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| | AlefPage 9 of 22 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22) | | ahhhh, the muse has returned, thankful are we who love you jer. | |
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| Alef
Posted: 11/10/2008 4:25:22 PM | ah, so this is the culmination of the email you sent me....I don't need to tell you how good this is, and worth the wait.... | |
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| Alef
Posted: 11/10/2008 7:18:07 PM | Jer this was wonderful......especially this
My people are of earth
and were reborn
after Auschwitz, Buchenwald,
Chelmno, Dachau, &c.,
&c.,&c.,&c.,
&c.,
the whole alphabet
of calculated human bestiality.
lest we forget......working in a Hospital that is Jewish....the 11th of November always moves me to tears...bestiality is SUCH an appropriate moniker
I am entitled
to wear my father's medals
he is no longer here
like most of his colleauges
but I will wear them
as a tribute
and testament
to those who perished
but whose memory will
forever be cherished | |
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| Alef
Posted: 11/11/2008 7:13:46 AM | | Thank you, luv, for your comment on my poem and for the addition of yours. | |
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| And yet each of us has had a mother
Posted: 11/25/2008 8:11:19 AM | Each of us has had a mother.
We knew her only in that singular,
huge role, those life- and comfort-giving
breasts, those arms on which we rested
as we suckled, as securely as we ever would
in our lovers’ arms, our fortress built
upon a hill or in some gated or otherwise
safe community. We knew her in those eyes
that looked down tenderly as we drank
from her. Before we had words we did not
think her “mother” but life. We were
a perfect, closed symbiotic system
then: she gave life to us and we
gave her an occasion to love
beyond her wildest dreams. We never knew
her as the one-time school-girl, dreamer
of diverse dreams, the bride, young wife,
that once she’d been. We did not know her
as Mabel or Kate or Jessica or Ann,
those names and personae by which others
knew and cherished--or chafed-–her.
And we grew up to be bankers or poets,
fathers or mothers ourselves. Some of us,
alas, troubled by this or that, grew up
cruel or confused, lashing out.
Some of us are dry, wretched, bitter
and aching to hurt someone or other.
And yet each of us has had a mother. | |
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| And yet each of us has had a mother
Posted: 11/25/2008 8:47:42 AM | Beautiful sentiment Alyosha but, some of us had mothers who were
cruel or confused, lashing out.
Some of them were dry, wretched, bitter
and aching to hurt someone or other.
Yes, each of us has had a mother. | |
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| And yet each of us has had a mother
Posted: 11/25/2008 9:35:16 AM | Beautiful sentiment Alyosha but, some of us had mothers who were
cruel or confused, lashing out.
Some of them were dry, wretched, bitter
and aching to hurt someone or other.
Yes, each of us has had a mother.
So sorry to hear about that, duality, and all the more tribute to you if you’ve managed to survive that upbringing and become the sort of mother you wish you had had. | |
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| And yet each of us has had a mother
Posted: 12/3/2008 8:20:43 AM | Morning Jer, this was written late last night in that other place to celebrate my wonderful teacher Amera's birthday.
Stars nova, weeping loss
Yearning darkness inhaled galaxies
that God replaced gently, effacing time
With Gaia's blessings
came the Daoine Sídhe
Angels who took no side
in God or Lucifer's
crimson handed combat
Earthbound exiles
never to enter heaven or hell
Trailing radiant dimension's
storm clouds in their wake
Eons passed unnoticed
Feasting in palace mounds
and riding lily-white palfreys;
braided ribbons, charms and bells
in their tossing manes and tails
Through sweet-grass meadows
singing praises to the moon
A daughter of man drew close
to the quicksilver music one eve
As she listened was transformed
bright moonlight, married her soul
Her heirs carry this Elven gift
rare art and silver-tongued poetry
sometimes skipping generations
Yet full flower in lovely Amera
Penning soft-moonlit magic
to charm her loving friends | |
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| What value has this modern life
Posted: 12/3/2008 11:12:38 AM | Hi alyosha, welcome. I pose a question for you in rhyme about modern youth, misconstrued freedom and crime and I wondered if you could mabye stage a reply as to why we are losing all control of the direction of the future. Something that was striven very hard for in the past. Am I missing the point, or are we abondoning our youth to create their own urban jungle, reason and rhyme, their own rule of internal law and suffering. And it is to this I ask ....
What value has this modern life?
Earnt with blood,
Sweat and strife.
What value holds commercial t.v.,
Whom by its products we will never be free.
For what did our forefathers fight,
The right to delight in the suffering of others?
Or the right to turn and look the other way,
When youth mouths off at everything today.
How cold is the coolness that is promoted,
To which the value of family is demoted.
I don't blame the youth astrewn on the streets,
I don't blame the grimey beats.
I wonder why they are so alone,
To gather together,
Their own actions to condone.
A new family wedded to the knife,
What value has this modern life? | |
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| What value has this modern life
Posted: 12/3/2008 2:03:30 PM | | Gradboy... the only answer I'm able to give to these heartfelt questions is that these are questons it is important to ask, that the asking them is already part-way to an answer! | |
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| And yet each of us has had a mother
Posted: 12/3/2008 2:04:00 PM |
Stars nova, weeping loss
Yearning darkness inhaled galaxies
that God replaced gently, effacing time
What an extraordinary poem! How more confident and more fluent you grow, from poem to poem! | |
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| One Day a Stranger Will Drop in on You.
Posted: 12/20/2008 8:43:01 AM | One day a stranger will drop in on you.
He will look like your favourite uncle
or the principal of your primary school.
But you will know he’s neither of those.
You will wonder if he’s on a mission
or has a message for you.
