretold promise of happy future, laid before us,

The mystery of this love, this love.

And within this moment, our time and place,

Think on it. The breath of it, its immensity, a bit count,

It surpasses the number of the sands upon the earth,

That within my grasp I have tools ready for me,

The instant reference to books and words,

To every kind of journal, to bins and bins of photos,

And into virtual flat drawers with all the world's maps,

Billions of libraries whose lights, like stars,

Pave a milky way across heaven.

Up and down the country roads,

Along this big ol’ city’s streets,

You have had some tears and smiles,

And your plenty share of dreams and wish come true.

Yearnings never go out of style.

Do you ever cry when you‘re alone

When I am not by your side?

Do you silently wait for me?

Sometimes a panic disturbs me.

I wonder how so much in common,

The lovely child of our affection, such hope and promise,

Its beauty abandoned, left to the luck of the roadside.

I must trust in God and believe that He may direct

Kindness from a stranger, someone to hold us once more.

I know you have had lucky breaks,

Found fair quota of goodly things.

You can not be blamed.

Sure many were my mistakes.

You have lived your life putting on a happy face,

A stiff upper lip when presented with adversity

I write this song so you might know,

Should you happen upon trouble,

Fall into times of fear and woe, or nightmare,

When past demons beset you,

If one day you loose your course,

Fail to find comfort or prospect of clear resolution,

You have this verse, my love for you,

And yet, even now so late in the day,

I cling to the expectation that you recall the hours,

I sat behind the wheel, and delivered you safely home.

You are not mine to keep.

I just take care of you for a while.

You have lived for years and years.

Yet your life, you, you seem to have awaited me,

I wonder the truth, could it be,

Had a sweet fortune intervened

And destined us to share a story,

A book composed along these self-same lines. 

 

CATULLUS, POEM 85, Hate and Love*

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CATULLUS, POEM 85, Hate and Love*

I hate and I love,

You might ask, how do I explain it?

I do not know,

But I feel it happening and

It tears me apart.

*Original Translation, Stanley Pacion

Catullus, Carmen 85, Odi et Amo

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?

nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

BABE RUTH, Home Run Secret

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BABE RUTH,

Home Run Secret

I pick a good one and sock it,

Get back to the dugout,

They ask me, what it was that I hit?

I tell them, I don’t know,

Except it looked good.