רִיצַת לַיְלָה

Jun11

רִיצַת לַיְלָה ,בַּחֲלוֹמוֹתַי הָרְדוּפִים
,רוֹדְפִים אוֹתִי
,מִינֵי טִיפּוּסִים
,בִּצְעָדִים גְּדוֹלִים
.בִּמְכוֹנִיּוֹת מְהִירוֹת
,וַאֲנִי
,קְצַר נְשִׁימָה
,כְּמוֹ אָז
,מֵחִישׁ צְעָדַי
,הָאִיטִּיִים תָּמִיד
,כְּדֵי לְהַסְפִּיק
,לְהַגִּיעַ
.לִפְנֵיהֶם

,בְּהַקִיצִי
,אֲנִי תּוֹהֶה
,מִי אַתֶּם
?וְעַל מָה תִרְדֶפוּנִי
,זִכְרוֹנוֹת מְתַעְתְּעִים
,חֲלוֹמוֹת מוּפְשָׁטִים
,שֶׁהַמְּצִיאוּת בָּהֶם
,רוֹמֶזֶת לִמְצִיאוּת אַחֶרֶת
,שֶׁנִּקְבְּרָה לִפְנֵי שָׁנִים
,עַל יְדֵי הַזִּכָּרוֹן הַמֵּגֵן
,מִפְּנֵי הַכְּאֵב
.הַהוּא

,יֵשׁ לוֹ לַתַּת מוּדָע
,תַּפְקִיד חָשׁוּב
.בַּהֲגָנַת הַמּוֹלָד
,אַךְ חָרִיצֵי הָאוֹר הַלָּלוּ
,הַפּוֹרְצִים
,בְּחֶשְׁכָת הַלַּיְלָה
,מַקְרִינִים
,חֶלְקֵי תְּמוּנוֹת
,שִׁבְרִי רְמָזִים
,לְמָה שֶׁהָיָה
,מִי שֶׁהָיָה
.אֲנִי

Night Run

In my haunted dreams,
I’m chased,
By various characters,
In great strides,
In fast cars.
And I,
Breathless,
Like then,
Quicken my steps,
Which are slow as always,
So that I can make it,
Arrive,
Before them.

When I wake,
I wonder,
Who are you,
And for what shall you pursue me?
Misleading memories,
Abstract dreams,
Whose reality,
Hints at another reality,
Buried years ago,
By the protective memory,
From that,
Pain.

The subconscious has,
An important role,
In protecting the born.
But those light slits,
That burst,
In the darkness of the night,
Projecting,
Parts of images,
Broken clues,
To what was,
Who was,
Me.

English Translation

June 28, 2025

Nature Love

Jun4

Nature Love Love is an egg,
Fertilized by a smile,
A meeting,
And a conversation.
It hatches with a hug,
Continues to grow and develop,
Through mutual attention,
Patience,
And care.
It spreads its wings and soars,
Carrying both over great distances,
Of maturity and growth,
Far beyond their individual reach.

Love is a tree,
Sprouts from a seed,
Planted together with care,
Dedication,
And hope.
It is feeble at first,
Susceptible to the elements,
Cross winds,
And inadequate locations.
But soon its roots strike deeper,
Grow and spread,
Its trunk thickens,
The canopy grows wider and taller,
Providing shelter and shade,
From rainstorms and hail,
Offering a clear distant view from its top,
Over the forest.

Love is a strength,
Mightier than envy, anger, and hate.
It is armor protecting from threats,
Of all natures,
Physical, mental, and spiritual.
It takes little to spark,
Yet provides endless powers,
For all who share it,
To find comfort and forte,
Console and care,
Inner light and inspiration,
Deep inside the soul.

Love is an opportunity,
To engage,
To trust,
To intimately know.
It diverges from person to person,
But has no limits in reach.
It is made of large, positive numbers,
Always adds, never subtracts.
It is ultimate food,
In abundance for all,
Both the nourished and hungry,
For the body and soul.
It sustains via touch,
And by distant connections,
Through one’s voice and their scribe,
To those in the relations.

Love today, love here, now,
In the moment and always,
In the heat of the night,
And in darkness of day.
Give it all that you can,
Be true, giving, and sharing,
It will raise you to heights,
Paramount to a human being.

