Look, Look
LOOK LOOK
Look look
The flowers the trees
The greens the purples
Listen to the lines of Hopkins
Greater than mine
Vermillion on Mishmar Ha- Am.
Walk in happiness on the way
To pray in the morning.
And later when the davvening done
Write these lines down.
As if they were soothing shades of yellow green light
Recollected in tranquility
Under a light blue Israel sky.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Greens Of These Trees These Leaves
THE GREENS OF THESE TREES THESE LEAVES
The greens of these trees these leaves
The many shades of green-
Olive green and deep dark green and yellow green
And greens I see but have no name for-
So many shades of light and beauty in green
And I with my eyes loving them all
And delighted and made happy by them all-
Wondering why and how God's world
Has so so much Beauty
Just in green alone -
And being deep in happiness
At being alive
And loving them more
In regretting why and how
I will not one day soon
be able to see them again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How Many Shades Of Green
HOW MANY SHADES OF GREEN
How many shades of green
Olive green
Dark green
Light green
Yellow green
How many shades of yellow
Deep yellow
Rose yellow
Sun yellow
Morning light yellow
How many shades of light
How much light
How much Beauty in the world
How much Light-
How much- God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Yellows And Greens
THE YELLOWS AND GREENS
The Yellows and Greens
Who made these leaves?
Who made these skies?
Blue- White is too Beauty
And Gold Gold Vermillion-
Light Light
All this Life
This Happiness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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No Poem In Me/Everything Irritates and Angers
NO POEM IN ME
No poem in me-
Everything irritates and angers
Even the beauty of the morning light-
Says nothing to me.
Walk, walk, walk,
Try to get the Impatience out.
Write a few lines,
To come back to a better Self.
Try.
Despite these lines
I am not there yet.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Ask The Morning Light
I ASK THE MORNING LIGHT
I ask the morning light,
To give me a poem-
The morning light is quiet-
The fresh cool air
Freezes my hand
As I write.
The light is so bright
So yellow so blue so green.
The poem has been given-
I am alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Colors to Notice
While on morning walk today,
Thought emerges to describe the color
Of Mumbai sky, but can’t get the correct word:
It is aluminum-like, light gray,
Same wherever on the entire irregular patch
Of sky in Bandra, I am allowed to see through
Hedged in by trees, buildings and roofs.
As the eyes sweep down, the colors
Around me attract: green, blue,
Black, yellow, red BEST bus, the objects reflecting
There is no end to my counting:
In green alone I can see
Seventeen different shades.
Once I start enjoying the difference
Between one green and another
Luxuriant, shiny or dark,
Light-green, or parrot or bluish green
Or green seen against sunlight from below
Or with sunlight falling on the green leaves, -
In between remembering the sea-green incorruptible
Of Carlyle in his French Revolution
Or Lady Macbeth’s seas before becoming
Incarnadined -
Greens stretch unending in mind, and around,
Till suddenly the purple morning glory in front
Mocks me: while the special dark pink, above
Of bougainvillea blushes silently at stupid man
Who shows off his reading to Nature,
And makes up by waving and dancing gently.
Colors of Life and Nature are around me
Anywhere anytime:
I love them, including
Different black shadows in the dark.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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I Walk And Lines Come To Me
I WALK AND LINES COME TO ME
I walk and lines come to me-
Then I stop somewhere
And wait for more lines
To complete them-
Then when I am at home
I rewrite them-
Then I listen to them inside me
Again and again,
And when I hear that they are not right
I try to find what is missing for them,
Write and write again
Until reading it to myself
It sounds as it should be.
And when I am done
I am quiet inside,
As if all the Hope in the world
could be reborn
through a poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Greater Lines Of Others
THE GREATER LINES OF OTHERS
The greater lines of others
Shadow my own.
I hear them within myself
Making mockery of the lines
I now write down.
