Ode to the Banana

 

Oh Banana - 

presenting yourself in your own sunshined

wrapper – hanging in a comraderied bunch

or torn to single-hood on granite countertop or 

a ragged hungry hand – throughout the world -

Oh Banana - centerpiece of countless simple 

humor through ages –illustration of all that is 

sweet and softly velvet when revealed… 

Oh complicated, under-rated - majestic Banana - 

from infant mash –to icy daquiri- to show-girl 

headpiece - sexual aid or assist – on and on 

and on whirling in use and taste and wonder

whirling your way even into a last gummed meal –

You Underated - Complicated - Simple - Sensuous - Delight-

Full - Grand Banana  perfume the spectrum of life – echoing

the wildness of verdant wet jungle palms watching us with 

a slick wink –

as we slip and slide

along with you 

Secret Harbor

Secret Harbor

 

 

I begin to write of turquoise waters

and frangipani air – hammocks cradling

in air honeyed on the tongue – a lulling

born of gentle lapping waters on white

sand … the laughter of a child far away

in the distance … 

I begin to write -

Seeing the white washed stucco – the

dripping arbors of bougainvillea and the

flaming crimson of bowing flamboyant

trees – a banana daiquiri cold in my relaxed 

hand – I begin to write and it is obliterated

by the Hotel Hamas … and I yearn to gather

the mystic magic of years of peace felt in 

this getaway … gather it into mortar and

brick and build a hotel for Hamas and all

terrorists – where through the enchanted

illumed sacred something or other hatred

will melt in the heat of the Caribbean sun

and terror will turn on the tongue to sweet

mango and papaya and pineapple and

faces soften as all sway sleepy in hammocks 

hatred washed away in the crystal waters of

love…

I begin to write of Secret Harbor,  my sanctuary -

for so many years and finish with this fervent 

dream that all nightmares of the soul end … 

that the secret of peace shall no longer be held 

and harbored but 

freed at last…

for all…  

What's Going On? Indeed! - Neshama / Clinging to Gratitude

Horror        

Clinging to Gratitude 

 

This poem was written as the horror in Ukraine unfolded and now today

another day, and new unimaginable horrors …and I cling to the gratitude

of neshama, which as I understand it, in Judaism, is the concept of the 

beginning and essence of life and the soul itself and therefore somewhat

appropriate for the current nightmare in Israel as I….

Cling with gratitude and great gulping breaths, calming my horrified eyes

Trying to slow my anxious heart, and trembling fingers -

Grateful

I breathe fill my lungs, fill my stunned self with self-serving

Gratitude  

for  my supreme, unguaranteed privilege of safety

as with deep quavering breaths – I type in a quiet

room where faint bird song drifts through the window. 

 

 

 

 

NESHAMA - UKRAINE 

 

Neshama - Neshama - breath of life -  sacred soul ... 

sit in my bed at night - in the dawn of early morning

this helpless cheer-leader - pounding sunflower 

pom poms - poems and pretty pictures -illuming my 

unadulterated incompetence to truly assist - with each

breath - my shame - inhaled - my safe existence exhaled 

as I sit - watching, watching, the soul of freedom furl

manifested in streets - one particled part of this entire 

watching world who gather and cheer - some as simple

spectators at a novel televised event -this watching world 

that sends a bit of support here and there as men learn 

weapons and kiss loved ones off – 

as mothers craft molotovs - babes at breast – 

take arms or flight away - in the cold, cold -

smiling for children, tears flicked off tired eyes- 

as a singular voice calm and measured rises above –

rises in a clarion call to all to come and join in protecting freedom sacrosanct - 

calls in unwavering passion –

 Neshama manifested – 

in a leader in a people – 

as the world watches - and watches and watches –

 Neshama - Neshama -soul of breath - of life - 

We are one - We are one breath - 

I cringe in my privilege far far 

away - push the button on my 

coffee maker -return to 

the couch along with millions

of others to watch - to watch - 

Nesahama - Neshama 

soul of humanity -

my breath held 

witness to 

Glory -

unstoppable 

Neshama –

Breath

Soul 

Life 

 

 

Once

 

Once 

 

Once my world was dotted

with endless hills,

and I climbed, or skipped, or ran, confident

barefoot, or booted, flip-flopped sure-footed

and if I slipped, the worst was a grazed knee

or a bit of a bruised heart – if an obstacle

appeared – a jagged rock or loosening purchase

the earth was my friend – digging in hand-holds

or toe-touches – or walk abouts – I climbed on - safely

surely, always – onward – convinced in my clear

anticipation of the always achieved acme – 

daisies under blue skies - a flat place to sit for a while –

and when rested –refreshed -revitalized – renewed –

I’d stretch, stand, limbs loose and long, atop that hill –

breathe fresh air and survey the view –

the endless panorama of hill after verdant hill

awaiting me….

 

Now, in surreality I walk a flat landscape – 

 slopeless spreading toward an ever approaching horizon

yearning to believe that beyond lay fields of daisied dominion

searching

for

one

more

hill

to 

be