Category Archives: Poems

Grand Uncle Claus sat at the end of the table. Grand Aunt Genevieve stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder. She called to all their guests, their loved family and friends. “Come to the table! All come to the … Continue reading →

Rabbi Israel Shulman, head rabbi of the Savanah, Georgia Temple Beth-El was ancient. He had officiated at the Bar and Bat Mitsphas of the now elderly senior members of the Executive Committee of the Temple and that committee was at … Continue reading →

At 73! A new knee and a new lense behind my eye. But still, the old me. Do I see the Invisible differently? Am I quicker to kneel now? Do I pop-up into action with a deeper understanding of what, … Continue reading →

She sat in front of me. It was a free ADULT-ED-LECTURE on the science of light. Her Mahogany hair cascaded over the back of her chair. I smelled orange blossoms. Where had she slept last night? As she settled into … Continue reading →

I am old. No, not “getting older”. Old! And you will be also, quicker than you would ever expect. And around that time you’ll start to detect certain changes that are, (sorry, my young friends) inevitable. Sure, that 6-rep-set of … Continue reading →

Ah! To recall the parquet floor! The parking- two miles away. The Jones Brothers, Sam and K.C. speeding like rockets to the hoop. Havlicek on his hobbled legs, but running never-the-less. And there, solid in the key, a mountain, a … Continue reading →

It is in the Nature of Faith, as is gravity in the nature of Nature, to create substance and of Belief to give evidence of its creation. Thus believing makes it so. No Agnostic logic prevails against the power of … Continue reading →

Happy are he and she who feed Blue Birds, Cardinals, Chickadees and even the raptor-like Thrasher. And who, after assaulting, cursing, screaming, purchasing BB guns and sling shots and considering barbed wire wrapped tight around their defeated Droll Yankee Spinners … Continue reading →

What has The Buddha to do with rice? Rice, The Buddha? Water takes the shape of the bowl. Without, it spills to the ground. Dries in the dirt. Without rice, Buddha dies. Turns to dust as iron to rust.. Blown … Continue reading →

Of all possible micronic measure, I confess an affectionados pleasure in those most efficient laborers, those intrepid toilet-paper-perforators with their 20 pronged hand-tool, stabbing sheets as they spool so all squares are equal and with two to a wipe, we … Continue reading →