The great poets own poetry
And we with the little words
And the big dreams
Might be wiser
To let only our silence
Speak for us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Hear Within Myself The Greater Lines Of Others
I HEAR WITHIN MYSELF THE GREATER LINES OF OTHERS
I hear within myself the greater lines of others-
I began to write ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’
I thought ‘Continuous as the stars that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way’
I felt ‘When you are old and grey and full of sleep’
I thought again ‘Doth God exact day – labor light denied? ”
I felt in my soul ‘Ah love let us be true to one another For the world which lies before us like a land of dreams ‘
Inside me I heard ‘The world is filled with the grandeur of God’
Time after time I repeated ‘O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right’-
All in me is poetry more than my own
‘Oh to be in England, now that April’s here’
'Oh wild west wind thou breath of autumn's being'
I do not know how to stop the lines -
More in me than myself is the Poetry of others
And where I begin must end a greater Beauty not my own-
Oh Poem Oh Poetry Oh Poets of the Past
Oh Light of the world greater than my own small light-
Oh singing in the wilderness a song not my own
Oh much more than I can ever be
Others’ Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How to make your wishes come true
She liked white and had not said a word yet
On her tenth birthday
she stood on the red steps
of the red opera house
-the red opera house on the north side of Sydney Harbour
almost opposite the white opera house
She scattered orange petals, yellow petals, green leaves and spoke
in a light blue voice
A bird of navy blue pink and gold feathers stood by her. Was this the grateful bird? Purple gold and white danced
She said
white stillness, pure gold, purple wonder, gold strength, pink joy, pink infinity, navy blue now, strong indigo blue, light blue fountain, the green first reason, compassionate orange, endless yellow,
royal red, single red, free orange, free yellow, green depth as clear as crystal, all attractive light blue, strong indigo blue, strong navy blue, pink wishes, gold compassion, compassionate purple,
gold of golds, of creativity, white of whites, gold truth, purple mentor, funny gold, pink friend of children, navy blue of nature,
indigo blue knowledge, light blue song of nature, green creation, yellow in senses, orange guide, red way, red inspirer, orange giver, yellow help, dazzling green, light blue of the delicate, with indigo blue eyes, navy blue good, with pink kind eyes, golden hair, golden complexion, purple complexion, gold warmth, of white space, white and gold love, of all purple knowledge, gold presence, pink in thunder and storms, navy blue pleasure, indigo blue beauty,
light blue lines, all attractive green, of yellow stirring music, of orange, red refuge, clear red, orange orange, yellow yellow, with green giving hands, of green, light blue truth, indigo blue essence, navy blue sparkle, pink with gold, purple guide, gold here, here white, white is the sun with penetrating vision, purple and golden constant winner, gold reach, of all pink, infinite navy blue, indigo blue knowledge, light blue care, deep green in greens, orange truth, dedicated to yellow, red peace, red glory, orange beauty, yellow, of green and light blue evenings, handsome indigo blue, intelligent navy blue, pink of pinks, of gold golds, purple purple, gold friend,
openness, formless white and gold, prevailing purple, efficient purple, purple origin, purple form, gold and permanent pink, navy blue belief, indigo blue blue, dense green, orange, yellow, red friend, red
and fell silent
Are the colours telling us that reciting the girl's words could make all our wishes come true? What else do red orange yellow green light blue indigo blue navy blue pink gold purple gold white know?
Today is a Monday
poem by Bhupen Thakker
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Lines
I asked
Happiness
To give me
Some lines
To write
Happily…
It grimaced
And said -
There was
Nothing
In its booty.
It felt so empty.
So to help me
It went out of the way
To borrow some lines
From sadness and gave
Those to me.
So here I am
Writing some lines
To you, borrowed
From my friends -
Messrs. Happiness
And Sadness who
Were kind enough
To lend some lines
To me....for thee....
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were
ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE
All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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New Light New Colour
An old man
welcomes
his four day old
grandson
white stillness pure gold purple wonder gold strength pink joy
pink infinity navy blue now strong indigo blue light blue fountain
the green first reason endless yellow compassionate orange
royal red
single red free orange free yellow
green depth as clear as crystal all attractive light blue
strong indigo blue strong navy blue pink wishes gold compassion
compassionate purple gold of golds of creativity
who is quiet
and naturally very small and delicate
red inspirer orange giver yellow help dazzling green
light blue of the delicate with indigo blue eyes navy blue good
with pink kind eyes golden hair
golden complexion purple complexion
gold warmth of white space
white of whites
gold truth purple mentor funny gold pink friend of children
navy blue of nature indigo blue knowledge light blue song of nature
green creation yellow in senses orange guide red way
white and gold love
of all purple knowledge gold presence pink in thunder and storms
navy blue pleasure indigo blue beauty light blue lines
all attractive green of yellow stirring music of orange red refuge
clear red orange orange yellow yellow with green giving hands
of green light blue truth indigo blue essence navy blue sparkle
pink with gold purple guide gold here here white
His feet are curled
His fingers as small as tiny magic wands
His eyes large
Some skin is peeling off his small face
Everything is perfectly formed
white
is the sun with penetrating vision purple and golden constant winner
gold reach of all pink infinite navy blue indigo blue knowledge
light blue care
deep green in greens dedicated to yellow
orange truth
red peace
This perfect body was in his mother only a week ago
thinks the old man
He places his hand on the boys stomach
red glory orange beauty yellow
of green and light blue evenings handsome indigo blue
intelligent navy blue pink of pinks of gold golds purple purple
gold friend openness formless
white and gold
prevailing purple efficient purple purple origin purple form
gold and permanent pink navy blue belief indigo blue blue
dense green yellow orange red friend red
The boy almost gasps at this touch
He yawns
His eyes remain anxiously focused on the window
eager to understand the Australian light
poem by Bhupen Thakker
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Signals
No sooner
Light changes color
Why do you take off?
