My grunts vibrate over the North Pole,
travelling right thro’ the growing ozone hole,
then bounce and rise to the silvery moon…
So well I can scream and howl, and even croon!
Then I overdo acting, like the misbegotten hams,
And I roar louder, to drown the deafening drums.
I also throw my weight around, jerk for all I’m worth!‘Cause
I’m the First, the Only, Idol of the North
Poetry by Stanislaw Kapuscinski (a.k.a Stan I.S. Law)
Ice sculpture and project in Gesso-duro by Bozena Happach
I liked staring, unblinking, into the setting sun
painting the mists of far, far-distant, endless sea.
Since I was but a little, lonesome, fearful boy
sunsets made me elusive, protected, strangely free.
I sat there looking at raging, insatiate orb of fire.
I––tiny, innocent, gazing at what might be…
Tomorrow? The day after? Perhaps even forever.
Beyond time and space, beyond the endless sea.
Now I am old and hunched, still gazing at the sunset.
No longer dreaming of future––still lonesome as can be.
I now dream of the past, of days left behind,
when I first sat here, alone, on the old, gnarled tree.
Poem by Stanislaw Kapuscinski (A.K.A Stan I.S. Law)
Sunset, bronze sculpture by Bozena Happach