This heart, or: This mind

My 1st puente

In the form of two envelope quintets

This heart has no other blood known
than flowed through all past generations
linked one-by-one through space and time
by ancient Hebrew conversations
echoing through flesh and bone

~ ever more so as I've grown ~

This mind has grasped that nothing's known
though men cling tight to correlations
creating of them gods sublime
and altars built on false foundations
they worship while I stand alone

d’Verse poetics prompt:

Build a bridge

At d’Verse, poets were instructed to either:

  1. Write a poem about bridges that uses some form of the word ‘bridge’ in the poem or in the title, or:
  2. Write a puente (bridge) poem, which does not need to include the word bridge (but it can).

I opted for the 2nd alternative, and decided to make my puente poem out of two envelope quintets. Given the rhyme structure of my poem, I envision it as a suspension bridge.

Momentary heartbeats, or: Silence

Jerusalem, Israel

We live in Jerusalem, our apartment at an intersection on a major thoroughfare, the central north-south artery running through the city center. This is convenient for a family with no vehicle; a bus stop rests just outside our window, making the Jerusalem downtown readily accessible.

As you can well imagine, we constantly hear the sounds of traffic from our home. Ambulances, police cars, honking, stop announcements from passing busses… Our landlord told me that he could never live in such a noisy place as this (his grandparents were the ones who purchased and once lived in this apartment). Nevertheless, none of this bothers us – we’re used to noisy city life.

Right now, at 1:40 AM, the bus stop sits empty, visible under the street lights. Little Israeli flags flutter above it, stretching over the thoroughfare, as Israel Independence Day was just two weeks ago. The soft rumbling of car engines is heard, a reminder of humanity’s footprint. The day’s heavy winds have given way to a chilly night breeze, but it’s strong enough yet that I decided to pull the window closed immediately after snapping a photograph.

Stillness in motion
Silence is momentary
Israel's heartbeats

d’Verse haibun Monday:

‘The present moment’

The d’Verse prompt: Let us now bear witness to the present moment! However you experience it, write a haibun that expresses the present moment.

Always belonged together, or: Night takes life

A ‘Magnetic Poem’ tanka

Wanna try? Click here.

mother and father
always belonged together
their child remembers
moments of joy, tears, and heart
night takes life, but can't touch love

Notes

  • For this poem, I decided to make use of the ‘Love Set’ on the Magnetic Poetry website;
    • I think this is a brand new set of virtual magnets because I noticed it for the very first time tonight when I visited the Magnetic Poetry website!
  • I once again opted for a tanka, rather than a haiku;
    • The extra two lines (14 syllables) provide a greater challenge, as well as a larger canvas;
  • This particular poem is something of a reflection on my memories of my parents and my childhood in the context of my Papa’s death nearly three years ago;
  • I searched for and found the featured image only after I had written the entire tanka.

Moon leaves, or: Night thoughts

My 1st kimo

Night envelopes; penetrates; becoming;
Absent moon leaves empty space;
Thoughts sparkle among stars

What’s a kimo?

According to this website, kimo poems are an Israeli 🇮🇱 version of haiku. Apparently, there was a need for more syllables in Hebrew. That said, most of the rules are still familiar:

  • 3 lines.
  • No rhymes.
  • 10 syllables in the first line, 7 in the second, and 6 in the third.

Also, the kimo is focused on a single frozen image (kind of like a snapshot). So it’s uncommon to have any movement happening in kimo poems.