My favorite poem

The first time I heard poetry read aloud by a “real poet” was at Lyon College by Ioanna-Veronika Warwick, a Polish poet. She read from a collection of poetry she’d just published, entitled “Remembering Mr. S. and other poems.” I bought a copy that day and got it signed by her. I was fascinated with the art of poetry read aloud… the sound of it, the words read aloud by the person who wrote them, tiny mysteries explained (not all of them, but just a sneak peek into the thoughts of the writer). After that day in high school, I was hooked. For an aspiring writer, that was all it took to catapult me into becoming motivated to keeping endless journals of my own poetry for the rest of my life.

So here’s my favorite poem by Ioanna-Veronika Warwick. It was my favorite that day, and it still is.

“moje serce

You ask me to say
some love words in Polish
I hesitate
afraid you might not like
the hard h in the verb for love
but you lie still and trusting
as if expecting an unknown
moj mily
moj zloty
moj aniele
my angel
my own
my golden one

it’s California
January the unstoppable sun
beats on the pillow
I whisper the eternal banalities of love

it’s Los Angeles I take you
to another country
streets muted with snow
early in the morning
before footprints

protected by a language
you cannot enter
I coo the extravagant

moje serce
my heart

that’s what I want you to be
before falling asleep I repeat
the brief
syllable of your name
like a heartbeat

it’s hard
giving you up
the room
snowy with light
I whisper moje serce
and you
whisper back
it sounds wonderful
go on

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