Tag Archives: poetry

208: Poetry: New Series: Couples: 1. Tanglewood

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This is the beginning of a series called “Couples,” a topic that intrigues me, based on observations. 1. Tanglewood, one evening in July, 2006**** © 7/02 He had that Hollywood look; the tan, the lined, outdoor face that said, “maybe I’m an actor.”  In fact, he reminded me of Patrick Swayze, in Dirty Dancing; He wore a tight tee shirt that was slightly faded in color, like army drabs, but on closer inspection I could see that there was a pattern of swirls of blues and greens and mottled browns, like marble.  He bent his dark and silver head of … Continue reading →

213. Poetry: On Butterflies

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art by Sans Souci   I came across a link to a blog by someone who I am not affiliated with, and was moved by the request to make a yellow paper butterfly to remember Pavel Friedman.  It was said on the blog that he wrote the following poem while in the Warsaw Ghetto, but he was actually in the Ghetto of the Terezin Concentration Camp Terezin was the “model” camp, the sham, the lie, projected to the world to cover up the disgrace of the Nazis. It was billed to the elderly as a “retirement home,” when in fact … Continue reading →

219. Poetry: Series: Couples: 2. Dori and Ron

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2. Cousin Dori and Ron the day of Aunt Esther’s Funeral August 2006 Dori’s been through 2 marriages; the first seemed normal enough, to Jay, a college professor. But it ended.  Childless.     And then there was the second, to a rock musician, who also had been through a previous marriage; They produced a son together and  raised him on the milk of “The Sex Pistols,” and on various forms of second hand smoke, causing him to suffer from attention deficit disorder; he went on meds so he could function in school.   No one could figure out why … Continue reading →

189. Poetry: Connecting The Dots: Poetry Reading

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I realized I hadn’t transferred this poem from Yahoo.  Some people may have read it. Now you may listen, too. Please wait for the audio tracks to load.   Connecting the Dots ©srk9/17/07     I Seeing Stars   **** It was a cold day, maybe in November in 1954, around my 6th birthday or perhaps not far after, when my father took me by the hand. I see my plaid coat, I feel the itchy wool, coarse to my touch, I see its blue and green box design and a hat to match tied under my chin: the coat … Continue reading →

194. Poetry reading: (Part 2) Soldier Boy

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    It’s the summer of 1960, and your new transistor radio is in your hand. ***** **** It would be helpful to read the  introduction in the preceding blog before reading the poem. Part 1 Soldier Boy ©2/4/08 by the author, all rights reserved   **** The transistor radio was ready with fresh batteries; I got it in 1960 when I graduated from P.S. 61. My dad brought it home; it was red and had a brown leather case, there was a cut out on the side to access the knob to tune the dial.  Then the stick marker … Continue reading →

178. Poetry Wednesday: Civil War: Part 2

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When we returned “North” this is what happened… (The poem starts here: Civil War)     Civil War Part 2 The North His parents were away, on the heat-heavy night of our return on Eastern Airlines, “number one to the sun” and we were driven to the frigid refuge of his parents’ bedroom.   Then: partially unpacked bags, co-mingled damp underwear, condoms, Kools, cold, white king-size sheets. Skin tannned, wearing our hair and our watches we slept entwined until the light crept through the Venetian blinds and painted slats on our faces. ***Having some issues with imeem, please let me … Continue reading →

171. Adult Poetry: series (original) Civil War: Part 1: Pies and Bread

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The northern Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper presented an unflattering portrait of southern white womanhood in a May 1863 illustration. The depiction contrasted sharply with the view promoted by plantation elites of virtuous southern white mothers and wives who obeyed and deferred to men. The panel on the left showed southern women “hounding their men on to Rebellion.” The panel on the right depicted them “feeling the effects of Rebellion and creating Bread Riots.” The latter panel referred to the Richmond bread riot, which took place on April 2, 1862 when several hundred women frustrated by food shortages and high prices … Continue reading →

153. Poetry: Anne Sexton: Two poems

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Anne Sexton was born Anne Gray Harvey on November 9, 1928, in Newton Massachusetts.   She attended prep school and finishing school, then eloped with Alfred Muller Sexton at age 19 and relocated from Boston to Baltimore.  She gave birth to her first daughter in 1953 and was soon diagnosed with severe depression and was hospitalized after a breakdown.  She was released and gave birth to her second daughter in 1955.  She had another breakdown and attempted suicide. While recovering, her therapist recommended she write poetry as a form of therapy.  She was accepted into the graduate writing program at … Continue reading →

Poetry: In Praise of New York:Thomas M. Disch

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From Poems of New York Everyman’s Library Pocket Press ** (no title) – * I found this poem in a volume of New York poetry and it called to me. I saved it to this blog and kept it in draft mode, as I have issues with my own writing;  now and again I suffer from periods of drought and distraction. I’ve been feeling stressed and pressured by a manuscript deadline. I am not a procrastinator and yet I am procrastinating. I will get it done. I knew little about Thomas Disch until this morning when I decided to use … Continue reading →

96. Poem for Monday: Billy Collins.The Fish

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The Fish Billy Collins poet laureate of the United States 2001-2003 As soon as the elderly waiter placed before me the fish I had ordered, it began to stare up at me with its one flat, iridescent eye. I feel sorry for you, it seemed to say, eating alone in this awful restaurant bathed in such unkindly light and surrounded by these dreadful murals of Sicily. And  I feel sorry for you too– yanked from the sea and now lying dead next to some boiled potatoes from Pittsburgh– I said back to the fish as I raised my fork. And … Continue reading →

