All of the interviews on Paul’s blog – The Wombwell Rainbow – are interesting and worth your time. Paul’s doing a fabulous job. I have selected Bozhidar Pangelov’s interview to feature today because it includes a tidbit of a reference about what it is like to be a writer and lover of literature in times and places of repression. Though those of us who came of age during the Cold War are conscious of this, I often wonder about younger people. Perhaps I’m just out of touch. Bozhidar also shares some thoughts on authenticity that I appreciate as well as his practical perspective on the poet as professional.
At any rate, many of you are familiar with Bozhidar’s work since he is a frequent contributor to The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt (as is Paul) and he has also been featured on this site before.
My thanks to both Paul and Bozhidar for permission to share this interview with you here today. And thanks to Paul for doing this series. I think it’s a real contribution. / J.D.
Prolific Yorkshire Poet, Paul Brookes
PAUL BROOKES (The Wombwell Rainbow): “I am honoured and privileged that . . . poets, local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.
“The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too…”
Bozhidar Pangelov
BOZHIDAR PANGELOV (bogpan – блог за авторска поезия блог за авторска поезия ) was born in the soft month of October in the city of the chestnut trees, Sofia, Bulgaria, where he lives and works. He likes joking that the only authorship which he acknowledges are his three children and the job-hobby in the sphere of the business services. His first book Four Cycles was written entirely with an unknown author but in a complete synchronicity on motifs of the Hellenic legends and mythos. The coauthor (Vanja Konstantinova) is the editor of his next book Delta. She is the woman to whom The Girl Who… is dedicated. Bozhidar’s last (so far) book is The Man Who. A bilingual poetry book A Feather of Fujiama is being published on Amazon as a Kindle edition.
Some of Bozhidar’s poems are translated in Italian, German, Polish, Russian,Chinese, Turkish, Arabic, Romanian, Portuguese and English languages and are published on poetry sites as well as in anthologies and some periodicals all over the world. Bozhidar Pangelov is on of the German project Europe .. takes Europa ein Gedicht. Castrop Rauxel ein Gedicht RUHR 2010 and the project SPRING POETRY RAIN 2012, Cyprus.
Bozhidar’s pen name “bogpan” means “god Pan” – in Greek religion and mythology.
The Fourth Century St. George Rotunda is considered the oldest building in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, the city in which Bozhidar was born and lives. Photo courtesy of Sveti Georgi underCC BY 2.0 license.
The Interview
What were the circumstances under which you began to write poetry?
I have the feeling that I have always written poetry. At home we used to have quite rich book library. Throughout my awkward past the (the political system), reading was a way of having a life in another worlds. Can you imagine that there used to be long queues for each translated book from a foreign author! Well, eventually the cause of writing my first poem was quite funny. Me and a friend of mine used to be in love with the same girl. The conflict about who is going to meet her was resolved after each of us wrote a poem. Romantics of the youth.
2. Who introduced you to poetry?
To answer this question I would like to make some clarifications concerning the educational system in my country. In that system literature is considered as a compulsory subject and leads to serious exams that allow you to apply for a higher educational degree. In the study books are included national as well as international authors. In that aspect, if you like literature you just start writing.
3. How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?
During the time when I was young, the government used to dictate names of poets, but I have always been a rebel and that’s why I never accepted any names. Later on, when the political system changed what remained was my love and amusement by the great worldwide poets.
4. What is your daily writing routine?
I am not a professional poet and I don’t need to write every day to earn my living. Certainly I don’t trust poems written by professional poets because in most of the cases these poems have unclear aesthetic values and are there to satisfy the popular reader’s taste.
5. What motivates you to write?
The emotions. Despite the fact that everybody feels the defined emotions as love,pain and etc., each person senses them in their own unique way. The thought that inevitably exists in a poem rests between the conscious and unconscious. I think that a poem written only by the conscious effort of one’s mind is rather a short essay or a short novel. Still there should be a cross point between poetry and prose and for me that’s the emotions.