Red light awaits ahead
Why such a hurry?
Green light's signal to go
Red light's signal to stop
To control man's movement
A light stands at every step
Look ahead and drive
It's dangerous otherwise
Harm awaits
At every intersection.
On the road
All the way
Many lines we see
Solid and dashed
White and yellow
And lo behold
Signs and numbers
That set the limits.
Colors of lights
Stretches of lines
Symbols and numbers
Our creations
Are all there
To guide us
For our own safety
Observe we must
Signals they send
And to follow them
Is our duty.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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God Has Given Me The Blessing Of This Day
G-d has given me this blessing of this day
Everywhere I look I see Beauty
The innumerable shades of green
The morning light makes
On the trees and leaves
The unending open white blue sky
I look and feel blessed
That God has given me this day
How easy it is to feel Joy in such Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem I have Written For So Long
THE POEM I HAVE WRITTEN FOR SO LONG
The poem I have written for so long
The simple lines –
Is not good enough.
Still the morning light on the trees
Is 'The morning light on the trees'
I cannot say it more specifically more precisely more beautifully-
Time will tell
I am already old
No one knows
Goodbye is goodbye-
The morning light is still on the trees.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Walk And Look Up At The Sky
I WALK AND LOOK UP AT THE SKY
I walk and look up at the sky
I try to dream again-
But even the stars disappoint
They are not what we once thought them to be.
The sky too is a chaos of impersonal violence -
Forces greater than us mock our human power
And we are little little things on one small blue light.
How will we begin to dream again
How will I with my little lines write dreams which mean anything?
Night O beautiful night
With your long lonely distances,
And the promises you give as I step by step move deeper into you
Hold me now for a while quietly
And help me forget
Where we are
And all we can never become.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Late autumn
The yellow veldt, the skeleton chestnut trees
specs of orange-red aloes in the kopje
are near to the old white house
and in the late afternoon shades draw long lines
while I walk up to the house on the red-brown dirt road
and most of the flowers in the garden are stripped bare
but a few irises are flowering yellow,
purple and cream brown
and the sky is dull blue and the early evening cold
is already on the wind that is rustling everything
and after years I open the garden gate
are coming back to my childhood home
stripped from illusions,
and I am bare from the childhood innocence
but full of hope
and looking through a mature man’s eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Light Through The Morning Window
THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW
The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
The pale sky waiting behind everything
The night which is gone now.
All these failures one after the other,
Other names other destinies, greater than mine
The single singing I cannot hear
The great prophecies I will not realize.
Others who are more to me
Even than I am to myself.
The morning
The morning again
Words again
Trying to live again
A poem again perhaps.
In a life of many days
In which each small day
Its own struggle
And each night
A night which ends
With morning light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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To A Friend On The Other Side Of The Earth...
you write and i listen to each word.
you are faraway. You speak in repetitive lines.
there are standards of art.
a poem must be so and so. so does a short story.
unity of plot, choice of words,
fixing the mood and
fortifying the contextual feel.
you are mumbling poetry in winter
inside a train that travels on a speed greater than light.
tomorrow it will be at ten in the morning
when the bullet arrives at its destination
you write.... breathtaking views, flashes of memories.
i listen to a chant. i chant myself.
speaking to speaking speaking.
we are all alone. yet we cope up without any
help from them, damn carpets and
dripping roofs.
whether what you write is poetry or prose
it is not important anymore.
you are a poem that i care for.
i do not know you but there is a shadow
it is enough for me.
damn biters. damn arrivals.
i do the same. Sit back and write.
senselessly. desperately seeking what we still do not know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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