- Danville, Virginia, USA
- June 22
- I was born in a refugee camp in Germany after World War II, and came with my Polish Catholic parents Jan and Tekla and my sister Donna to the United States as Displaced Persons in 1951. My parents had been slave laborers in Nazi Germany.
Growing up in the immigrant and DP neighborhoods around Humboldt Park in Chicago, I met Jewish hardware store clerks with Auschwitz tattoos on their wrists, Polish cavalry officers who still mourned for their dead horses, and women who walked from Siberia to Iran to escape the Russians. I write about these people.
MY RECENT POSTS
- Thanksgiving Day Poem
November 26, 2013 04:59PM
- The Day Kennedy was Shot
November 24, 2013 10:13AM
- Tornado Poem
November 18, 2013 08:28AM
- Old Jokes
November 14, 2013 03:04PM
- Falling Asleep: A poem
October 23, 2013 12:52PM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “Jan, you talk about the
end of all of with a poetic
that is enchanting.
November 26, 2013 10:36PM
- “JMAC1949, thanks for
reading the poem. When I think
thanksgiving I always
November 26, 2013 08:53PM
- “I don't know how you do
November 24, 2013 07:08PM
- “PS. Great mug shot of
November 24, 2013 07:06PM
- “I just finished reading
a book on the 60s called eve
destruction by James I.
November 24, 2013 07:06PM
John guzlowski's Links
- MY LINKS
Thanksgiving Day Poem
What were you doing the day Kennedy was shot?
I was a student in a sophomore high school geometry class.
The teacher read the message about Kennedy being shot and said, "That will teach him to ride in convertibles."
He laughed but no one else did.… Read full post »
We lived in the midwest for a long time, the flat country between the Mississippi and the Ohio River. We lived in Charleston and Normal and Peoria, Illinois, and we lived in Lafayette and West Lafayette, Indiana. We lived through four tornados and I don't know how many… Read full post »
I love old jokes. They're the people's true poetry, and remember, the older the joke, the sweeter the whine.
Here are some of my favorites.
A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Hey, why the long face?"
A man walks into a… Read full post »
Read full post »
you can hear it
in the night
when your body
and your breath
I posted the following poem recently in a thread about yoga that I shared on my Open Salon page.
The poem is called "Corpse Poem" after the yoga corpse pose (shavasana), a pose that often is the last in a series of yoga poses. In this pose you spread your legs/… Read full post »
Yoga: For 10 years I did yoga every other day, and then 3 years ago when I had my heart attack, I stopped doing it. Because of the open heart surgery, I had muscles misplaced in both my chest and back, and doing yoga was painful.
Today I started doing yoga/… Read full post »
The best part of deer hunting was of course the long night of drinking that always followed.
Out in a cold november night, drinking wild turkey under the stars, chasing the turkey with ice cold beer, lying about who we were when we were kids.
I always liked that… Read full post »
Happy Birthday, T. S. Eliot!
For those who complain about his seriousness, who read "The Waste Land," "Ash Wednesday," or "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and complain about the Latin allusions and the references to myths no one remembers, let me tell you Eliot had a… Read full post »
William Faulkner wrote some of the greatest novels of the 20th century, Absalom, Absalom, Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and created a fiction county across more than a dozen novels that is one of the greatest creations by any writer, any country, any language.
But when it… Read full post »
Short, Thin Poem
beneath the red wallthe clay waits
is no friend
Photo by GraÅ¼yna Niezgoda, Meksyk, 2000 Read full post »
This is a poem to be read in late summer while thinking about going to war to stop a war.
The Country of War
War comes down
like a hammer,
heavy and hard,
flattening the earth
as though a hot iron
had been taken to it,
killing the soft things:
children and ho… Read full post »
One of the things that the past teaches us is that there is really no end to the past.
I saw this in my parents. For them World War II never ended -- even after liberation, even after forty, even after fifty years. The war and the camps… Read full post »
I'm tired of war.
I was born in a refugee camp just after World War II, and I've lived through the Korean War, Vietnam, the first Gulf War, the second Gulf War, the War on Terror and the Afghan War.
This list doesn't include all the little… Read full post »
74 years ago on September 1. 1939, the Germans invaded Poland. Their blitzkrieg, their lightning war, came from the air and the sea and the sky. By Sept 28, Warsaw, the capital city of Poland, gave up. By October 7, the last Polish resistance inside Poland ended.… Read full post »
walks among us
when it feels
yearns for its sky
the way the wind
yearns for the sea
yearns to feel
in its dryness.
Heaney died at 74. He was a great and natural poet, just the kind of poet you want to read, a man of wisdom and beautiful words.
Here's one of my favorite poems by him. It's called "Digging."
I've been going through all those old poems of mine trying to patch together a new book of old poems. The poems go back 20-30 years and some are okay and some are so dreadful that no muse can fix them, and I wonder what I'm going to… Read full post »
This gathering of poems that Scream Online published started when I was reading a blog by the poet Oriana Ivy. She was writing about Czeslaw Milosz's "Second Space," a poem about heaven, and I thought it would be interesting to gather together a group of poems by vari/… Read full post »
A Reliquary is a container or shrine in which sacred relics are kept.
the sun comes late.
it's the end of august.
and behind the house
a woods as dark as winter. Read full post »
No words will bring them back.
Words will bring them back. Read full post »
Lao Tzu was a philosopher of Ancient China best known as the author of the Tao Te Ching.
Here's one of my favorite quotes from his great work.
"Do without achieving. Live like every day is tuesday."-- Lao Tzu Read full post »
Our Daughter Lillian is Outside Playing
In the quiet space of the dining room
My wife and I lay out the place settings
The forks beside the Wedgwood plates,
The spoons… Read full post »
Here's a link to an article about Hemingway's dreams of hell and heaven. It's based on a letter he wrote to Fitzgerald when he was 26.
In that letter Hemingway said, “To me a heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two barrera seats and a trout… Read full post »
Friday Poem: This poem is one I wrote long ago, maybe in the 1980s, during a really dry summer in central Illinois. People used to joke that the dust clouds blowing overhead were the fields of Kansas and Missouri, turned to dust by the everlasting sun that summer. The… Read full post »