“No,” he will say, “I was just passing by
and I was tired and thirsty and your door was open
and I wondered...
if I might have a glass of water?”
You give him one and watch
his Adam’s apple bob up and down.
You feel how refreshing he finds it
and try to remember when anything
last refreshed you as much.
He has two kids, you learn, who live
far away and a wife he loved, who left him.
But he seems to be at peace with all of that.
You wonder if he has a secret.
Everyone has a secret, you think,
and you long to tell him yours... | |
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| I am Losing Myself
Posted: 1/10/2009 12:56:34 PM | I am losing myself to myself
sexually, she thought. The downward
rush of her breasts
is carrying with it all confidence
in her femininty and without confidence
in herself, what woman
can get loved?
I said “loved,” she thought,
because any woman can get laid
here in downtown North America!
For the boys, every night
is Hockey Night in Canada:
He shoots! He scores!
Because - look - no one is minding the net. | |
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| I am Losing Myself
Posted: 1/10/2009 1:17:05 PM | ah you prince of loneling
you who have dug and dug and dug
into the pysche of a woman's heart
to find the bobbits of her soul
ruined and luminous
matters not
you love us all
and paint us
with your fierce and truthful brush | |
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| I am Losing Myself
Posted: 1/10/2009 2:40:37 PM | | Thank you, CC! (Apparently that was too short to be posteed...) | |
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| I am Losing Myself
Posted: 1/10/2009 3:03:52 PM | Jer, quite a cool snapshot, how the heck can you say these things with no offense meant or taken, must be your inner Rabbi/spiritually in tune side, this is wonderful...
"I am losing myself to myself
sexually, she thought. The downward
rush of her breasts
is carrying with it all confidence..."
And C, you both are giving me shivers of pleasure exchanging such truthful beauty.
ah you prince of loneling
you who have dug and dug and dug
into the pysche of a woman's heart
to find the bobbits of her soul
ruined and luminous
matters not
you love us all
and paint us
with your fierce and truthful brush
| |
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| Honey Down the Line
Posted: 1/22/2009 4:18:32 AM | for VB
Honey Down the Line
I have this long-distance friend
I call up now and then
often when I’m feeling blue
and I don’t know how she does it
but she just pours honey
down the line...
Honey down the line,
honey down the line,
I swear that woman
just pours honey down the line!
She must keep
a big mother vat of it
close by the phone
and when my name comes up
on the call-display
she just unstoppers the bung
and gets ready to pour,
gets ready to pour,
gets ready to pour
that honey down the line!
I swear that woman
just pours honey down the line! | |
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| Somewhere between the headlong rush
Posted: 2/4/2009 4:33:34 PM | Somewhere between the headlong rush
for love and the slow dispirited push
of a slug lies the balance you seek:
like the steady, timeless slosh
of the ocean, from valley to peak
to peak to trough you call
out to her, “Lover? Where are you? Speak
to me, please ” And you hear your voice fall
on the silence, the night, on the dark. | |
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| Chat between myself and my IR
Posted: 2/10/2009 11:47:02 AM | “Don’t!” says my IR (Inner Rabbi).
“But, Rabbi–“
“Listen to me, please!”
“But you haven’t even heard
what it is I want to talk about with you...”
“You and I both know
that whenever you want to talk with me
it’s about something you already know
you shouldn’t do.”
“But at least, please, listen–“
“Half of man is sinning...”
“And the other half?”
“The other half is ruing it.” | |
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| This love
Posted: 2/22/2009 7:22:35 AM | This love
my grand-daughter has for me
hits me square in the chest
every time we see each other,
makes me feel
I’m so much better
than ever I aspired to be. | |
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| Honey Down the Line
Posted: 2/22/2009 2:02:39 PM | I just read this "honey down the line" poem
I don't know if you realize that you just wrote a song that is very comparable to hip hop songs that sell for top dollar...
seriously Jerry; if Kanye picked this up you could make some cash....
MUCH better than most songs written today. I know this is a poem; most likely written without much effort... but it is an example of quality writing that could be out there instead of some of the junk...
it's "poppy" in it's feel; but ironically the basis for much of modern hip hop today...
thanks for this perspetive Jerry.... I love it!
T | |
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| Honey Down the Line
Posted: 2/22/2009 2:27:49 PM | | Many thanks, Tenz, yeh I felt afterwards that it could be a song and my #1 son, lead singer and song-writer for The NewMen is presenting it to the gang to see what they think. But they mostly do head-banger sort of stuff & I think this would benefit from something different from that. | |
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| I live just over the hill
Posted: 2/25/2009 5:16:47 PM | I am my neighbour's neighbour
I live just over the hill.
Most evenings
I walk around the block.
I have no dog but
I admire those my neighbours have.
I am my neighbour's neighbour.
I hear rumours from downtown
that things aren't going well.
I live just over the hill.
I am the friend of a few I hold dear.
I live just over the hill.
Wednesdays I work at the neighbourhood Mission.
I am my neighbour's neighbour.
I live just over the hill. | |
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| Pete Seeger
Posted: 3/1/2009 2:54:25 PM | I carry my life lightly
within this hard-knit body,
a body that has served me well,
lo, these many years.
My songs have been my body.
I can hardly tell the two apart.
But though I sang against
injustice, the rape
by the wealthy of the poor,
my secret, underlying message
was joy! Joy! | |
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| Pete Seeger: II
Posted: 3/3/2009 4:58:28 AM | Pete Seeger II
Watch the faces
of the kids in classrooms
as Pete encourages them to sing
This land is your land..
Their eyes afire with joy
This land is my land
Watch their faces
and I defy you
not to hope
From California to the New York Islands
and I defy you
to be cynical
I defy you
not to do what we all must do
to keep the children
and hope alive | |
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