הרהור

,דַּפִּים לְבָנִים, צְחוֹרִים כַּשֶּׁלֶג
,כְּתוּבִים בִּדְיוֹ בִּלְתִּי נִרְאֵית
.סְפוּנִים בְּתֵיבַת עֵץ מְקֻשְׁקֶשֶׁת
,אוֹת לְאוֹת נִסְמֶכֶת, מִלָּה לִשְׁכֵנָתָהּ
,שׁוּרוֹת צְפוּפוֹת שֶׁל זִכְרוֹנוֹת תּוֹעִים
,סִפּוּרִים כְּלוּאִים מִזְּמַן אַחֵר
,וּבֵינֵיהֶם אוֹרְבוֹת אִמְרוֹת שֶׁפֶר
.מִתְחָכְּמוֹת, מְדַגְדְּגוֹת, מִשְׁתַּעַשְׁעוֹת

,זְרִיחַת יַלְדוּת
,בֹּקֶר נָעַרוּת רַעֲנָן
,עִיר שֶׁתִּהְיֶה גְּדוֹלָה
,שְׂדוֹת עֵמֶק שֶׁיַּבְשִׁילוּ
,צָהֳרֵי בַּגְרוּת, בַּיִת שֶׁיִּתְמַלֵּא וְיִתְרוֹקֵן
,עֶרֶב שֶׁל חַיִּים אֲרֻכִּים
.וּשְׁקִיעָה נוּגַהּ

,מַבָּט נוֹסָף, שׁוּרוֹת מְרַחֲפוֹת מִתּוֹךְ הַדַּף
,מִלִּים מוּכָּרוֹת, מְלַטְּפוֹת, דּוֹקְרוֹת
.מִישֶׁהוּ כְּבָר אָמַר אוֹתָן פַּעַם
,זוֹ הָיִיתָ אַתְּ? מָתַי
,אוֹ שֶׁזֶּהוּ הַסִּיפּוּר שֶׁלִּי
.מַמְשִׁיךְ לוֹ, כָּאן וּלְבַד

 

Thought

Clear pages, white as snow,
Written in invisible ink,
Stored in a scribbled wooden box.
Letter by letter, word by word,
Dense lines of stray memories,
Captive stories from another time,
And among them lurk fine sayings,
Smarting up, tickling, acting playful.

Childhood sunrise,
Fresh juvenile morning,
A city that will grow large,
Valley fields that will ripe,
Maturity noon, a home that will fill and empty,
An evening of a long life lived,
And a gentle sunset.

Another look, lines float out of the page,
Familiar words, caressing, piercing,
Someone had said them before.
Was that you? When?
Or is this my story,
Continues, here and alone.

 

November 12, 2018

בתום

,בְּתוֹם הַסְּעוּדָה
,מוֹחֶה אָדַם אֶת פִּיו
.שְׁיָירֵי מָזוֹן, טַעֲמֵי תַּבְלִין
,זֶה הַשָּׂבֵעַ
,אֲשֶׁר קְדֶירָתוֹ מְלֵאָה לִגְלֹשׁ
,וְזֶה הָרָעֵב
.שֶׁפִּיתּוֹ דָּלָה

,עִם רֶדֶת יוֹם
,עוֹצֵר אָדָם מֵעֲמָלוֹ
.זֵיעָתוֹ מִצְטַבֶּרֶת, עָיֶיפוּתוֹ גּוֹבֶרֶת
,זֶה הֶעֱשִׁיר
,אֲשֶׁר תְּבוּאָתוֹ פּוֹרָה
,וְזֶה הֶעָנִי
.שֶׁשָׁדֶהוּ דַּל

,בְּסוֹף הַמַּסָּע
,נָח אָדָם בְּיַעֲדוֹ
.דּוֹאֲבוֹת רַגְלָיו, אָבָק הַדֶּרֶךְ בִּבְגָדָיו
,זֶה שֶׁהִרְחִיק לֶכֶת
,שֶׁבָּטַח צַעֲדוֹ
,וְזֶה הַתָּחוּם
.שֶׁרַגְלוֹ הִסְסָה

,הַהַצְלָחָה מִי יֶשוּרֶנָה
,פּוֹרֵשׂ אָדַם אֶת מוֹרַשְׁתּוֹ
,מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ, חֲבֵרָיו
.שוּתָפַיו לַדֶּרֶךְ, אַף אוֹיְבָיו
,מִי יָהִין לֶאֱחֹז בָּמוֹשְׁכַה
,לָצֵאת וְלַחְרֹשׁ
.לִמְשֹׁךְ בָּעֹל

 

At the end of

At the end of a meal,
A man wipes his mouth,
Food parts, tastes of spices.
There is the satisfied,
Whose bowl full to overflow,
And there is the hungry,
Whose bread slice is meager.

