Sunday, February 12, 2006

Slavin's Poetry Hour

Howdy all,

I wrote most of these on the #405 bus from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv this morning. I had been debating since I woke up at 5:45 whether to take a bus to Tel Aviv that I could walk just a few minutes to catch, or a train to Tel Aviv that I probably would take a bus to. So I ended up taking the TA bus (round trip for 30.10 in Israeli shekels), and was reading a bit as it wound its way through Jerusalem until suddenly, my breath was taken away by the sight of the Jerusalem Hills in the morning – which I hadn’t seen for quite some time – as the bus got on the highway to the coast.

I even wrote a little walking into work – which is difficult, if you have only part of a pen, a notebook, and you’re walking along not paying attention to the traffic around you…anyway, I hope you like them. They are all my originals, and so all poetry © 2006 by Jeremy S. Slavin, All Rights Reserved.

I haven't written this much poetry since, like...well sixth or seventh grade, I think.



Sunrise Over Zion

As the morning mist rose into oblivion,
I glimpsed the sunrise over Zion.

As green trees swayed and clouds parted,
I glimpsed the sunrise over Zion.

As love's redoubt gained reinforcement,
I glimpsed the sunrise over Zion.

As the haze cleared and a world awoke,
I glimpsed the sunrise over Zion.

I shall have not fear, for hope resides in my heart.

I have glimpsed a sunrise over Zion.


The Terrorist’s Song

If war is pretty, then death must be beautiful –
This is the terrorist’s song.
“Glory to God”, for I kill in His name –
This is the terrorist’s song.
To you this is battle, to me this is war –
This is the terrorist’s song.
There are no innocents, there is only my cause –
This is the terrorist’s song.
To receive my own virgins, I must kill some in return –
This is the terrorist’s song.
“God is Great!”, I scream when I die –
That was the terrorist’s song.


Wall of Walls

The wall is a wall, and nothing more.
And yet it is something special.
Ants crawl its cracks, birds perch and pray,
While young boys become men beside it.

The wall is a wall, and nothing more.
And yet we care for its welfare.
We cry at its stones, stick notes in its crevices,
And we hope that God is listening.


The Golden Bird

I observed a golden bird in the sky,
Flying to the West this morning.
As it glistened in the sun,
I wondered where it was going.

To the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave,
To take in Opportunity’s delights?
Or to France or England, or Italy too,
To view some of Europe’s sights?

Or was it just flying because it was able,
Celebrating the freedom of flight?
Sailing and swerving, dipping and curving,
Enjoying the winds of God’s might?

Will I ever discover where the golden bird goes,
Or shall I remain ever ignorant;
Never spreading my wings or flying along,
At the end declaring as wasted my time spent?

As the golden bird flies, a lonely man walks,
Along a cold beach in the morning.
Dipping his feet in the frigid sea water,
Its chill serving him as a warning.

There is much to see and much to do,
Do you really want to tempt fate?
Or will you grab destiny by the horns,
No longer content to sit and wait?



I was reading the writing of a friend this morning,
When suddenly I was distracted;
I saw a sight, a beauty to behold,
And so then it was that I acted.
I pulled out my notebook and searched for a pen,
Alas, one was not easy to find.
As meters went by, I felt much restricted,
It seemed I was in a bind.
But lo and behold, a pen appeared;
Well, the skeleton of such a thing.
In any case as the sun over Zion rose,
Words were put to page, hopefully to ring.


On the Road

To where do we travel in our lives,
And where do we choose not to go?
Can we afford to salve our inaction,
While against us great tigers roar?
I know not to where I am going,
But cherish at the moment where I am.
As I make my way upon life’s great road,
Simply grateful I am to be on it.

No comments: