Author Archives: Ken Greenman

I eye-witnessed a murder this morning. Brutal, savage in its cruelty! Horrible! The heron hunting the pond, while box turtles rest on the banks in the warming sun. Gray squirrels, for fun, chasing each other along the shore line, swapping … Continue reading →

The undeniable realities: We are. (somehow or another) We are here. (somehow or another) There is a sun…and it moves! (somehow or another) There is a sea…and it moves! (somehow or another) and so we move with the movement of … Continue reading →

The Pennsylvania pastor, his Union Army service ended by an errant Confederate bullet in his leg rejoins his congregation of “Onward Christian Soldiers”, preaching to them in the little brown church in the wildwood, soon after the three day horror … Continue reading →

The lovely Israeli archeologist, her sabras skin shinning in the desert sun. She kneels beneath the canopy while she works. With her tooth brush in her right hand, her little whisk broom in her left, she sweeps between the stones, … Continue reading →

An accidental result of my premature birth, my sightless right eye left me with some… difficulties, but none insurmountable. So, I stumbled on through early childhood, bumping into corner walls on my right side, knocking over multiple glasses of milk … Continue reading →

First, Max, in the turmoil of a roiling Russian Revolution (The power of an unstoppable hope smashing into the bulk of an immovable Czar) offered his angry, minuscule contribution: an errant pistol shot, missing the local commissar by a whisker. … Continue reading →

Self Authenticating Truth (so one might hope) should be undeniable. A light from which the doubter can never escape. As a felon hidden in the dark cave hiding from the rays of a torch in the bounty hunters hand, the … Continue reading →

My fathers mother, Grand-Ma Rose was not the famous Rose Schneiderman, powerful, Jewish-immigrant writer in the hurley-burley-lower-Manhattan-chaos of the early 1900’s. No, she was merely Rose Schneider, one of thousands of escapee’s from what was not yet Poland, who passed … Continue reading →

My friend and Neighbor, Charlie G. passed away last week. This poem is for his family… Between college semesters and in the summers, I worked for MALSON AND SONS building houses, schools and churches Hubert Malson was 86, but he’d … Continue reading →

A class in The Doctrine of The Sabbath. That’s the sort of thing I studied at the Seventh-Day-Adventist Seminary. The Professor, the late, great, Doctor Roy, wise teacher he was, personable, you know? On the first night of class, he … Continue reading →