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Poetry || SubmissionsPoems by Jay Seth GubermanFRAGMENT Between the songs of the nighthawk and the mourning dove the sound of apples beneath us and the sirens rushing between life and death, we lay together in the darkness like two blind people reading love poetry. WHAT A WASTE the young seeds unsown buried beneath long forgotten granite reasons a waste of stone and otherwise arable soil which now lies fallow and barren like the ancient womb from which they were given way unsafely into the world of parks and laughter of tears and granite alibis for anothers selfish desire to raise a flag upon a distant hill and bury beneath it like supporting struts the very bones of our future. GALLERY I saw a portrait of Uri Zvi Greenberg, it showed an older man perhaps twice my age, with no recognizable poetic traits in his face, perhaps if they had shown a young man it would've been different? I saw a portrait of Miklos Radnoti he died as a young man, with no recognizable poetic traits in his face, and I have nearly lived his full life, perhaps if they had shown a child it would've been different? I saw a portrait of Anne Frank whom all the world knows. I am twice her age, it's not different it's worse peace comes regardless of age it begins for the living at the expense of the dead. I saw a portrait from when I was a child, like the opening lines of the epic poem I am becoming, I will not be a national treasure like the Kalevala or Shahnameh I will be immortalized like all the unnamed citizens of Uruk remembered merely because they lived there, whose names are unknown like those who did not leave a diary, or a notebook of poems, and like sheep to the slaughter did not live to my time to read them. AN AMERICAN QUANDRY How can I pull myself up by my bootstraps, if I am living on a shoestring? ABEL'S LAST CELL PHONE CONVERSATION "Yahlo…, this is. Oh,…I have so much to live for. My blood?, …my blood doesn't cry out It sings, It sings a glorious harmony. The ground?, …the ground thirsts for my plow, And my flocks are numerous And all that I offer, accepted. ….wait a moment, s'one's coming… it's my brother…, It seems urgent…, …'scuse me, I'm sorry but I'll have to go…." [end] Several minutes later "Yahlo,...no, this is Cain. No, I don't know... I'll transfer you to his voice-mail hold on." PENNY LOAFERS IN BUSHNELL PARK He was too lazy To put pennies in his loafers And too cheap To offer a penny for your thoughts Nickel & dime-ing His way through life Until the pennies had no value And the thoughts weren't cost effective And the income was disposable And the outcome was predictable. 2001 "I never met Jews like that" my Mother exclaimed after hearing about someone whose family has been here for a century or more… I guess we're still green horns after 88 years. Mit a schmeer here and a schmatteh there A tatteh becomes Dad, A brokheh a prayer And a schmuck, President. We who went where "di vildeh Kochkeh geyht" Have been transformed into players of golf Who constantly complain about goose droppings on the course. Mit a schmeer here and a schmatteh there A Mameh becomes Mom A shabbes goy becomes the Help And an oysvorf, President. My Bubbie taught me Yiddish And after so many years, you'd think I'd have developed A sophisticated manner of speaking, But my tongue reflects my times where A mama-loshen refers to English A bagel is just another breakfast food, And a paskudnyak, President. I learned my lessons well, And like a regular James Bonditt I have a secret code That after a hundred years Breathes a descriptive life Into terms like; Chaim Yankel, gozlin, am ha-aretz, bulvon & balehgoleh. And like a golem They arise with a new breath of life Thanks to american democracy Like a schmeer here and a schmatteh there A Chaim Yankel is no longer just a non-entity A Gozlin is no longer just an unethical person An am ha-aretz is no longer just an ignoramous A bulvon is no longer just a blockhead And a balehgoleh is no longer just a balehgoleh, And I say to my Mother, "Vir hob'n a groyseh tsuris" when people can't tell the difference between a toches and Texas and a toches from Texas, mit a schmeer here and a schmatteh there the difference between Yidn is not so important. Jayseth Guberman can be contacted at yofijr@hotmail.com or via his website "A History of Interruptions" Previous poems by Jay Seth Guberman at Ariga Jay Seth Guberman Jay Seth Guberman Jay Seth Guberman Today's Situation
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