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ARTS AND CULTURE

A half way to live

  • 04 February 2019

 

Selected poems

 

Haiku

Serious haiku

Is deep and meaningful thought.

But not in my verse

 

It's five syllables

Then just seven in this line,

That never make sense.

 

For instance, today

It is raining. Tomorrow,

It is Wednesday.

 

Brunch can be a lunch

When it is salad and egg,

not fried spaghetti.

 

My car will not start

For it is old and broken;

A little like me.

 

Can we make love now?

No you cannot she replied,

We have only just met

 

How about some sex?

Yes please yes, she said eagerly,

Next Friday two weeks.

 

Heavens open up

I get very wet and cold,

And catch pneumonia.

 

Ants have small mouths

So do not eat much at all,

And do not grow big.

 

Five eggs in a pan

Tossed and fried up together

Are such a big mess.

 

I love to kiss,

And always try for more

Than she ever does.

 

The love of my life

Is long gone; she found another

And went off with him.

 

I cannot help laugh

When I write serious verse

That I call haiku.

 

The soul of my house

Are those who live within it.

It also needs painting.

 

 

 

Distant

Distant she said. Superficial was his word

Words to describe all that they cared

After the years gone by, long gone

And two children now almost reared.

 

Twenty they were, those changing years

Love replaced by void, even fears

A house, a high hill, ambitious pride,

A façade, an emptiness, describe it now

 

A decade ago, anger enough

He quiet, cutting, resentful

She screaming, yelling, throwing,

A vase, abuse, hurt pride

 

Ten years they have found a half way

To live. To hurt less, to give a say

To the need to express, of each to the other

Superficial is his word. Distant is hers.

 

 

 

New York

Life is full of surprises, places, people

Upstate, summer, on the lake,

the people from 82nd. street

a cottage, timbered, at water's edge,

unbelievably quiet.

 

Not that far, a pub, all invitation, local noise,

we drive, a half-hour, too far to walk,

the small village, a boat repairer, two shops,

sold everything. Like my childhood.

 

So quiet, remote, far removed yet so near

to a city that defies gravity, huge, confronting,

A city that is America, loved and hated,

brass knuckles, noisy, ambitious,

A city of universities, bookstores, theatre.

hamburger joints and Chinese laundries.

 

A city where unreachable minds, unreadable people,

created ground zero.

Often we think that it could only be there

that we could watch a building disintegrate

while so many people die.

 

It may have places of quiet dignity,

there maybe an old world charm,

But we see do not see this beauty

and rarely realize its charm.

 

We see instead downtown canyons

that never see the sun

yellow cabs and rushing people

speaking in a hundred different voices

 

The world is there; It is a city like no other.

It is the future