The Poem Comes/ Of A Longing

THE POEM COMES /OF A LONGING

The Poem comes
Of a longing
Deeper than we are
Out of what
We can never know
As sound alone.
The Music whose Essence
Is beyond dreaming
And which returns always
To the depth
Of what Memory
Might be
Even should we have been born
more than once.

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The Poem I Most Love

THE POEM I MOST LOVE

The poem I most love
Was written to me by my dreams
Long before I was born
It did not know its name
But came from somewhere else deep inside
The beyond of God-
I do not know its name
I can only feel and hear it again and again
When the music of some other time
Some other life I lived once and have lost
Returns to me.

The poem I most love
Is the life which has been
And will never come again
Seeing it and hearing it
I know we human beings are dreams and dreams again always dreams
And never ever to be finally at peace and true
But longing and longing for what we were and not were
What we lived and did not live
What we will never be again
And always are.

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A Poem Has A Memory Of Its Own

A POEM HAS A MEMORY OF ITS OWN

A poem has a memory of is own
It has a music and a melody
If it sounds as it should
It will demand to be reheard.

If it is simply words
Then it will go on and on
Without beauty
Without longing
Without mystery.

A poem has a music of its own
And even when it cannot resound strongly
It needs to be heard
Again and again
If it is to be remembered
And loved.

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The Poem Of The Sea Is For Me in Tel Aviv Today

THE POEM OF THE SEA IS FOR ME IN TEL AVIV TODAY
BET CHOL HAMOED PESACH 5762

The poem of the sea is for me today
The poem of longing and beauty
It is the poem of light
Of distance
It is the poem of waves unceasing
And colors dreaming their changes faster than they can be named-

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of return and happiness
A poem of being with my family-

It is too a poem of memories
How thirty- five years ago just beginning
I came to the same sea alone
And wondered how
If I would ever have a family of my own
Then young in love
And later losing love
And then returning alone
And now again here
With a daughter her husband and my granddaughter

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of Love and Gratitude to God
Of longing and beauty of light of distance
And happiness.

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The Longing Is The Heart Of The Poem

THE LONGING IS THE HEART OF THE POEM

The longing is the heart of the poem
The longing for so much
Which will never be again-

The longing to be young again
To love again
In a true and deep way-

The longing for all the times and people
Who are not
And never will be again-

The longing which tells me again and again
How much we lose in merely living
How deep and rich life is
In time and ways and people
Beyond our ever remembering and recollecting fully-

The longing is for so much that is gone
For so much that will never be again-

Life itself is a longing for life itself
And life goes beyond itself in so many ways-

All the longing all my longing
Will never bring it back
even that
which is always here.

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Will I Have A Poem Tonight?

WILL I HAVE A POEM TONIGHT?

Will I have a poem tonight?
Or will tiredness take me to bed
Without an answer?
Will I be able to find within myself
Some sounds of meaning
Some hint of beauty?
Something deeper than the darkness outside
As real as the longing within?

The poem which is written about the poem which is not
Is the poem which is written about the poem which is
And the poem which is
Is tonight the poem of the night
And the poem of the night tonight
Is the poem this poem is.

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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A Poem Of The Sea Is For Me Today in Tel Aviv Chol Ha- Moed Pesach 5762

THE POEM OF THE SEA IS FOR ME TODAY IN TEL AVIV CHOL HAMOED PESACH 5762

The poem of the sea is for me today
In Tel Aviv Chol Ha- Moed Pesach 5762
The poem of longing and beauty
It is the poem of light
Of distance
It is the poem of waves unceasing
And colors dreaming their changes faster than they can be named-

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of return and happiness
A poem of being with my family-

It is too a poem of remembrance-
How thirty- five years ago just beginning
I came to the same sea alone
And wondered how
If I would ever have a family of my own -

Then young in love
And later losing love
And then returning alone
And now again here
With a daughter her husband and my granddaughter

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of Love and Gratitude to God-

Of longing and beauty of light of distance
And happiness.

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A Poem Without Music Of Its Own Is Not A Poem

A POEM WITHOUT MUSIC OF ITS OWN IS NOT A POEM

A poem without music of its own is not a poem-
I have lost the rhythm of my soul
I try-
I write these words
But where is the music?

Slowly slowly I strive
To listen to my own voice-
It sounds as if it comes from deep within me
Deeper than my own dreaming.

Is this a poem I hear?
Or only my own ambition and scheming?

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There Is No End To The Longing

THERE IS NO END TO THE LONGING

There is no end to the longing
And no end to the poem.
The Life will end
The Darkness will come
But the poem
The poem will go on
And the longing with it
Elsewhere
Where only God knows.

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Is There Still Longing In Paradise?

Is there still Longing in Paradise?
Or is there no Paradise without Longing?
In Longing we most feel alive-
And in Longing’s realization deepest live-
No life without longing-
Longing as Paradise
Longing as Poem.

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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The Last Poem Of The Year

THE LAST POEM OF THE YEAR

The last poem of the year
Has Happiness as its message
Has Sadness as its theme
Has Love as its Longing
And Repentance as its meaning-

The last poem of the year
Has gratitude to God
And prayer for those I love
And prayer for healing for
sick-friends and family-

The last poem of the year
Has quiet as its message
And silence as its theme
And kindness as its longing
And hope for the next year
As its blessing-

The last poem of the year-

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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The Poem Was Destroyed By Its Own Words

The poem was destroyed by its own words
And could not be written-

The words were not good enough
The words were not exact enough -

The poem nonetheless wanted to be
It waited in longing for other words-

Other words came
But they were not the poem either-

The poem it appeared
Was never to be -

The poem disappeared
Before it could be written

That poem forever is not
And in its place only these lines

Barely a poem at all.

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Israel's Sixty-Fourth Memorial Day For Fallen Soldiers /There Is A Poem Of Unbearable Sadness

There is a poem of unbearable sadness
It is written by anyone who has lost a loved one-

It is a poem that lasts a lifetime
A poem of pain and longing
And regret and sorrow -

It is most unbearable
When the one who is lost is young

God bless the memory and grant eternal life
To those who have given their lives in the service of Israel.

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What Is This Longing In Me?

What is this longing in me
This desire this sadness
This longing
For what?

For Beauty?
For what is no longer here?
For something higher farther deeper beyond?
For Love?

What is this longing this wanting in me
For what has no name?

And why do I feel
In the longing itself
The missing and the having at once?

As if somehow beyond all I am
Somehow and somewhere else
Whatever it is which should be most truly loved
Exists and waits for me.

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A Poem Means More Than It Says

THE POEM MEANS MORE THAN IT SAYS

The poem means more than it says.
It hears within itself the sense of what a page can’t know-
It finds in the eyes of those who approach it- melodies
Whose music relates to other poems
Read years ago –

The poem means more than it says
Because in us
What Poetry is- speaks wisely
Through every dream our hands can’t reach
Through every sound our mind cannot fathom
Through worlds elsewhere
That know more than us
And layer us deeper and deeper
In troublesome sounds unheard.

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This is a poem....

This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.

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Beauty Is The Poem

BEAUTY IS THE POEM
(At listening to Air on a G String)

Beauty is the poem
The music is the poem
The beauty of the music
Slow and slower
Deep and deeper
Long and longer
Beauty is the poem.
The melody that plays its slow length along
Beauty in the music
Beauty as the poem
Life as beauty
Life as music
Beauty is the poem
And life is the music now.

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