95. Poetry and Illustration: Slice of Life

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Slice of Life ©11/01 poetry and illustration srk all rights reserved The Original Ray’s Famous Pizza now $1.75 a slice, on the Upper West Side. At the next booth, a heavy-set woman with blonde-streaked hair, baby stroller parked at the table’s edge, sits across from her companion, a dead man-mummy. As the woman eats her pizza, The wizened old face sleeps, Nestled, gray, into the collar of a down coat. K-Joy 98.3 Long Island’s Best Music Mix               This report brought to you by Boston Market…   The woman eats her pizza. The dead man sleeps, then opens its … Continue reading →

103. Original Poetry and Photography: Make Over

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I hope this is a crisper version, and integration of the original and first edit. I really hope. Thank you all so much, you taught me so much. Make Over (second rewrite 2/3/09) I have seen you in dreams. You are young and beautiful, sitting in a car, giggling with your date in front of your building, off Fifth, waiting for alternate side parking to end, having martinis that you brought down on a tray. I still grab at the moment, the one in my mind, where I can see you laughing, tossing the perfectly cut curls, white teeth surrounded … Continue reading →

82. Poetry: Atlas

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Atlas ©1/15/02 . . Follow the highways, interstates, expressways, of the lines on my face the veins of my body. Stop at the green lights of my eyes and go at the sight of red blood. I know my hair is a tangle of weeds, brambles, and memories of fingers. My heart is a rotary through which arteries go. Some of my countries have been earth-quaked, or glaciered, shifting south when once north, creating civil unrest. Craters have formed where I have cried, filling lakes, now barren, and the desert cracked where I have laughed. Uplifted like mountains by the … Continue reading →

84. Poetry: To Be Or Not To Be

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Evolution ©5/1/07 all rights reserved by author BANG!   Birth. Fire. Water. Earth. Cretaceous, spacious, bodacious, dearth– Buds, plants, pollen; cries  for bees, moths, butterflies.  Homosapiens: planters, farmers, sowers,  buzzers, flying, busy, growers;  Petals, stamens, pistols, honey; Hives, harvest, workers; money–   Cell phones ringing? GPS?  Fly too high like Icarus?  Hives are empty, won’t be long: barren fields, dry and wan, sunspots? warming? global spawn? Look again, the bees are gone. On Einstein’s earth: years left there’s four– once the bees are nevermore.  Bang. Comments (7 total) Post a Comment redhe… Offline IM How lovely, how true, and how very … Continue reading →

88. Poetry: Fall

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I thought I would post a poem I wrote from its inception to finish; I wrote it while on sabbatical in 2001. It starts with a free writing exercise on Fall. You can see where I took the leaves. 1. Free writing exercise . Autumn begins in the Lower East side Shortly after school starts and the Heat burns out of the air. I am 8 years old; in my part of the city there is an oasis of trees. I am instructed to collect the reds and golds and bring the Dropped treasures of maples and elms to school: … Continue reading →

32. Poetry: Blue Cheese

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Lunacy ©2002     original post 5/7/07   I The butter moon Waits to be spread Across the sky, Now black bread. For brief moments, The view will last, My eyes fill with this bright repast. And then with hunger, My heart does long, And bite by bite, The moon is gone. II Hughs, Plath: Wrath. Rivera, Kahlo: Halo. Rodin, Claudell: Hell. Man on the moon. I am so cold.   ””” Comments (9 total) Post a Comment Lex Offline I think I just lost again in the poetry. Am I that bad? Tuesday May 8, 2007 – 05:20am (ICT) … Continue reading →

184. Poetry: Civil War: part 3

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This concludes Civil War.             If you have not as yet read the previous parts, Part 1: Part 2:   3. The South But then! The sound of a key in the door, and the scraping of metal and the heavy screech of the police lock(1) wedged into the floor, but coming free. It was Aunt Selma checking up on her nephew! Aunt Selma who left Uncle Nathan behind while she performed this mitzvah for her sister, Greta. Aunt Selma, all five feet of her; her white hair, her eyes magnified behind her thick glasses, … Continue reading →

143. Poetry: Series: Harlem On My Mind: 5. Flaws

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A special “thank you,” to Tyler, who was the impetus for me to write this poem. I had thought I completed this series in 2002, but when he said he anticipated the 5th poem, I thought, “uh oh!” I better get out of my “dry spell” and get to work. I  highly recommend him if you are suffering from “writer’s block.”       The poems in this series are: 1. Skin 2. Take The “A” Train 3. Hail Mary 4. Theft 5. Flaws It was 1966, I was a freshman in college, Harlem was one of many suffering parts … Continue reading →

136. Poetry Series: Harlem On My Mind: 4. Theft

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Shepard Hall, The City College of New York 4th in the series, Harlem On My Mind It was spring, it was warm, the weather was kind; events were not. Theft April 1968 Someone stole the gold Cross pen from atop my notebook.  It was the beginning of a period of suffering and transition.   Soon after, it was announced that The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King had been killed; we filled the mazes of corridors of Shepard Hall; it crowns the North Campus, the building that looks like a huge, regal, fortress of dark-bricked, chocolate cake, adorned with drips of … Continue reading →

128. Poetry: Series: Harlem On My Mind: 3. Hail Mary

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Shephard Hall, The City College of New York This is the third poem in my series, Harlem on My Mind.  Harlem is a black community in the upper middle section of Manhattan.    Series: Harlem on My Mind 1. Skin 2. Take The “A” Train I graduated from High School a term early;  I was in a rush to start college and get my life going.  I attended graduation ceremonies on a cold January night and the next day began my life as a college student at The City College of New York, in Harlem.  I was 17 years old, … Continue reading →