At the end of a day,
A man ceases from his toil,
His sweat accumulated, his weariness growing.
There is the wealthy,
Whose crops are plentiful,
And there is the pauper,
Whose field is poor.

At the end of a journey,
A man rests at his destination,
His legs ache, the road dust in his clothes.
There is the one who traveled far,
Whose stride is assured,
And there is the restricted,
Whose step uncertain.

Success who shall foresee,
A man displays his legacy,
His family, friends,
His road companions, even his enemies,
Who is brave to hold to the bridles,
Go out and plow,
Carry the load.

 

July 12, 2018

2 A.M.

Trees of forest,
Quiet brook,
Cool air breeze,
Light rain on grass.

Smell of foliage,
Sense of wild,
A timid step,
Stroll into light.

Quiet lake,
Reflecting skies,
Licked water ripple,
Disturbing sight.

A sudden rustle,
From behind,
A quick jump, runner,
Leaps into hide.

 

July 18, 2015

Dreaming in Black and White

An invisible nip pen,
Deeps in veiled well.
A dark dot forms,
On virgin paper.

More specks follow,
To form letters and words.
A line grows,
Like coal raindrops,
On a bright day cloud,

Short lines, longs strokes,
Comma, comma, full stop.
Backhand pushes against the paper,
Fingertips darken slowly.

Page follows page,
Turned by fresh thoughts breeze,
Ideas keep flowing,
From a dream.

Writing hastily each vision,
Right as it appears,
Inscribed pages,
Accumulate in a pile.

Short anecdotes, long tales,
Pages fly in the dark,
Captivating stories,
Late into the night.

Stay out there, don’t wake up,
Sleep tight ‘till they’re done,
Once you open your eyes,
They’ll be instantly gone.

 

February 25, 2015

Four Quarter Love

This party’s nice and special,
I like the dress you wear,
Second hour English,
I sit three chairs left, rear.

How do you like this music?
The DJ’s fun and hip,
This song he played is awesome,
Would you like to dance a bit?

∗∗∗∗

This spot is great, let’s sit here,
The view is nice and clear,
I have some wine and glasses,
Here is to us, dear, cheers!

I wish to ask you something,
My mind is in a twist,
I love you to the heavens,
Will you accept this ring?

∗∗∗∗

I have an early meeting,
Can you run kids to school?
I may be late this evening,
We need to join a carpool.

Let’s call the babysitter,
Go on a date, tonight,
We need to spend alone time,
Sit somewhere and just chat.

∗∗∗∗

I need another blanket,
The room is chill again,
The grandkids called this morning,
They’ll visit over the weekend.

Can you please draw the curtains?
The evening shade had set,
Our program’s coming on soon,
Let’s rest and watch in bed.

 

September 20, 2011

יאוש

,שִׂיחָה, וְעוֹד שִׂיחָה
,מִלִּים חַדּוֹת, קֵהוֹת רֶגֶשׁ
,מָחוֹג הַזְּמַן חוֹלֵף לוֹ
.בְּמַעְגָּל סָגוּר

,בְּמַבָּט קְדִימָה
,קַו יוֹצֵא, נִמְתַח
,פּוֹנֶה וּמִתְעַגֵּל לוֹ
.אֶל הָאוֹפֶק לֹא יַגִּיעַ

 

Despair

Conversation, and another,
Sharp words, sans emotion,
The clock hand passes,
In a closed circuit.

In a view forward,
A line is drawn, stretches,
Turns and curves,
Never makes it to the horizon.

 

December 3, 2018

Flat Earth

Exciting times are here upon us,
Full of promises, advances,
Tech afforded, automation,
Piles of data, mounds of bites.

Worldly thoughts, ideas high-minded,
Profit high and nations build,
War and peace, tectonic clashes,
Men continue to achieve.

From the print press to the wide web,
Words amassed to Mars and back,
Theorem, proof, the flood gate open,
Reason set aside amass.

High degrees and faux science experts,
Loud self-made men spewing “facts”,
Doctors, masters, eight grade dropouts,
Ready manifest at hand.

Earth is flat and here is why so,
Moon land mission? Was a hoax!
State is spying on your person,
Put aluminum hat on!

Ocean deep misinformation,
Science world struggling to respond,
Much like Dutch boy, standing helpless,
Fingers tired in a dam.

Facts aside and reason passé,
Stupid cannot be undone,
Move with caution, study deeper,
Truth made not to argue on.

 

August 1, 2019

Leftovers

Bread crumbs,
Pieces of food,
Drying on a table,
After a meal.

