A Visit with Allan Bazar
including his/my poetry
Hi! I'm Allan Bazar. I'm 78
(born in 1934) and have been writing poetry of all flavors and styles
for 50-55 years all the while doing the needful to support myself and
those dependent upon me.
The image above represents me through
many years and changes...
It is like my poetry which has a very strong visual element, is based
on me and my experience, and has/will have many levels of interest.
I am currently (at this very moment,
more or less) creating an image map of the above image which when
will enable us to click on any part of the image and be transported to
pages containing the original photographs from which the images were
extracted and maybe a word or two of creative explanation.
(The original painting was by Laurie
Litowitz who made a double portrait entitled: "Bazar in Oaxaca and
Bazar in Oaxaca Dos." I created the collage. I was, as one can see, a
50 at the time.)
The years have been kinder
than I would have expected. I still seem to be me.
It is my intention to include on this
page various bits of biographical material, poetry, perhaps some
stories and whatever the hell else comes to mind.
now suffer through another year when our young men and women have been
sent to fight a fruitless, useless, battle for survival because they
were dispatched into an area of frightful danger by arrogant, ignorant,
and incompetent cowardly men and women who, as sociopaths, woefully
any sense of compassion and who, as narcissists, filter reality through
distorted lens of their ideology. In 2003, as the Bush
administration was preparing for the war they thought would cover them
in glory I wrote the following and posted it in Poets
War. I reproduce it here:
my heart overflows with joy,
I weep for the babies who will
be wrenched out of this life they just entered
I weep for the old ones whose
lives will be instantly turned to dust and rubble
I weep for the adolescents from
whom the worlds they have yet to embrace will be destroyed
I weep for the young ones who
love has conquered but whose dreams will vanish in the night.
I weep, as well, for those
terrified weak leaders who send others to their doom yet who cowered in
fear when their times came.
I weep for their servants, the
bureaucrats of information who bark like dogs in the chorus of the
I weep for that sad, lost soul
who stands atop the dungheap of his own making with characteristic
smirk standing alone in false triumph praying that he may yet be a man.
Were he not so weak, so small,
so frightened he might have been great. I weep for that loss.
Yet my heart will not empty of
joy, but will find a place for sadness
as I weep.
There is so much joy available in this
world. For it to be besmirched by those pathetic creatures who
constitute the government is sad, indeed. Fortunately, though,
when we understand the nature of compassion, we do not need to allow
our sadness to overcome our ability to find joy, beauty, and wonder in
the world in which we are embedded. It is to the discovery and
enjoyment of that world that the poems herein are dedicated.
As the number of poems increases, I am
finding it necessary to prepare a Table of Contents, the link to which
I shall place here when or if it is completed.
At last.. another new poem... more or less.
I am pleased
to have finally added my most ambitious work, The Elements, on this
Elements is a long
poem on which I have worked for the past 15 - 20 years.
I offer it here to
this elemental world here
This world is the
world of the four elements: Fire,Water,Earth,
I do not use Front Page or any other Microsoft product in
the preparation of these pages. Thus, while the words and many of the
pictures that are associated with them are viewable on Internet
Explorer, they are best viewed using the Netscape 6.0 or higher,
Mozilla, Firefox, or Opera browser though the layout is not consistent
with any of them.
I have been creating, over time,
something pleasing to the eye, the mind, and the spirit. Meanwhile I am
start this section out with two of my more favorite poems: two of the
more sensual and recursive ones. I hope you enjoy them. These poems
reflect the similarity between the behaviors of love and creativity.
[Insert Smiley Face here!]
Oh Gaze With Me
[[I must warn you that if you do not
have broadband, the backgrounds (which are worth waiting for) on some
of the following poems (Dreams, In Another Sense, Waiting, Tunnel of
Love, and Rainbow in particular) are rather large files and, unless you
have broadband, as I do, will take a little while to load. Please wait
for them. They are an integral part of the poems.]]
I suppose I will organize these poems
The following one would come under the heading of Love Poem. It is a
love poem to the universe and to someone who for many years has held a
special place in my heart:
This poem is inspired by and dedicated
Catherine Vaughan (Aug. 28, 1950 to Aug. 26, 2000.) She was an artist
and lived artfully. Her media were fused glass and life. The fused
glass remains with us. Her passionate love of life lives on in my heart
The following prose poem is
in honor of Jane Porrit who was a dear, dear friend who died in 1984,
the very day her restaurant, a lifelong dream, was to open. A
memorial to Jane was written by Marilyn Renaker with the title:
"She danced it, The only dance there is, To the full."
When you read the poem, do so with the knowledge that Jane occasionally
spun yarn with her beloved spinning wheel.
Here're some more poems......
This speaks more of an idea and use, if I may so say, of
Be warned, there is not much more here
than meets the eye....or mind.
or is there?
Again, if you do not have broadband, the
graphic backgrounds will take a few seconds to load on some of these:
All of them do have graphic settings.
This poem was written
originally in San Agustin, Colombia. I was struck by the teeming life
in the "jungle" in which the stelae were situated. A fallen tree had.
without hesitation it seemed, become not so much a symbol of death but
the source of new life:
A Rainbow's Dream
I had been hurrying south on this
little adventure but ended up staying two weeks in the little town
watching and participating in the rhythms of life.....
Here is a story I wrote while I
was living in Trinity County, California in a log cabin in the canyon
of the South Fork of the Trinity River 11 miles from the village of
These are part of a series I
worked on when I lived in Oaxaca and fine tuned recently for inclusion
They might be called prose poems by those who like to label,
categorize, and pin anesthetized or, even,
still wriggling beauty to velvet.
And... I might ask... why not?
Why not what?
Oh shut up and read!
in the Bar (This poem was inspired by
many evenings and weekend afternoons in the Cedar Street Tavern in New
York City in the '50's. I was usually introduced as a "young Brooklyn
poet" in those days though I considered myself to be a slightly lost
(This one was inspired by a dream
during a period in which I was reading a lot of Jungian "stuff"--Hey! I
This poem is among a
group I call "tone poems." They are all about surfaces and textures.
The musical reference is not unintentional nor is the choice of the
of this text..
Of course, all
writings that appear here are copyrighted by me. If you are interested
in using them for any purpose, please contact me before you do so.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.