Arthur Q. Kromwelle

Arthur Q. Kromwelle Poems

Arthur Q. Kromwelle Biography

Born on the farm of a failed Englishman in the struggling Midwest-America in the late 40’s, I found myself drawn to the whimsical nature of life early on. After having found a book of old Chinese proverbs in the treasure chest of my belligerent mother, I broke into a flurry of inspiration and started writing my first haikus. By the time Kennedy was sworn in, I had hitchhiked my way to Greenwich Village in New York and was actively participating in poetry slams and coffee houses. This is where I was first introduced to eastern mysticism on a drug induced worship experience. Soon I found myself at the front of the civil right movement, thrust forward by the momentum of collective social responsibility we were all feeling. Freedom was in the air, and we would soon find out that freedom isn’t free. In 1970, my activism led me to Kent State University. When the bullets came down like hail, I lost a friend and fellow freedom fighter Happy Joe. Joe had taught me everything there was to know about the history of progress, feminism, peace culture, and freedom. It was right there and then that my life took a drastic turn. I embarked on an epic journey of self discovery, soul wrenching, and redemption. The next day I was on a plane to England, where I would meet with the members of the black brigade. I helped them out for a while, living in their communal housing and sharing their drugs, swapping stories about my homeland and all the things it wasn’t anymore. Grounds were shifting, and I felt the wind of change blow the sails of my spirit. Restless, I left London and made my way to soviet occupied eastern Germany. The ideals of Marxism appealed to my socialist ideals. While living in a crummy apartment in Berlin, I kept on writing songs and poetry. I stuck around for a year before my wandering soul yearned for change. After a series of trains, planes, cars, and many kilometres on foot, I arrived in the communist republic of China. The great wall loomed before me, and though associated with a restrictive regime, it was as though the very bricks of freedom piled up in front of me. I cannot remember what I did in China, for it was one giant drug fueled haze. Mysticism had taken deep roots in the very being of my soul. Through a series of events I ended up in Nepal, being nursed by a Hindu sensei. Ever since then I have been writing, and writing, and writing. Read these poems like a map to my soul, like the pages of a book to be read only by those who seek to truly believe. May the freedom of our fathers, the patience of our mothers, and the hope of our children dwell in you, my dear friend.)

The Best Poem Of Arthur Q. Kromwelle

Cafe Paris

Somewhere in Paris
A quaint café.
Quiet and soundless
A starry night
The city it sleeps
The Frenchmen await
A small revolution
Tonight
Somewhere in Paris
A quaint cafe
Waiting for change
Dawn of a day.

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