Azila, Suzanne Belling, Charlotte Cohen, Ben Krengel, John Yarbrough
On a best friend’s aliyah
You did not leave our world
Forever But for good.
Not our own, not our love,
But the altruism of ascent.
Climbing From the sandpit,
Where we made castles on the ground
And in the air; Careering to careers, always together,
Lives interwoven, intertwined.
But you climbed higher,
Leaving me ‘neath the bronze of Africa’s sun,
While you went for gold – Yerushalayim…
Suzanne Belling
Women Lib
‘Hymie’ said the Rabbi‘
you do not divorce your wife after 60 years’.
‘I have a good reason’ said Hymie
adjusting his walker.
‘She does not tie my shoe laces any more
and instead of attending to me;
she tends her virtual gardenon face book
and spends hours a day on Skype
with our great-grandchildrenin Israel’.
Azila
Bonfires
Bonfire flames Fly high
Smoke drifting
Into a starlit sky
There he lies
Guy Fawkes bound Yet no-one cries.
His old hat sparks Catherine wheels whiz Turning round and round.
The shadow
Of a gabled shop Stands behind The flapping blinds.
Torn pine trees weep Chopped branches On the ground
Smoulder and crash
The match girl
Lights the match Setting it on fire She sings a song Dreaming of desire.
So, too, her voice
Sparks memories fire Which burns so long As she sings her song.
Norwegian wood
Is set alight
While the cellos play.
When it ends
Memories splutter, hiss And float away.
Ben Krengel
Ant
I watched him fascinated Against all odds
He had made it to the top Hauling with him
A piece of long-grained rice Three times his size
Over and over
He slipped back
Or dropped the rice
And returned to retrieve it Again and again
He pushed his way forward Undaunted
Persevering Battling on Till finally he made it!
Suddenly disappearing
With his burdensome backpack
Between the tiles Into the crevice of a crack.
I marveled at this morsel of life So dedicated; so determined.
I wondered whether this tiny hero
Would be welcomed home and rewarded
Right there before me
I had witnessed The most extraordinary tenacity
One could illogically even imagine.
Driven by a reason more far-reaching
Than the human mind could ever fathom.
When I feel disheartened, I think about that ant. When I am overwhelmed, I remember that little soldier:
Such a small speck of life Propelled solely
By paramount purpose That indefatigable ant Impels my senses And stirs my soul
…. So many incredible sparks Snuffed out by unseeing, uncomprehending Degenerate giants. …..
Charlotte Cohen
The Past
Night reaches down with the weight of blood.
Naked, the orchard rocks in the wind.
The last apple lies mouldering into dust.
Somewhere a cat cries in the dark. I turn off the nightlight and dream of oil lamps, wood stoves, and outhouses. The past crawls under the door and through the window cracks. Missed opportunities become reality at night.
John Yarbrough