6. What is your work ethic?
George Seferis [Georgios Seferiades] (1900 – 1971). One of the most important Greek poets of the last century, a diplomat and a Nobel laureate.I understand this question as related to writing. Ethic for me means to write a “real” poem. Now I sense the forthcoming question which would be what is the criteria or how would you determine what “real” is. A possible answer to this question is the one of the Nobel winner of Greek origin Georgius Seferis, who answers to a similar question in the following way: “But he must somehow have an instinct—a guiding instinct—which says to him: ‘My dear boy, my dear chap, be careful; you are going to fall. You are exaggerating at this moment.'” In this sense my instinct tells me that it’s an absurdity to expect everybody to understand poetry. Whoever wants to understand everything can read newspapers or magazine news. Still it’s uncertain that one will understand everything. At that point I would like to remind the following thought of T.S. Eliot: “Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.“
7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?
Youngsters, who tend to get highly impressed after reading an author who relates to their inner self remember this artwork and this author which remains forever in their subconscious no matter if they are aware of it or not. That’s how the model works, which we reproduce in our own way. A poem doesn’t emerge from the nowhere.
8. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?
Considering my experience and age it’s hard for me to get impressed. I just get extremely happy when I come across with an author, who has his/her own unique style, who is distinguishable from the majority. I would like to point at one single name, so I don’t miss out on some of my favourite authors. Stefan Goncharov – a young poet, who established his presence in a quite powerful and mature way just within few months time and having in mind that these were his first poems! As I can say – this man was born a poet.
9. Why do you write?
With writing I’m trying to express the inexpressible.
10. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?
In case that your question is – how can I become a professional writer, I can’t reply. I guess that this is something you can learn at the creative writing courses. For me this question has never been important. I just write. I think that if one wants to become a good writer, not only many books need to be read, but that person at a certain point needs to forget about all the knowledge and without a fear start writing in the way of expressing his/her own thoughts and feelings. To be honest with himself/herself and without thinking how to be liked by the readers. There isn’t an ultimate audience of readers that is there to like your writing. Here I would give a longer quote from the interview with Georgius Seferis – Henri Michaux “You know, my dear, a man who has only one reader is not a writer. A man who has two readers is not a writer, either. But a man who has three readers”—and he pronounced “three readers” as though they were three million—“that man is really a writer.”
11. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.
At the moment I don’t run my own projects. I’m engaged as an editor of the monthly magazine, New Asocial Poetry. We are preparing surprises for the published authors and new sections. There is already a new section for translations from mostly English language. At this point I would like to say that most of the young people know English, but unfortunately only few people for whom English is their mother tongue know my language. Maybe the reason for that the Cyrillic alphabet is mistaken for the Russian alphabet. Historically is exactly the opposite. Translations require hard work, especially when the literature is created in another language. For that reason we came up with the idea of having a new section for foreign literature dedicated to foreign authors who are a living example for language’s application and usage. All the authors, who are interested in participating in such project can read more about it HERE. .Whoever wants to learn more about the publishing requirements is kindly invited to apply with his/her literature by contacting me at newasocialpoetry@gmail.com.
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. Currently I run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded. I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers.
My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
“These verses believe; they love; they hope; that is all.” Arthur Rimbaud, Complete Works
The house that does not exist
(Ah, Shiraz, the Nightingales sing
at night)
nothing but the whole
hope exists
(do not sell carpets with
patterns, Fatima).
There the river flows into
River. As a dream in
dreams
(he speaks nothing of sorrow
already, you with a veil ).
They quietly sing,
sing without being heard,
without having them.
Quietly, they quietly squeeze
the fingers of my hands
The poem above was Bozhidar Pangelov’s (a.k.a. bopan) response to my short story, The Damask Rose Garden, a fairytale meant to bring attention to the lives of refugees escaping areas of violent conflict.
I’m always held breathless by the lyric beauty of Bozhidar’s poems. English is not his first language, so he’s the more impressive for that.
According to one reviewer, he “has been present among contemporary Bulgarian poets for some time, a long time. He is a poet who manages to disorder the order of the usual in order to breach a material world for a more human world of ideas and feelings. Using dramatic tensions within the poetic and semantic, Pangelov’s spare yet verdant imagery evokes the sound of bamboo sticks and Zen Buddhist monks, poem after poem.”
