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 AUTHOR
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 476
Snapshots: 07/Mar/09Page 20 of 52    (12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52)

peaking in and see your memory
so similar but more modern
was my mother to me
lighting the shabbat candles....

my father standing
at the other end of the table
kiddush cup in hand,
old yellowed stained
prayerbook in the other
waiting politely for my mother
to speak the sabbath prayer
in hebrew...always in hebrew....

always open to us children
without hands covering her eyes
while my three brothers and I
across from each other sitting in two's
occasionally would have to
pull ourselves in with such
strong determination
not to fall into fits of giggles....

each year at passover
now it is just my parents and me
with one aunt and a friend or two
joining us as family...
it is the one time these days we do
the 'grace after meals'
with melody written so beautifully
and always....always I can hear
my brothers singing along with me
remembering each week on Shabbat
we'd each lead it.....consecutively....

some moments with family you never forget


Shvester! Tochter! Thank you so much...
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 477
Snapshots: 07/Mar/09
Posted: 3/7/2009 8:04:30 AM

such simple beauty
such simple truth
~rosie


Oh, Rosie, thank you so much for "getting it." Whatever it is - beauty or something else - I always strive to tell it simply, in something like a conversational voice. This poem of mine, for instance:


May I?

My I offer you
the bread of comradeship?
The salt of truth?
The wine of deep remembering
...and the courtesy of my heart?


I was proud of it but then I had a moment of self-doubt: Was it any different from what a kid in fifth grade might have written? And wouldn't some readers wonder if that was precisely who had written it?

But then I thought, it has taken me so many years and so many poems to learn how to write as simply as that! Thank you, again.
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 478
view profile
History
Snapshots: 07/Mar/09
Posted: 3/7/2009 8:38:55 AM
Jer, ee cummings language is simple, his meaning is profound...Robert Frost and Robert Burns use plain language which affects the reader deeply in their own simple heart...

I understand what you are afraid of, I've read other poets so lyrical, reading their words is almost like a music in my mind...in contrast, my own style is quite plain. I will probably never be a Rumi or a Neruda...

There are times you've written me, admiring the spareness, the simplicity. I would like to take this opportunity to return the favor. I really liked this poem, because of the intricate simplicity. Each word was well placed, no word was wasted.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 479
Snapshots: 07/Mar/09
Posted: 3/7/2009 9:04:33 AM
There are times you've written me, admiring the spareness, the simplicity. I would like to take this opportunity to return the favor. I really liked this poem, because of the intricate simplicity. Each word was well placed, no word was wasted.


You do suspect, I hope, that I'm ga-ga nuts about you! (But don't worry, it's not purely intellectual and/or spiritual!!!!)

Rosie, thank you so much!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 480
Snapshots: 07/Mar/09
Posted: 3/7/2009 1:59:01 PM
Just ahead of me
a young woman
pushed an empty stroller
followed close behind
by a little paddler
in a maroon snowsuit,
Paloma,
a foot and a half tall,
a year and a half old,
singing her own song:
Anh-anh-anh, anh-anh-anh
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 481
Snapshots: 09/Mar/09
Posted: 3/9/2009 7:54:58 AM
The cafe was almost empty
this morning,
which made me think
of a church
in which one could feel
God’s loneliness.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 482
Snapshots: 09/Mar/09
Posted: 3/10/2009 8:03:16 AM


glasses

He was born with my beautiful brown eyes
and also my sight and his mothers
without which he might be perfect

when I walked into the classroom
he saw me without glasses and waved hi to me
it had been a long week and I missed him so

his glasses were broken wrapped in a santa stocking
the bend in the frames suited the curve of the sock
just a stray foot on the playground

he sees with or without his eyes


How I love this, bro, the seeming effortlessness of it. Reminds me of an aphorism I once composed: "Love is effortless attention."
 60to70
Joined: 7/28/2008
Msg: 483
Snapshots: 09/Mar/09
Posted: 3/10/2009 10:51:57 PM
John grew up despite his mother
Anna never knew the male ghost who lived beside her.

This was both a mother, father.
Then I was young, adult, freewheeling.
A hand against on my throat,
a voice anguished, shouting...
"let them go...live, love your damn life!"
Oooh...I...will. certainly try.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 484
Snapshots: 09/Mar/09
Posted: 3/11/2009 5:25:14 AM

John grew up despite his mother
Anna never knew the male ghost who lived beside her.

This was both a mother, father.
Then I was young, adult, freewheeling.
A hand against on my throat,
a voice anguished, shouting...
"let them go...live, love your damn life!"
Oooh...I...will. certainly try.[/quota]

What were those inspired words by one of the Star-Wars characters: "There is no try. There is only do" - and you do do!
 WeAre1
Joined: 3/18/2008
Msg: 485
view profile
History
Snapshots: 10/Mar/09
Posted: 3/11/2009 6:45:25 AM
she was standing
on the cabinet
to see out the window
for she was tiny
no more than two feet tall
yet perfectly a lady
in her two year old body
suddenly she spun around
and slowly slowly creeped
to peer around the corner
of their huge tv
and there I caught her
looking at me
together we smiled
as our giggles
shared our glee
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 486
Snapshots: 10/Mar/09
Posted: 3/11/2009 8:57:02 AM

she was standing
on the cabinet
to see out the window
for she was tiny
no more than two feet tall
yet perfectly a lady
in her two year old body
suddenly she spun around
and slowly slowly creeped
to peer around the corner
of their huge tv
and there I caught her
looking at me
together we smiled
as our giggles
shared our glee


How lovely! Thanks
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 487
Tell Me, Jesus
Posted: 3/16/2009 9:41:10 AM
Tell me, Jesus, which hurt more?
When you saw the rich oppress the poor?
Or the saints who barred the sinners at the temple door?

