If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley — but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.

-Douglas Malloch

In the world where being an average person is not trendy, it is the voice to listen to.

The rose
was not searching for the sunrise:
almost eternal on its branch,
it was searching for something else.

There are poems which come back with the question about your inner desire. We desire something different. But what exactly? This is only first line of the poem “Casida of the Rose” by Federico Garcia Lorca. He caught with his words something what is impossible to catch or to touch. Everyone has seen a rose, but what about desire?

you threw a word
a smooth bore stone
it plunged into the dark


A forest smells rainy. We are outside on a wooden veranda and we touch pebbles. Everyone has got her own pebble to learn about its temperature, texture, smell, taste… For this research we have only some minutes to make another step – writing haiku. Creative writing is an experience of intrapersonal communication and its effect – you meet your thoughts and you find your accurate words.

(Proofreading – Monika Bajer)

EN Nie mogę uwierzyć, że nie ma
innego świata gdzie razem posiedzimy
i poczytamy nowe wiersze
na szczycie góry i wietrze.

Tak pisał Frank O’Hara do swego przyjaciela. Mój ma na imię George.Odszedł kilka dni temu. Nie wierzę. Bo prawdziwi przyjaciele nigdy nie odchodzą. (Piszę “prawdziwi”, bo wiem, czym się różnią od fałszywych z własnego doświadczenia.)

Standing on a fragile bridge.
Probably halfway to the truth.
Neither sad. Not merry.

Who has ever felt like this? Today I have been asked about my favourite poem (written by me). I guess, among published this one which ends with these lines… I like.