What is the pain of a she-wolf!

At the sight of her puppy killed with a shovel…

Gregory Spis, a poet born in Poland, shares his poems

Gregory Spis, a poet, writer, translator/interpreter, born in Poland, writes and publishes his works in Polish, English and Italian. His calling card is the poem ‘Short Feature-tattoos’, which won first prize in London, in a poetry competition ‘Any Wonder’ and was published in the London weekly New Time. Later also in Literature Diary, which is published by the Association of Polish Writers Abroad and in the Polish Observer. Previously it was published in Poetry Kit, in the English version. His next poems, such as: ‘On the Booze’ or ‘Four Paws of Poetry’, as well as the very controversial ‘Tramway to Croydon’ were published in the London editions of the weekly Cooltura, New Time and Polish Observer. He is also known for his penchant for satire, an example of which is the cabaret-style piece ‘A Rush Hour Crash on the Tube’, which was also published in two language versions in New Time. An interview with the author and his poems were published and are published periodically in the Italian quarterly Rivista d’arte e scienza NOVA, edited by Antonio Limoncelli. In May 2018, he published his first, rather a bit scandalous, fiction book entitled ‘The Diary of the Interpreter’. This is his prose debut. Although the book raises important social issues, its narrative is maintained in a cabaret style and up-to-date. Blunt, anticlerical, illustrating the imbecility in corporations, as well as the role to which society, and especially women, have been reduced by the moronic church and its clericalism. You will find many funny and apt neologisms there. In addition, his works have been published in poetry anthologies in England, the USA, Italy, Portugal and Poland. In addition to his current works, he also translates English, Italian and Polish poets. He speaks English, Italian and German. He has also translated fragments of a book by Gianni Celati, entitled ‘Mr. Guidzardi Adventures’ from Italian, which was published in the quarterly Literature in the World. He is a member of The Association of Polish Writers Abroad in Hammersmith, London. He also belongs to London poets’ community; he is one of the poets associated with The Poetry Society at The Poetry Cafè and Croydon Poets Anonymous.

The pain of the cloud upside down

What is the pain of a she-wolf!

At the sight of her puppy killed with a shovel

The pain of a fox exiled to the suburbs

For hunger among houses

Dumpsters

The leftovers of human common sense

In a warm summer evening

The pain of a bird in the clouds at dawn

In eagle’s claws

She loses freedom nestlings

Life

A soldier torn apart by a hand-grenade

Partisan in the morning

In silence

In delight

Over the bird’s freedom

He saw its last flight high

He didn’t see the bullet

Hit his head against the fence-sky

White cloud

Crashed loud

Fell upside down

Freedom lasts for a short time

Between us.

COVID 19. 2020, London*

***

A Blue Glove…

Virions are crowning

My thoughts

There’s no way out

But fear

Before being in command

Of myself

I’m being attacked

By the two-way infiltration

Of reality

And dreams

Ripped off ferociously

Rough and ready

In fear about you

During the journey

To my memory

You disappear

Standing in front of me

Like a white

Alcohol-soaked wipe

You are leaving

A blue

Rubber glove for me

On the table

I’ve never felt

Your warm touch

In that way

Before

I’ve never tried

So desperately

To look in my memory

For your smile

Before it’s gone

In the blue waves

Of face masks

Flooding

Our identity…

[COVID 19 – the acronym comes from the compression of coronavirus identity. Here it’s to replace the month of April and stay synchronized with today’s date. April 19. 2020.]

***

The Red Rag to Terpsichore

For the beautiful ballerina, Elizabeth Taylor

The ballerina is dancing

Seducing thoughts

In a snowy cloud

Tutu cumulus

A white cloud of pain

Disappears quietly softly

Behind the curtain’s silence

You don’t see her

In the morning

In the window

The whiteness of milk

Startled in strong coffee

The lightness of a woman’s body

Ends

In a triumphant fusion of feet

In the bruises

In the lacerated skin of her toes

The scream of the red stain

In white mute canvas

In the smothered geisha’s foot

Feeding the sick vision of a male

In the arena of fragile life

A dead eye corrida

A cold war of thoughts

Ecstasy to first blood

Empty days

And…

In the end

Nobody will understand

What it’s got through

Thrown in the trash

A dirty bloodstained

Pointe shoe

At the top-point.

______________

 Coordinated by Angela Kosta Executive Director of the Magazines: MIRIADE, NUANCES ON THE PANORAMIC CANVAS, BRIDGES OF LITERATURE, journalist, poet, essayist, publisher, literary critic, editor, translator, promoter