Category Archives: poetry

March 19, 2012 · 6:38 pm

Climbing the Ladder

by Janet R. Kirchheimer (New York, NY)

Who opens a negotiation with, “I will work
for your younger daughter Rachel for seven years.”
Offer to work for a year, maybe two,
then settle on three or four.
After seven years of labor, what does Jacob get?
Leah, the older sister.
Their father, Laban, tells him, “It is not the practice
in our place to marry off the younger before the older.”
Says he’ll give him Rachel if he serves another seven years.
What choice does Jacob have?

Take a look at Joseph.
He interprets Pharaoh’s dreams and tells him
a great famine is coming, tells Pharaoh he needs
someone to run the country.
So Pharaoh appoints him viceroy.
Now there’s a man who knows how to get ahead.
He even gets a wife for free, doesn’t have to work a stitch for her.
Of course, his descendants end up as slaves in Egypt
for two hundred and ten years, but that’s another story.

Janet R. Kirchheimer, a teaching fellow at Clal, is the author of How to Spot One of Us (2007), a collection of poems about her family and the Shoah. Her poems and essays have appeared in several journals such as the Connecticut Review and Limestone, as well as online at Beliefnet and drafthorse, where this poem first appeared. It’s reprinted here with the kind permission of the author.

For more about Kirchheimer’s work, visit: http://productsearch.barnesandnoble.com/search/results.aspx?WRD=janet+r+kirchheimer&page=index&prod=univ&choice=allproducts&query=Janet+R+Kirchheimer&flag=False&ugrp=2

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March 5, 2012 · 9:08 am

A Fan in the Stands

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

A fan in the stands
reaching over the railing
for a foul ball falls 20 feet to his death.
His son next to him witnesses all.
So now tell me there is a God.
Tell me this wasn’t some kind of celestial joke,
exacted upon a father taking his son to a game.
Yes, the world has seen greater calamities,
but is this not a microcosm of the universe’s absurdity
when a tragedy so sudden, personal and wrong
can happen without a second’s notice?
Sure, it is not up to me to ask Job-like questions,
questions beyond my meager capacity to understand.
Yet, I am more outraged by these minor disturbances
than by full-scale slaughter I cannot comprehend.
I weep for the death of an individual,
but “at the immolation of a race, who cries?”

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in a new YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy, edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

He wrote this poem in response to last summer’s baseball tragedy when a fan fell twenty feet from the outfield stands while reaching for a ball during a game at the Texas Rangers’ ballpark in Arlington, TX. The quote in the poem’s last line is from John Blight’s “Death of a Whale.”

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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February 20, 2012 · 9:34 am

My Neshama Yeterah

(the extra soul you acquire on Shabbat)

by Janet Ruth Falon (Elkins Park, PA)

I welcome her, weekly,
later, in the summer, so I can hold on to the sun,
earlier, when it’s cold, to get away from winter’s bite.
She’s always on time,
bringing what my mother would call a “hostess gift” —
some painted daisies, or cider, or a seasonal pie.
We both wash off the day before dinner
and chat about bits of this-and-that to reconnect
before we join the others around the table.

Everyone welcomes her warmly
with the embrace you give to someone’s frequent friend.
But she’s there for me, alone,
until the next day wanes,
always by my side:
my shadow, smelling like lemon verbena,
my velvet soul,
my sister, the one who I never knew I wanted.
She holds my hand at the table
knowing it comforts me
and fiddles with my hair like hope.
She tells me not to fill up on challah,
and to breathe in this moment,
and appreciates my conversation
even when I’m silent,
even when we’re all alone.

Janet Ruth Falon, the author of The Jewish Journaling Book (Jewish Lights, 2004), teaches a variety of writing classes — including journaling and creative expression — at many places, including the University of Pennsylvania. She leads a non-fiction writing group and works with individual students, and is continuing to write Jewish-themed readings for what she hopes will become a book, In the Spirit of the Holidays.