Writer and poet Palmi Ranchev says, ‘Pangelov will enrich the palette of world poetry with new colors and nuances.’
Of what I’ve read to date of Bozhidar’s work I’d have to agree with these analyses. However spare his poems are, they are never stark. They are never rigid. There’s movement, color, feeling. The sharp edges of pain are all the more striking juxtaposed against the subtleties of his style. Lovely!
“There the river flows into
River. As a dream in
dreams”
Visit Bozhidar’s blog. He often shares poems there that he has written in English and – sometimes – we are fortunate to have Bozhidar participate in Wednesday Writing Prompt.
Poet and writer, I was once columnist and associate editor of a regional employment publication. Currently I run this site, The Poet by Day, an information hub for poets and writers. I am the managing editor of The BeZine published by The Bardo Group Beguines (originally The Bardo Group), a virtual arts collective I founded. I am a weekly contributor to Beguine Again, a site showcasing spiritual writers.
My work is featured in a variety of publications and on sites, including: Levure littéraure, Ramingo’s Porch, Vita Brevis Literature,Compass Rose, Connotation Press, The Bar None Group, Salamander Cove, Second Light, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Meta / Phor(e) /Play, and California Woman.
Thank you for sharing your love of words. Comments will appear after moderation.
“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” W.B. Yeats
These responses to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt, in praise of all hallelujah, perfect and fractured, June 20, are painfully wise and honest and moving to the point of tears. Times are hard, no doubt about it. Well done, Bozhidar Pangelov (bogan), Gary W. Bowers, Paul Brooks, Debbie Felio, Carol Mikoda, and Marta Pombo Sallés. Thanks also to artist/poet Sonja Benskin Myers for including her illustration along with one of her poems.
So here is our gift to enrich your day. Please do join us tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt.
Hallelujah for the deprived
the church (is) carved
on a steep hill
on broken glass
images
crunched under the footsteps of wild animals
which rarely pass by
pieces of wind and stone slabs
falling from names
(the names go away)
we sold our lives
a hand cuts off the wrist
no live cypress trees
or birds
the past starts
and the shadows do not move into the grave
„poor my Jorik“
you have never been born
those deprived of time
cannot die
they do not know how
a host of horrors greet us each day
multitudes of madnesses
economies of scale sing hymns
ailing rotting-on-the-inside riffraff
make holy homemade videos
that go virulently viral in stupefying style
scores bursting at the seams about to crack
en masse we raise voices
This! Life! is astonishing
life on earth
with its variegations in virtue
imperfections impressive in their number
it is good nevertheless this creation
find a statue or painting of god
that’s not a little bit broken
let alone one of us humans
Rejoice!
ever-morphing clouds
roll across the storm sky
to release, in their fractures,
photon beams
across swarming humanity’s home
until Hallelujah! a stunning sunset show
Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA paintings (This is her Facebook page, so you can connect with her there as well as view photographs of her colorful paintings.)
As always I am fascinated by how varied are the responses and interpretations of a given prompt, in this case Ms. Weary’s Blues, January 24. No newcomers took up the challenge this time round but we have engaging – even intriguing – responses from Colin Blundell, bogpan, Paul Brooks, Kakali Das Ghosh, Renee Espriu, Sheila Jacob, Sonia Benskin Mesher and Anjum Wasim Dar. Thanks to these intrepid and talented poets for coming out to play.
Please join us tomorrow for the next prompt. All are welcome no matter the status of career: novice, emerging or pro. It’s about showcasing your work, getting to know other poets and exercising the writing muscle. Meanwhile, enjoy these poems …
there’s one way
and another way
and a third way
of doing things; but it’s useful
to think of doing things
‘otherwise’ as the Master said in line with
what (gazing at the bridge of his nose)
his grandmother told him:
viz ‘in life never do as others do;
either do nothing—
just go to school—or do something
nobody else does’
when she promptly died…
this my children
and my children’s children
is what I would have you
take inside your uttermost being:
never go along with the herd;
never copy others; let your uprush
of learning be your very own
never dependent on others
and not to eternity the predefined will happen accidently
but to a cry
unheard and clear and the sermon that will BE
to shelter the torn off grains in the summer
the sunspots priest in the reflections
of the water
in blue
Sunblaze drinks thee pint as it were after doing thee a favour, stop thee brain box from wondering
an thy art beholden to it for doing so. Then mizzle sets on tummeling down, drizzles like it were making gourmet dish of the day with attractive swirls.
