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Bound,
not for an eternity
Transient, this existence

Untethered,
bond with freedom
Know the boundaries
~
June 2025
HP Poet: Agnes de Lods
Age: 47
Country: Poland


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Agnes. Please tell us about your background?

Agnes de Lods: "My name is Agnes (Agnieszka), and I come from Poland. I grew up in the countryside, in a family rooted in rural and small-town traditions. My mother is a very intuitive person, and my father was always standing in the last row, quietly helping others, especially people with disabilities.

My parents gave me two ways of perception: seeing with the heart and with the mind. They didn’t have higher education, but our home was full of music, books, radio talks, and documentaries that showed the world in many dimensions. They helped me see that reality is full of tension and harmony, depending on what we pay attention to.

They gave me space to speak in my own voice. Growing up close to nature, I spent time observing, listening to the rhythm of the seasons. I learned humility, compassion, and what it means to face hard work and failure."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Agnes de Lods: "In Polish, I’ve been writing for four years. In English, two or three. But in a way, I had been preparing for it all my life by writing, reading, and observing the world around me.

I started sharing my reflections on Hello Poetry in December, just a few months ago. For the first time, I felt ready to express everything I had kept inside for years."



Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Agnes de Lods: "People. I love people. Every single person has a story. Sometimes strangers stop me in the street and start talking. I guess they want to be heard, and I love to listen.

Nature inspires me. And my dreams, too. Some of them come true, others do not. Still waiting for those lottery numbers to show up in a dream.

Books are also a huge source, just like music and art in all their forms. I am inspired by Karolina Halatek and Hania Rani, Marc Witmann, Umo Vide, Dror Elimelech, and Patricia Suarez (Colombian poet and painter), and many others."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Agnes de Lods: "Poetry is exceptional on every level. Metaphors express the unspeakable and have real power. They change the frequency of thought.

Poetry heals, invites contemplation, and opens doors to the many layers of human nature.

To me, poetry is sound, color, scent, even taste."



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Agnes de Lods: "Sylvia Plath, Alejandra Pizarnik, Wisława Szymborska, Adam Zagajewski, Czesław Miłosz, Jorge Luis Borges, Pablo Neruda, Federico García Lorca, and many more.

I also read poems on Hello Poetry, and I am so glad to see many truly talented writers here. It means this world still has a chance."



Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Agnes de Lods: "I am fascinated by psychology and archetypes. I read Jung with deep interest.

I love sci-fi, deep conversations, walks in the forest, and learning new languages. But more than anything, I care about human connection and understanding.

I like to dance and play the piano, though I have not had much time for that lately. And I love connecting the dots."



Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Agnes, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Agnes de Lods: "Thank you so much for letting me share my story. I am so glad to be part of this community of sensitive souls. I feel good here."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Agnes a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #29 in July!

~
Every day, I open my reality:
I wake up.
I feel.
I choose.
I decide—
knowing so many others
are crying behind the scenes,
and their trembling is raw.

Pain isn’t consolation—
it reinforces the structure of fragility
when the towers are crumbling.

At the core, we return,
squeezing black-and-white struggles
into our veins, into our memories.

To the only home
we never left
our own body.
The first and the last.
"Money can't buy everything."
Oh, sure it can.
"It can't buy happiness,
It can't buy friends."
Of course it can.
"Perhaps you're right,
But they'll never be real."

So what?

Math is fake,
Economics is fake,
Language is fake,
And yet,

It is what's fake that allows us to cooperate.

"But money corrupts!"
For sure, so what?
My friend was earned, not bought
By kindness, not cash.
Yet still, for twelve years we have been
Fake friends.
And one day she left
Because my value was spent.
I don't need money to have fake things.
I can get those for free.
"But why would you?"
Because it meant something to me,

Real or not.

"Oh, but money is greed."
Of course, greed is as certain as gravity.
So why did the tree fall?
"Gravity, of course!"
As if gravity wasn't there when it stood for forty years.
Ah, right.

Perhaps it was the axe.

So, why did my friend leave?
Certainly not greed,
That was there when we got along.
"Because she was fake!"
As if she wasn't fake for twelve years.
Ah, right.
Perhaps it was...

Well I'm not sure, you'll have to ask her.

I buy fake jewelry.
Because I can't afford the real thing.
And I care not for luxury,
So long as the substitute won't turn my skin green.
And even then,
With a clear coat of polish,
I'm satisfied and the goal is accomplished.

So what if it's fake, it's still pretty to me.


𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬
𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥,
𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭.

𝐎𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬,
𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥,
𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭.

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞?
𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.
patient, optimistic travelers
gliding soundlessly along
moving walkways while sun falls
across gleaming surfaces
of aluminum, glass and peace
Juice of an orange
Spilled over the dark rain clouds
Last coral sunset
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