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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Passover Blessing

In
April
We remember
Our lives as slaves
Long  ago  in Egypt
Eat unleavened bread
to   commemorate
the    Exodus
And we pray
for others
to be
free

 Ba ruch 
 A  t a h 
 Ad o nai 
 Eloheinu 
 M e lech 
 ha-Olam 
a s h e  r 
 kid 'shanu
 b'mitzvotav 
v ' tzivanu
 l '  had lik
neir  shel
Yom Tov 
Blessed
Art Thou
O,   Lord
Our  God
King of the
Uni v erse
Who  Hast
Commanded
Us to kindle
the light of 
the holiday

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Mini Challenge for Easter Sunday

The Last Supper

tHE wine won't wash down the dreary WEariness
of this
MEal
meant to NOurish so why am 
I empty
the plates
grATE
teeth
clenched
fistS under napkINS
I fold
Dinner's COLD
as YOUr stARE.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Avant Edge: e.e. cummings

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Letters

We found them
when we cleaned out your house
You had saved them
all these years
My letters
tied with a pink ribbon
kept in a shoebox
in your dresser
As I read through them
I saw my writing change
from big, round letters
to cursive
to hearts dotting the 'i's
to hurried adult scrawl
I met myself
as a child
a teen
and an adult again
Thank you
for giving me back a piece of
myself.

submitted (late again!) for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, FB Friday, Postmark: Poetry

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Secrets

source

 There are things we kept secret
After all, who wants to know everything
about the one they love?
Mystery is more enticing than mundane
and the unknowable is irresistible

So there are things we kept secret
after even decades had passed
and thousands of nights in the same bed
There are words we never spoke
Wishes we never shared

Walking around with dark glasses on
we bumped into edges of expectations
and tripped over each others'  hopes
until we were both so bruised
it hurt to be around each other

There are things we kept secret
after they didn't matter any more
after we bled until there was no more blood
when it was time
to either mend the holes
or die.