May 15, 2025

הַשִּׂיחָה

May28

הַשִּׂיחָה .הַבּוֹקֶר הֶחְלַטְתִּי לְהִתְקַשֵּׁר לְאַבָּא שֶׁלִּי
,הוּא נִמְצָא לְבַד בַּבַּיִת מֵאָז שֶׁאִמָּא נִפְטְרָה
,בִּתְחִילַּת הַשָּׁנָה
.וְרָצִיתִי לִשְׁאוֹל לִשְׁלוֹמוֹ
.הוּא עָנָה מִיָּד לַטֶּלֶפוֹן
,שׂוֹחַחְנוּ קְצָת וְהוּא סִיפֵּר שֶׁהַיְּלָדִים כְּבָר לֹא בָּאִים כֹּל כָּךְ לְבַקֵּר
.מִכֵּיווֹן וְהֵם עֲסוּקִים
.חָשַׁבְתִּי עַל זֶה לָרֶגַע וְהִסְתַּכַּלְתִּי סְבִיבִי בַּחֶדֶר
,הַכּוֹל נִרְאָה רָגִיל
,אֲבָל מַשֶּׁהוּ בְּקוֹלוֹ שֶׁל אַבָּא
.הָיָה שׁוֹנֶה
,הַאִם זוֹ אֵיכוּת הַקַּו
,שָׁאַלְתִּי אֶת עַצְמִי
,אוֹ שֶׁזּוֹהִי אֵיזוֹ תּוֹכְנַת בִּינָה מְלָאכוּתִית
?שֶׁגּוֹרֶמֶת לַטֶּלֶפוֹן לְהָתֵל בִּי
,אוֹ אָז, תּוֹךְ כְּדֵי שֶׁאֲנִי מַקְשִׁיב
,וְחוֹשֵׁב
,נִזְכַּרְתִּי שֶׁאַבָּא נִפְטָר שֵׁשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה שָׁנִים
.מוּקְדָּם יוֹתֵר מֵאִימָּא
.כָּעֵת נִשְׁמָע קוֹלוֹ שׁוֹנֶה מְאֹד
,זֶה לְלֹא סָפֵק מַשֶּׁהוּ מְלָאכוּתִי
.הֶחְלַטְתִּי
,זֶה
.אוֹ שֶׁאֲנִי שׁוּב חוֹלֵם
,הִבַּטְתִּי בְּטֶלֶפוֹן
,הִסְתַּכַּלְתִּי שׁוּב סָבִיב
.וְאָז הִתְעוֹרַרְתִּי
,שָׁכַבְתִּי בְּשֶׁקֶט לְרֶגַע
.גּוֹמֶא אֵת שְׁאֵרִיּוֹת הַחֲווֹיָה
,נוּ, טוֹב
,נָשַׁמְתִּי עָמוֹק
,לִפְחוֹת כָּךְ אֲנִי יָכוֹל לִשְׁמוֹעַ אוֹתוֹ מִידֵּי פַּעַם
,וְלָדַעַת
.שֶׁהוּא בְּסֵדֶר

The Call

This morning, I decided to call my dad.
He has been alone at home since Mom died,
At the beginning of the year,
And I wanted to ask how he was.
He answered the phone immediately.
We chatted for a while, and he said that the kids don’t come to visit as much.
Because they are busy.
I thought about this for a moment and looked around the room.
Everything seemed normal,
But something about my dad’s voice
Was different.
Was this the quality of the line,
I asked myself,
Or was it some artificial intelligence program,
That was causing the phone to mock me?
Right then, as I was listening,
And thinking,
I remembered that Dad passed away sixteen years
Before Mom.
Now his voice sounded much different.
There was no doubt this was something artificial,
I decided.
That,
Or that I was dreaming again.
I looked at the phone,
Looked around again,
And then woke up.
I lay quietly for a moment,
Swallowing up the remnants of the experience.
Oh well,
I took a deep breath,
At least this way, I could hear him occasionally
And know
That he was okay.

English Translation

May 14, 2025

Writing

May21

Writing A thought about a friend,
Who shared with me experience,
Resurgence of emotions,
Resulting from past pain.

