Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Sharing the Delight in Chopin's Music - More Poems for the Spring (Vol. 9, No. 3)

Lilac, By Maja Trochimczyk

The Chopin with Cherries anthology of Chopin-themed poems was published by Moonrise Press in 2010. Perhaps it is time for an update and a follow-up? There have been many more poems about Chopin written since then.

Vintage Postcards ca 1900, Krakow. From Chopin with Cherries.

One collection is found on the website called "Hello Poetry" (https://hellopoetry.com/words/chopin/) where I read  whole series of poems from around the world. Here's a sample that resonated with me.  I'm illustrating the poems with my photographs of spring flowers from Descanso Gardens in La Canada, CA. For music interludes, I picked some interpretations by Valentina Lisitsa, whose expressive  hands create magic on the keyboard. There is one by another Valentina, Igoshina, who looks just oh, so romantic, in her ballgown by the piano...

Crocus by Maja Trochimczyk


Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin - find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that that was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

by Tiana

Forget-me-nots, by Maja Trochimczyk

It is raining Chopin

It is raining Chopin

Reminding me that together we are an arpeggio
Alone, I am played in legato
I plant myself in every horizon and
at one end of each rainbow; the other end belonging to somebody else.
I watch the clock and can tell it is 8:00 when the train passes
but I can’t see the hands move.
It is 2012 not because of the fireworks in
limbo between December and January, but because
I can feel the red yarn in me tightening –
I have less.

By Emma

Azalea, by Maja Trochimczyk


torrential teardrops join pavement
transforming surface to sheets of glass
patient trees plants flowers quenching their thirst
stray animals bemused hovering with caution
only to find shelter in the rustic shed
the good Samaritan leaves scraps
through the makings of savory soup
passing cars washed in rain
will sparkle come sun
lounging indoors focusing through drenched windows
raindrops like opals
pattering on copper roof
cascade as peaceful shower
fairytale sound, sight and smells
invite nestling with a book
cup of tea and scone complete the pallet
with glowing candles
a sanctuary of Chopin preludes
surrendering to peaceful sleep

by Lorilynn

Magnolia reflections, by Maja Trochimczyk

Melancholic Chopin

Such passion flows from fingers

that scale the controlled embellishments
of Chopin.
The melodies swirl in your brain
as you try to imagine caressing
the ivories with every female voice
that Chopin encountered.
Expressing profoundly the experience
of Chopin's work cannot be described
on paper.
It must be felt.
Only then will you find passion in its raw form.

by  Wíštfûł Wáñdêręr 

Lilac, by Maja Trochimczyk

                        Listen: Chopin's Waltz Op. 69, No. 1 in A-Flat, by Valentina Lisitsa

I danced

There on that Orange flavor

I danced on a stick of cinnamon
The aroma from the petal blue berries swishing past the Gum trees.
I danced through the night with awareness of the other side.
There I touched the essence of hew.
Oh true dancing on a sonnet from Chopin.
Swans on the canal swimming sweet tunes of yesteryear, oh 
to be there again ..oh the Green grass.oh to touch the green grass
that moves to your innocent love.oh lovely.

Come dance all around the world.

by RGKirk

Azalea Forest by Maja Trochimczyk

Come Listen

Come listen to.

Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen

The sun dapples in adjectives

in a language without words.
The movement of the leaf
like the dance of the honey bee.
Through a turmulent stream of hellos
they talk to each other.
Can you hear them my darling?
Come listen to.
Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen.

Not many can, anymore.

If ever they could (which I doubt).
Ancestors of flat grey we paint
with colorful commentary,
but it's too much to hold.
It's too much to believe.
Their ears-- closed as their scions.
Come listen to.
Come listen by.
Come listen, come listen.

You can train yourself--

your ears, your eyes.
to catch the whispers of 
nightlace and dayfire.
Like the small entices of 
old friends-- long lost.  
Forever there.
The Chopin of the rain,
the Dead Kennedys of  
eyes in the night.
Just listen to.
Just listen by

Just listen, just listen.

by Pete Badertscher

First apple blossoms, by Maja Trochimczyk

In films, Chopin's music appears often, especially TV series from Korea and China. Whenever there is a scene of luxury, someone enjoying their villas, their wines, their riches, there is Chopin in the background. Whenever there is a scene of melancholy love -  "happiness in the rain" sort of thing - there's Chopin. Whenever there is a sweet nostalgic moment of someone who lost a loved one - there is Chopin.  Sometimes, Chopin's music appears as contrast: when a vicious killer, gangster, an all-out-evil person, sits there and listens to Chopin while plotting new crimes. But that is rare. "Beauty for beauty" seems to be the main "topos" associated with the expressive use of Chopin's music on the small screen. And why not?
Violets, by Maja Trochimczyk

The majority of poets I encountered on "Hello Poetry" also used Chopin's music as a starting point to reflections about love, desire, loss, missing someone desperately or remembering fondly the nights of gentle kisses and wine-red-hot passion... But there is so much more than that, so much more than that... As the last poet in the series above has noted. "Come, listen..."

Lilac, by Maja Trochimczyk

But I would not be a poet loving Chopin, if I did not have the last, poetic word on my own blog. I wrote about Chopin and violets in 2014 (http://chopinwithcherries.blogspot.com/2014/02/chopins-roses-and-violets-and-spring.html). Yes, he definitely loved the delicate scent of violets.

On 21 November 1848 Chopin wrote to his friend Wojciech Grzymala to with instructions how to prepare his apartment for his arrival back in Paris: "On Friday, order a bouquet of violets so that the parlor is fragrant - let me have some poetry at home, upon returning."

Spring is...

...the poetry of violets
mist of lilac perfuming 
the air outside your window

Spring is...
...veiled by the Nocturnes - 
Chopin's notes floating up
into galaxies of nocturnal light

...sweetened by white hyacinth  
announced by the lively whistles 
of red-winged blackbirds in your garden

Spring is...
...forgetting darkness, oh, 
the densest, most suffocating 
darkness of death, winter, killings

... dark memories erased
by the flutter of sparrows' wings
and flurries of piano notes carried by wind

Spring is...
...the magic of the Minute 
Waltz and a half-forgotten melody 
of the nightingale - calling you back home, 

into childhood, back to Poland, not yet lost - 

(c) 2018 by Maja Trochimczyk

Anemone, by Maja Trochimczyk