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February 13, 2012 · 9:17 am

Egyptian Nights

by Ilan Braun (Le Tour-du-Parc, Brittany, France)

Too often, my tired soul filled with doubts
Resumes its journey back to far-away Egypt
How it takes delight to find again the deep and burning nights
Of ancient Egypt
Yes, on the Nile’s shore my soul is feasting
On lentils and meat
On sweet and forbidden fruits
And in the starry darkness appears a beautiful veiled woman
Singing a wild and sensuous song
And dropping her white robe on the silvery dust
Her brown eyes stare at me and beg for me
Her red mouth half opened
And she stretches her arms
While the tent’s sides are shutting at twilight
The Egyptian desire holds me very tight
And forges in my body and heart
Chains stronger than iron
Consenting slave seeking his master’s approval
My desire is a treacherous goddess
And my soul bends its forehead, touching the mire
While high above are lamenting the Angels

Ilan Braun is a retired French journalist who wrote for L’Arche. A poet, writer, painter and amateur historian on the Holocaust and post-war Jewish clandestine immigration to Israel, he has lived in Israel and Australia and visited over 30 countries.

You can read more of his work in Labyrinthe poétique: De la terre au ciel (Publibook, Paris, 2009) and in English (“The Oak of Tears”) in Under One Canopy: Readings in Jewish Diversity, edited by Karen Primack (Kulanu Inc. Silver Spring, MD. 2003).

For more information about his work, visit: www.ilanbraun.dr.ag

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February 6, 2012 · 8:40 am

“Oh, Wow, Oh, Wow, Oh, Wow!”

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

“Oh, wow, oh, wow, oh, wow!”
– Purported to be Steve Jobs’ last words.

Did you see something?
Or someone?
Visionary on earth,
did your far-flung sight
earn you special access,
a quick peek into the anteroom of heaven?
Maybe He wanted to show you
His new communication system,
a celestial Facebook that would unite
those separated by time and distance.
Or maybe, He wanted to give you a preview
of all future gifts He means to bestow.
Or maybe, He wanted to give you a tour
of His world-wide-web connection.
Tell me, Steve, what did you see?
Before I book passage to the great beyond,
I would like some idea of my itinerary.

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in a new YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy,  edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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January 23, 2012 · 9:11 am

A Woman of Valor, Who Can Find?

by Rachel Roberts (San Jose, CA)

She is old and young
all at once.
She carries centuries
and a language no longer spoken
in a stewpot
fastened to her back,
with a ladle to draw deep,
as she smiles, only remembering
as far back as yesterday;

The family complains that
her chicken has cholesterol
and that the flanken is fattening.
There is too much shiny oil
and not enough fresh green
to comport with vain standards of modern health;

But to me, the smell of onions in a pan
is beauty and perfect love
in the midst of a world malnourished
by exact measurements
and starved of substances that cannot
be easily quantified;

She knew how to love without hurting.
She loved us even when we did not love ourselves.
She forgot our infractions,
and stopped us from carrying anger in our hearts
simply by virtue of her example.
She overcooked her food and overwatered her plants.

Simple. Small. Innocent Diviner.
Her price is far above rubies.

Rachel Roberts wrote this poem in honor of her grandmother, Ida Rubin z”l, and  read it at her funeral in Livingston, NJ on February 21, 2011.  You can read more of Rachel’s poetry at her blog, A Postalcard from Ashkenaz: http://postalcard.posterous.com/

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January 2, 2012 · 9:44 am

My New Year

by Janet Ruth Falon (Elkins Park, PA)

January first doesn’t feel like my new year
even though it’s time for fresh calendars,
and melancholy after-Christmas sales,
and bracing for icy winter, and wishing beyond,
and starting from zero in Blue Cross deductibles,
and whittling-down diets after holiday fressing.

Rosh Hashanah feels like new year
when leaves dress up, then dry up, and fall,
and kids, bored with freedom, go back to school,
and the tans fade away, and the lines disappear,
and we all about-face and shift inward,
towards the refuge of home,
towards the comfort of heart,
towards the warmth of forgiving each other.