Petals,
Leaves of a flower,
Wet on the ground,
After a storm.

Teacups,
Echoes of conversation,
Circles on a glass top,
After a visit.

Prayer,
Whispers of hope,
Absorbed into the soul,
After a ceremony.

Longings,
Impressions of love,
Fading in time,
After a breakup.

Rainbow,
Arching of colors,
Glistening in sunlight,
After the rain.

Hope,
Filling the heart,
Ushering future,
When all else is gone.

 

April 14, 2019

כנפיים

,הַלַּיְלָה שׁוּב הָיִיתִי שָׂם
,חוֹזֵר לְהַמְשִׁיךְ אֶת שֶׁהִפְסַקְתִּי לִפְנֵי דּוֹר
,מַמָּשׁ כְּמוֹ שֶׁהִבְטַחְתִּי לְרַב סֶרֶן מְעוּטָּר
.בָּעֶרֶב הַהוּא, כְּשֶׁהַחֲלוֹם נִשְׁבָּר

,רִיצָה אֲרוּכָּה, הִתְנַשְּׁפִויות
,סְבִיבִי אֲנָשִׁים זָרִים
,בְּמָקוֹם מוּכָּר
.שֶׁשּׁוּם דָּבָר לֹא הִשְׁתַּנָּה בּוֹ, גַּם בַּחֲלוֹם

,רֵיחוֹת מִדְבָּר מְיוּחָדִים
,מַדִּים חֲמוּצִים, זֵיעָה צוֹרֶבֶת
,וְגוּף דּוֹאֵב תְּמִידִית
.מִמַּאֲמָץ שֶׁאֵינוֹ מַרְפֶּה

,בַּמְּצִיאוּת הַהִיא רוֹמֶזֶת הַיְּדִיעָה
,כְּמוֹ מַשּׂוּאַת מִגְדָּל מִמֶּרְחַקִּים
,שֶׂמָה שֶׁהָיָה כְּבָר לֹא יִהְיֶה
.אֲבָל כְּמוֹ אָז גַּם עַכְשָׁיו, מַמְשִׁיכִים

,בְּעוֹלָם הָעֵרוּת כְּבָר הֵבַנְתִּי מִזְּמַן
,לְאַט לְאַט, וְלֹא לְבַד
,שֶׁכּוֹל זֶה הָיָה רַק חֲלוֹם
.שֶׁחָלַמְתִּי בַּמְּצִיאוּת

,אַךְ בְחֶשְׁכַת הַלַּיִל אֲנִי דּוֹאֶה שׁוּב דָּרוֹמָה
,לַכְּאֵב, לַעֲיֵיפוֹת, רִיפְיוֹן, וְלַנְּחִישׁוּת
,וְשׁוֹאֵל אֶת עַצְמִי שׁוּב מִתּוֹךְ שֵׁינָה, אִם הַפַּעַם
.זֶה יִסְתַּיֵּים אַחֶרֶת

 

Wings

Tonight I was back there, again,
Returning to continuing what I have stopped a generation ago,
Just as I had promised a decorated Major,
That evening, when the dream broke.

Long run, gasping,
Surrounded by strangers,
In a familiar place,
Where nothing had changed, even in the dream.

Unique desert smells,
Sour uniforms, burning sweat,
And a constantly sore body,
From a relentless effort.

In that reality knowledge hints,
Like a tower beacon from afar,
That what was, shall not be,
But much like then, now too, carrying on.

In the woken world I have long since understood,
Slowly, slowly, and not by myself,
That all this was just a dream,
I have dreamed in reality.

But in the darkness of the night, I glide back south,
To the pain, the fatigue, the limpness, and determination,
And ask myself once more in my slumber, if this time,
It will end differently.

 

March 25, 2019

Hammer Times

We now live in the age of the hammer,
More so than we have done before,
We bring down the hammer to test objects, beliefs, people,
And solve most else we can with its blow.

In the age of the hammer, everything is a nail,
Objects, ideas, human, shatter in place, upon impact,
Tougher yet matters are hardened, pushed deeper into the surface,
In what seems to many like fortification and betterment.

The hammer is great for solidifying subjects in place,
Even more so for solidarity.
Smack one, smack two, smack three, are we done?
After a while, the blows become an obscured background noise.

Hammers are easy to carry and deploy,
No laws, no restrictions prevent them from so,
Free up the tool, let it bang to the masses,
The thunder of crowd and the will of the people.

Take caution, ol’ friends, plenty tools in the box,
For precision of craft, and fine-tuning of goal,
Turn and shape, push and roll, make true effort to end,
For results of unique, wholesome, artful, and right.

 

February 16, 2019