I.

O silence… let the departed rest, unsaid, here is the whisper… and there’s a pale stag in rut, a dream half-fed, unaware, transgressing the…

In a coil, my mind, a delicate embryo’s cradle, I thread through the street’s snares, a poetic wade, In squares, flowered beds, and gardens…

We ventured back, my loyal hound and I, from the edge of shadows black, where, like a serpent sly, the light did twist and ply, of the…

Freedom is said to reside where no man dwells, it’s dull, lame, sore and ugly - to a point of excess.

By Grażyna Tatarska (in Martin Smallridge interpretation, translated from polish)

We’re back…

By Bogusław Michalec (in Martin Smallridge interpretation, translated from polish)

I happen to write poems. Sometimes I even let someone reading them. Yet I do not know whether it is right. Often, after a careful reading…

Our guest for this expose is a young and talented writer Dusan Pejakovic, who is increasingly conquering the narrowly built upper echelons…

Mornings tend to be cold cautious cat stays away from the cornice windows steam and innocent trees are redden by autumn leafs

in Marcin’s Malek interpretation

Interpretation of Lothar Herbst poems by Marcin Malek

Here where sky leans over the well  gazing into the surface of rings like a stork morn is painting ponceaus over the clouds threading with…

Józef Czechowicz (15 March 1903–9 September 1939) was an avant-garde Polish poet. Recognized as a lonesome, nostalgic and catastrophic…

As always since the earliest words dot after dot we aim the first row

Deep into a gloom and doom of a restless night

On the 100th anniversary of the birth of Krzysztof Kamil Baczyński