A line from conversation,
I had a few days prior,
Revisiting a dream,
That woke me up at dawn.

Regrets of past encounters,
Confessions of bad choices,
Successes and sad failures,
Brave actions dipped in dread.

All those and more are fodder,
For poetry and stories,
Unlock the conscience fetters,
Set soul and spirit free.

April 27, 2025

Bottled Wonder

May14

Imagine How do you think we would act,
If we all had possessed a sixth sense,
To read thoughts, honest feelings of others,
In the way they were clearly expressed?

What if trees could uproot themselves wholly,
When they didn’t like where they were set,
And had traveled to new, better pastures,
Any time when they felt that they must?

What if birds could write songs like musicians,
And not only chirp sing them in key,
Would we chart them with others on Billboard,
And play on the top-40s airwaves?

What if people knew love and affection,
Can win hearts more than power and fight,
Of machine guns, armadas, and warplanes,
Over hate, honor, borders, and pride?

What if you knew that I, very often,
Think of you through the moments of day,
And cannot wait until I get chance,
To read to you these words face-to-face.

Can a line convey love, care, true feelings?
Could a poem surmise it quite well?
I will lay it down here, for the ages,
With the hope that it does that with flair.

April 24, 2025

בַּגְרוּת

Apr17

Maturity ,בִּצְעִירוּתִי
,הָיִיתִי רָץ קָדִימָה
,בְּאוֹפֶן תָּדִיר
,בְּמִרְדָּף עַצְמִי
,לְהֵחָפֵז, לְהַסְפִּיק, לַעֲשׂוֹת
.לְהַצְלִיחַ
,אוּלָם
,הַהַצְלָחוֹת הָאֲמִיתִּיּוֹת לֹא הוֹפִיעוּ
,עַד שֶׁלֹּא הִשְׂכַלְתִּי
,לְהָאֵט קִמְעָה
,לִמְדוֹד צְעָדַי
,לִלְמוֹד
,לְהִתְכּוֹנֵן
,בְּשִׁיקּוּל דַּעַת
,בִּרְווֹחַת נֶפֶשׁ
,כְּדֵי לִהְיוֹת מְסוּגָּל
,לְהָפִיק מֵעַצְמִי
,וּמִכִּשְׁרוֹנִי
,אֶת הַמֵּיטָב שֶׁנִּיתַּן לִדְלוֹת
.מֵהֶם

Maturity

In my youth,
I used to run ahead,
Often,
In pursuit of myself,
To hurry, to accomplish, to do.
To succeed.
But,
True successes did not come,
Until I learned,
To slow down a bit,
To measure my steps,
To study,
To prepare,
With reason,
With a peaceful soul,
So as to be able,
To extract from myself,
And from my talent,
The best that can possibly be drawn,
Of them.

English Translation

March 30, 2025

Calling Card

Apr15

Calling Card First name, last name,
Dark ink, boldface.
Title,
Pause
Photographer?
Pause.
Artist?
Pause again.
Try,
Writer?
Poet?
Satirist? Novelist?
Pause.
Inventor?
Explorer?
Searcher?
Pause.
Curious,
Dreamer,
Me.

April 15, 2025

Close Encounters of a Special Kind

Apr15

Close Encounters of a Special Kind A thin smile
Steady breathing,
Eyes narrowing,
In a wandering gaze,
All senses tune in,
Scanning for,
Hidden whispers,
Silent calls,
Emotional frequency waves,
Traveling throughout the universe,
Seeking connection,
Recognition,
Inspiration.

They are out there,
You believe,
You trust,
You know.
Souls like yours,
Transmitting,
Listening for a return echo,
A message,
A sign,
From the other side of the world,
Or from across the room,
To meet and acknowledge,
Engage and embrace,
Your kind.

April 9, 2025

Bright, Big

Mar28

Bright, Big The big city celebrates its beauty with colorful neon light,
Tall billboards and deafening traffic noise.
Ethnic smells rise from food carts and wall vents on the dark streets,
Swirls in the thick air, competing for attention.