Tell me, Jesus, which hurt more?
When they offered the rabble in the yard
the root or the corrupted leaf
and they cried out: “Give us the thief!”

Tell me, Jesus, was death the sharper pain,
or having to rise, to rise again?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 488
Tell Me, Jesus
Posted: 3/16/2009 10:56:25 AM

I was going to comment on this in another thread

glad you posted it here in my morning meditation routine

it reminds me of what I went through with my first divorce

I was told from a baptist minister that I could live my whole life in the light; or live it in sin

and Jesus would still love me..............
sheesh!

I know he loves me; but it doesn't matter how I sin
thats what I am


Bugs the aitch out of me when people use Jesus to serve their own purposes!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 489
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/17/2009 5:10:14 AM
At La Moulerie
a middle-aged woman
in a tall, imperious hat
sits across the table
from an older man,
who mumbles his food.
 60to70
Joined: 7/28/2008
Msg: 490
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/17/2009 11:29:52 PM
And at the moment both departed.
a wide-open mid-life man
did not understand
why that older woman
could even eat?

Wrong, only one wrong
You eat to see the sunrise
should you not, then you
become the leaves
littering, turning
to Ground.
 60to70
Joined: 7/28/2008
Msg: 491
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/18/2009 10:50:11 PM
With utter abandon
Nothing frees like braless
Nothing feels better than sorrow
Zinging through my dubious human marrow!!!

On this day in July of '74
A crow landed on my doorstep
then transformed to a goblin
eating at my soul...but music saved me
Eerily a whiter shade of pale
catapulted me beyond your craving.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 492
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/19/2009 8:01:04 AM

With utter abandon
Nothing frees like braless
Nothing feels better than sorrow
Zinging through my dubious human marrow!!!

On this day in July of '74
A crow landed on my doorstep
then transformed to a goblin
eating at my soul...but music saved me
Eerily a whiter shade of pale
catapulted me beyond your craving.


Alas, I've never known the joy of going braless! Nor of being released, at last, from prison...

But in this marvellous poem what am I to make of these puzzling lines:


Nothing feels better than sorrow
Zinging through my dubious human marrow!!!


Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!
 60to70
Joined: 7/28/2008
Msg: 493
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/19/2009 11:20:25 PM
Answered elsewhere. Actually, the poem comes, you write, and if you don't edit well... I was trying to write just a hoot. Darn. Substitute joy if you wish. Sorrow lives often beside the ability to experience joy.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 494
Snapshots: March 15, 2009
Posted: 3/20/2009 4:55:46 AM

Answered elsewhere. Actually, the poem comes, you write, and if you don't edit well... I was trying to write just a hoot. Darn. Substitute joy if you wish. Sorrow lives often beside the ability to experience joy.


I missed the other answer, but will look for it. But yes, I have sometimes wondered if those who do NOT experience sorrow, deep sorrow, can fully experience joy. And vice-versa?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 495
Snapshots: Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 3/23/2009 9:08:20 AM
Thanks, Collateral & Balance... I guess all we need now is Compound Interest!
 pickles51
Joined: 9/22/2008
Msg: 496
view profile
History
Snapshots: Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 3/24/2009 4:03:29 AM
I wrapped the night around me
a cloak of invisibility
safe at least for the moment
With the dawn
I relished the river of golden light
beckoning
a path I would tread
marking the new certainty
of my life
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 497
Snapshots: Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 3/24/2009 7:37:35 AM

Alyosha, you are so charming, funny, witty, intellectual, a professor and convincing entertainer2. Goodness...


How much further do we need to go before we make Anthony (?) jealous!!!?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 498
Snapshots: Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 3/24/2009 9:59:44 AM
"good morning"

I always imagined it would feel just like this. After all this time I have been going through life day to day without you in it. Now we've made love. I can't imagine now how I'm going to feel without you laying next to me. I guess I'm just happy in a longing state. Could I help you dress? I'll find you a shirt down at the foot of the bed. One that wasn't hurled with passion when I first undressed you last night. I'll find one that was in your drawer. Folded neatly and put away. Not like the shirt I tore from your breast in the early hours. Can't we just stay here for awhile? Until morning leaves and planes take off. I don't want to go.


How wonderful! Have you shown it to her yet? If not there's just enough time to change without you laying next to me to without you lying next to me

(Unless, that is, the person this is addressed to is a hen?)
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 499
Snapshots: Alyosha's Thread
Posted: 3/24/2009 1:32:59 PM

Lol Alyosha, ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Anthony Jealous? Ok, let's simmer down here. I have a request that would not make Anthony jealous. Alyosha, I am well aware of how perfectly you take snapshots of society in general. I was wondering, would you take a snapshot of a US infantryman (with our beloved Anthony in mind) - with your own dashing poetic wisdom and stunning style, and kindly place it on my thread? That should beef up this heroic beefcake's emotional piggy bank, lol (hehe)
Pleeeeeeeeeease. Pretty please?


Check your thread and send a cheque in the amount of $1.95 to your favourite charity.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 500
Between Poems
Posted: 3/27/2009 4:37:35 AM
Between poems, you are nothing.

But you are never
between poems, really.
You wrote one
a few minutes,
a week or a month ago
and several fistfuls of them
before that,
but the contract was always the same:

You may write this next poem
provided you give up any certainty
that you will ever write another.


And so
you apply yourself even harder
to your job,
hang out at your cafe or bar
or seek another one,
you fall in love
or out of love,
you write letters to the editor
but forget to post them.

And you wait.
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