And ice cold thinks you owes it a living, serrates your bones like a decent knife sharp butcher
Who knows which cut hurts most and where to prolong the wound so it slowly bleeds out a sunset.
Blues ,my measly blues pursued me
Emerging from the bottom of that grave gorge
Surging from the waves of that deep ocean
Sprouting from the storm of that black forest
Blues ,those insistent blues
never waved to me a song ,a farewell song
And followed me unto rocky mountains and flowing rivulets
Chased me to red plateaus
and dusty desserts
Halted I -where golden beams reflected from a broken mirror
Where a phoenix arose from its ashes
Where pearly rains oozed from a misty cloud
And where a scarlet dandelion peeped from a rocky chest
And by my astonishment
I lost my blues ……….
Footsteps of my measly blues —-
I will leave you the peace in my soul
that will find you in the love of my heart
for I will leave you the memories shared
whether joyous dancing on the stage of life
or sadness fading in the shadows of day
for life has woven me a colorful garment
with silver threads of nature’s wisdom
that has hollowed out a place for you
where warm you will be in the sun’s embrace
followed by the path of a starlit moon
within which voices will sing in stardust
to lull you to sleep at the end of each day
where always you will wake to bird song
within which you will hear my voice true
giving you the peace within my soul
surrounded by the love within my heart
we have a memory or two. the world goes dark, we teach and learn, wait for light to appear
it is the way of things, while there are birds. while you read, you will not understand all words, that is the way of things.
it is natural, it is what they do, they live in the wild. . we have no power, they, no disgust that reels and kicks. yet while small birds live, they too will die. like us.
drift. in air, in words. symbols of poetry, cut and pasted. literally. naturally .
everyday tiny things sing.
when some small birds have failed and gone others sound just the same.
in moments when engulfed is the spirit
with warmth unseen, who makes existence
tremble and shiver? as beads moist appear
from nowhere, soon to transform
one to coolness…doors of sight
half shut, flipping up and down,
‘reach out, a voice calls
you hear, ‘help me, oh please, help,
I can’t see, it is so dark and
I am so weak, ‘heat ‘dark heat, go …
put on some Light’ O Light’
Light Upon Light’
blues surround as blackness shifts, is it
going to lift or grow less? am I awake ?
or sinking, or rising, ascending into
more darkness…darkness before being
and darkness after? I am not aware…
my being is being created, in fluids unseen
I have no voice, nor breath, it is not Death?
I float and swim, it is so dark…
put on some Light’ O Light’
Light Up The Light’
who do I call? who will hear?
Who will come near? who will bear
the pain and make me well again?
It is The Light The Truth The Unseen One
that is the Character, No Myth or Matter
Look up , it is day…it is full of Light
Look up, it is night, it is bejeweled with Light
Light Upon Light ‘ and The Book is Bright
and when I once was, in the blues
I did not know what would be
listless weak helpless was the spirit
in me, would I be? or would I be no more?
doors of sight dimly saw the “saline drip” bag
drop by drop, drip drip,dropped the drops
would it be dark soon? or ..as I lay…slowly
darkness flew away, brightness made its way
before I knew , brighter it grew till I
could bear no more
Light it was Light all over me, Light
Upon Light Upon Light, it did stay
till my heaviness was light and
my blues faded away, away far away
Light the Healer, Light is Blue, see the sky?
up high or see the sea below
layer upon layer, vast boundless in view
why blue is the color of peace?
Celeste Marion is painted in this hue’
tis holy and sacred and true’
To have hope is good to pray is best
chose the good blue, but be not in the blues’
Light Upon Light is the Ultimate Truth
Turn towards it to be out of darkness
Be Guided, out of fear, out of all ‘fright’
what I leave behind and what I may take
the good deeds I do the joy I make
the help I give the needs I fulfill and all
what for the Lord I share…for Life is a test
and to be grateful is the rest
I will go for ‘life is a journey not
a destination’ …from darkness to
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