Giant steel worms crawl beneath the heavy streets,
Electric hum roars from their undercarriages,
Emerging from dark tunnels, they stop at lit caged feeding stations,
To emit and swallow back their human prey.

High above, in massive shiny Babylonian towers,
Faceless people look down upon the city through dark-tinted windows.
The hum from below rises steadily through the skyscrapers’ pillars,
Generating tiny ripples in their steamy coffee cups.

If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere,
A modern-day survival mantra the city wears with pride.
The bright prominent enclave that forever regenerates,
Continue to embrace you long after you leave.

March 25, 2025

חָרָבוֹת

Mar28

חָרָבוֹת ,בַּזְּמַן הַזֶּה רוֹדְפוֹת אוֹתִי תְּחוּשׁוֹת קָשׁוֹת
.שֶׁל פַטָאלִיזְם
,הַגּוּף כּוֹאֵב תַּדִּיר
,כְּמוֹ אָז
.בְּמַהֲלַךְ הַשֵּׁירוּת
,חֲלוֹמוֹת רָעִים שְׁטוּפֵי פַּחַד פּוֹקְדִים שְׁנָתִי
,עַל הַנְהָגָה נֶחְשֶׁלֶת
,אֲנָשִׁים מְסוּכָּנִים
.וְעָתִיד קוֹדֵר

,חֲדָשׁוֹת רָעוֹת רוֹדְפוֹת אַחַת אֶת הַשְּׁנִיּיֹה
,וְאוֹתִי
,אֶת כּוּלָּנוּ
,מִתּוֹךְ הַיּוֹם
.אֶל תּוֹךְ הַלַּיְלָה
,אֲנָשִׁים כְּלוּאִים בַּמַּחְשָׁבוֹת
,בְּתְפִיסוֹת עוֹלָם מְעֻוּוֹתוֹת
,בְּחֶזְיוֹנוֹת הַזוּיִים
,בְּתִקְווֹת שָׁוְוא
.בַּמִּנְהָרוֹת חַנוּקוֹת
,אוֹר הַיּוֹם נוֹתָר אָפֵל גַּם כְּשֶׁהַשַּׁמָּשׁ זוֹרַחַת מִמַעָל
.בְּחֶשְׁכַת הַהֹוֶוה הַמַּכְבִּיד

,מֶרְחָב הָאֶפְשָׁרוּיּוֹת הַאִישִׁי מִצְטַמְצֵם
,הַפִּינּוֹת מִתְעַגְּלוֹת
.וְהַדְּרָכִים נֶחְסַמוֹת
.אֵין לְאָן לִבְרוֹחַ
,נִשְׁאַרְנוּ עִם הַמִּלְחָמָה
,שֶׁאַף שֶׁנִּרְאָה כְּאִילּוּ זֶה אַךְ פָּרְצָה
,אֲנַחְנוּ מִשְׁתַּתְּפִים בָּהּ כְּבַר יוֹבְלוֹת
.כִּי לַנֶּצַח תֹּאכַל

Swords

These days, I am haunted by hard feelings,
of fatalism.
My body often aches,
As it did then,
During the service.
Bad dreams awash with fear haunt my sleep,
About weak leadership,
Dangerous people,
And a gloomy future.

Bad news chase one another,
And me,
All of us,
From the day,
Into the night.
People are trapped in thoughts,
In distorted worldviews,
In delusional visions,
In false hopes,
In choked tunnels.
Daylight remains dark even when the sun shines above,
In the darkness of the imposing presence.

The breadth of personal possibilities narrows,
The corners are rounded,
And the paths are blocked.
There is nowhere to escape.
We remain with the war,
That even though it seems as if it haג just broken out,
We have been participating in it for decades,
Because devour forever

English Translation

Ophir Palmon, writer

poetry, fiction, life stories, שירה, סיפורת

רִיצַת לַיְלָה

June 28, 2025

Nature Love

May 15, 2025

הַשִּׂיחָה

May 14, 2025

Writing

April 27, 2025

Bottled Wonder

April 24, 2025

בַּגְרוּת

March 30, 2025

Calling Card

April 15, 2025

Close Encounters of a Special Kind

April 9, 2025

Bright, Big

March 25, 2025

חָרָבוֹת

March 17, 2025