Janet Ruth Falon, the author of The Jewish Journaling Book (Jewish Lights, 2004), teaches a variety of writing classes — including journaling and creative expression — at many places, including the University of Pennsylvania. She leads a non-fiction writing group and works with individual students, and is continuing to write Jewish-themed readings for what she hopes will become a book, In the Spirit of the Holidays.

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December 26, 2011 · 9:48 am

Bubby’s Menorah

by Janet Ruth Falon (Elkins Park, PA)

I never scrape off the melted wax
on my mother’s mother’s menorah.
I like the layers of color
and the textures of time
and underneath, the tarnish of greying age.

My mother, when she visits,
picks it off with her varnished fingernails
and the probing tines of a fork,
and then polishes the menorah with pink wax,
to a sparkle that again reflects flame.

Janet Ruth Falon, the author of The Jewish Journaling Book (Jewish Lights, 2004), teaches a variety of writing classes — including journaling and creative expression — at many places, including the University of Pennsylvania. She leads a non-fiction writing group and works with individual students, and is continuing to write Jewish-themed readings for what she hopes will become a book, In the Spirit of the Holidays.

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December 19, 2011 · 8:00 am

Irene

by Mel Glenn (Brooklyn, NY)

I obsess about my daily concerns,
as if they were matters of great importance,
debating if this or that choice
makes much of a difference
in the overall scheme of things.
I wonder if people like me,
or why I continually lose things,
or whether my skills have diminished all at once.
Then, along comes Hurricane Irene,
shifting sand and water with a blustery blast,
moving car and house with comedic effect,
and banishing me to my TV set
to watch power outages and flooded streets.
I sit in the glow of the screen,
and realize that nature and I
have little to do with each other,
a further demonstration that
God and I are separate entities,
each doing what he or He wants
under trying circumstances.

The author of twelve books for young adults, Mel Glenn has lived nearly all his life in Brooklyn, NY, where he taught English at A. Lincoln High School for thirty-one years.  Lately, he’s been writing poetry, and you can find his most recent poems in a new YA anthology, This Family Is Driving Me Crazy,  edited by M. Jerry Weiss.

If you’d like to learn more about his work, visit: http://www.melglenn.com/

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December 5, 2011 · 9:21 am

In the Beginning

by Arlyn Miller (Glencoe, IL)

Don’t Call it Night
The Hill of Evil Council
Falls the Shadow
The Unloved
Heir to the Glimmering World.

Inside, Outside –
The Winds of War
Everyman
The Human Stain,
A God In Ruins.

Exit Ghost.
Undue Influence
Letting Go.
The River Breaks Up,
Blood Cries.

The Healer
Between Two Worlds,
Trial & Triumph
Invisible Mending.

The Open Cage
The Liberated Bride
The Hope–
Open Heart,
Everything is Illuminated.

In the Beginning:
The Book of Light
A Perfect Peace.

As writer-in-residence for Am Shalom, a reform synagogue in Glencoe, IL, Arlyn Miller oversaw a literary column for the synagogue’s monthly newsletter.  The column– “Meelem” (Words)– chronicled synagogue life over the course of the year. One evening, as she was perusing the synagogue library bookshelves, Arlyn was inspired to write “In the Beginning,” a found poem which is comprised entirely of titles from books in the fiction section.

A found poem is created from snippets of text found in other sources and pieced together.  If the idea intrigues you, you might try looking in the Tanakh, a siddur, Jewish magazines, newspapers, fiction or creative non-fiction books for inspiration.  Share what you find with your local Jewish community or with The Jewish Writing Project.

A poet, essayist and journalist, Arlyn also teaches creative writing in schools and in the community through Poetic License, Inc. and has recently launched Poetic License Press, which just released its inaugural publication, A Light Breakfast: poems suitable for breakfast reading. You can find out more about her work at: www.poeticlicenseinc.blogspot.com.

“In the Beginning” appears in the July/August 2011 KOL, the newsletter of Am Shalom, Glencoe, IL. It’s reprinted here with the kind permission of the author.

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