Author Archives: Ken Greenman

No one dies before her time. But, happy is he who dies, punctually. Loving is the God who takes His children from this mucky, sick earth prior to the great eruption. Before the living must bare witness to the penalties … Continue reading →

The cat hunched beneath the bird bath, hungry. The finch perched on the birch branch, thirsty. God watched, holding Her breath.

Pass the Sabbath creating poems, celebrating creation with creativity. The created emulating Creator with couplet, sonnet, epic. A rhyme in Holy Time. Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it Holy, poetically.

Better life through chemistry has erased the romance from suicide. Our knowledge of seratonin, nuro-ephrenephrin, floating the brain in serenity. When unstable, take a pill, zanax, perhaps, not the end of a rope, the passionate leap. Bouts with depression, a … Continue reading →

Life, you will make a death of me. While I yodel through the years, laughing, drying tears, resigned to so many beginnings without endings, though some fruitions, some harvested fruits, but constantly reminded of cold, dead, white winter coming, when … Continue reading →

This flesh, these bones, organs, this brain shrivel, dry to dust. What took a lifetime to become disappears in days. But what remains rockets acrooss the cosmos, through more dimensions than we can imagine. Until, not so far off, mere … Continue reading →

Floating in their graves, saved embryos of Resurrection await their fullness of time. Quickened by salvation, no hard labor needed. Winged mid-wives merely open tombs to bring forth infants into glorious rebirth, trumpet the toddlers through air sparkling with diamonds … Continue reading →

My dreams, of late, grow louder, almost choral. I have ceased being deaf in my dreams. And old. And cranky. Dreams grow younger when old men dream.

Alchemic time turns brunette to silver, athletic to spry. In due course, old couples morph to twins. Then they are one. They have won! Enemy no longer, the clock melts. Soon, only the soft waiting place desired.

Think not, when curtain falls I disappear Imagination wed to memory births a thriving world, where, running through its streets and forests, come the images of our play, where it echos in the hearts of the audience and I live … Continue reading →