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SE Reimer Dec 2016
~

in a realm of change
a state of constance
yet lives where
flux and flood
in lucid flame burns,
a rock of hope
lies beneath.
wings of strength
are mother’s arms,
our safety from
malaise and harm.
yet even here
with deepest love
an eviction lives,
awaiting...
imminent.
this nest of love
would turn to rust,
if from its grasp
of comfort
could the eaglet ne’er
himself rid.
throw out the old,
he must.
to usher in the new;
and serve this
comfort-become-his-death,
a notice of eviction.

so good bye to
this old year,
hello to
newness’ cheer;
thy usefulness,
once new to us
is gone, and
with it goes
thy uselessness.
for more than e’er
we need a
renewed spirit of
youthfulness.
fresh arms and legs
to bear the weight,
with eagerness;
to stretch with
widening gait
toward change;
an ever fluid-ness
made possible
by willingness
to serve this
ever-grey-and-old
-turned-year,
an annulment
of a marriage,
its annual
notice of
eviction!

~

*post script.

reading all your poetry this fine morn,
the final day of a well-used year, this tumbled out.
credit to you each for thoughts and snippets,
adopted and infused here into this notice of eviction.

happy new year to each, to all,
who within these HP walls read;
who lovingly inscribe their thoughts
on posts their own, as well as others;
who breathe such wondrous words
that take our very breath away.

hugs and warm wishes
as you evict the old and cheer the new!
  Dec 2016 SE Reimer
Nat Lipstadt
A minyan is an assembly of ten Jews.  With ten present, the group can perform a fuller service, adding congregational prayers that an individual alone cannot say, and in heaven, received, as if from a 
more powerful, unified voice.

~~~
Satan laughing with delight at the happy news,
unusually proud of his soul-retrieving,
red state minions,
having scored late in the '16 season,
a long awaited prize,
a high priest of music, a hallelujah singer
just come  cross the borderline,
once a mere earth bound legend,
now to be mockingly enjoyed
in this, his legendary peculiar tier of heaven
~
a banner year it was, a cornucopia of new arrivals,
singers, songwriters, composers, conductors, rock 'n rollers,
itinerant blues musicians,
who as a rule, were not the most faithful observers
of the Ten Commandments and its host of detailed relatives
~
body and drug abusers,
of traditional morals, not such big users,
and as for their *** lives,
best not discussed in front of the baby devils,
just quite yet
~
all this made for easy "pluckings,"
as he smiled devilishly, his own ironic sense of humor,
an added delight for the new American Pie
that would forever serenade him henceforth
~
indeed this Leo-nine most new arrival,
intensifies the pleasure,
for deep in this one had waxed the god-spark,
his own fractured demise,
now allowing the cracks of light to be closing,
lessening by an immeasurable fraction
the despised joy to the world
-
then a raucous rustling heard,
a voice unseen but siren penetratingly heard proclaiming:

**** you Satan,
this time you've gone too far!

return unto me them all,
for you have overstepped the boundaries I have constructed
when birthed I the universe so long ago

these children, mine,
for though they were not perfect in their lives,
they perfected ever so much my designs,
the world I granted them,
with their music, voice and hands,
absolving them of all their sins

Surrender to me them all!

my Prince,
my lion, Cohen, high priest of my temple,
my haggard and worn Merle,
the greyed and Frey'd eagle, Glenn,
Natalie, daughter of the Earth King of Cole,
my rose of Sharon Jones,
my Emerson and my Lake,
Leon Russell,
my white bearded russet
who wrote 'A Song For You,'
the Duchess, Patty,
my Bobby Vee,
the first ro see
'the night has a thousand eyes,'
Frank Sinatra Jr., his fathers torch bearer,
my David, my right arm, my Bowieknife carrier,
who fell from heaven and needs returning unto me,
mine own Kanter,Jeffersonian pilot of my Airplane,
my Michael, George,
my Martin, George,
who never sang a word
but gifted us some Beatles,
My black and White Maurice,
who reignited the Earth, with Wind and Fire

all these mine and all the musicians of this year,
they have died, but not their music,
now to join my heavenly chorus,
my musicians' minyan
Second of a trilogy, but the first one posted,
about Leonard Cohen

Kohen or cohen (or kohain; Hebrew: כֹּהֵן‎, "priest", pl. כֹּהֲנִים‎ kohanim) is the Hebrew word for priest used colloquially in reference to the Aaronic priesthood. Jewish kohanim are traditionally believed and halakhically required to be of direct patrilineal descent from the biblical Aaron. The term is colloquially used in Orthodox Judaism in reference to modern day descendants of Aharon, brother of Moses.

Among the few remaining responsibility of a cohen today is the chanting of the priestly  blessing in the synagogue on high holy days in a special tune, instantly recognizable  by every Jew.   When the  Jewish priest chants the blessing, the Spirit of God is presumed to become present in the synagogue, and all bow their heads, fathers cover their children's eyes, lest one witness  god's image. Ironically, the special way that a cohen extends his arms and holds his fingers in a V  shape, was borrowed by another Canadian Jew, Leonard Nimoy, as inspiration for Spock's  greeting.

see en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing

see
//jewcy.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/leonard-nimoy-vulcan-salute-yiddish
SE Reimer Dec 2016
~

the purest
possibilities,
in my hand lie;
kinetics in
miniature,
these what-can-be,
packages of dna;
manual of direction,
a manuscript precise,
compendium of
instruction;
these gathered
strands like
silken rope
not easily broken;
pre-known,
pre-programmed,
to be all that
can ever be
pre-planned,
pre-destined,
yet before
living must...
die!

carnation, corn
posey and peas,
happiness, hope,
love and peace,
in my palm
all possibilities,
e’en seeds
of change,
sown so long ago,
dead and buried,
warmed and watered,
nurtured, tended
sprouting now;
what will be...
may already
be determined
completely,
but...

their height,
their health,
their breadth of
wealth,
their depth of
beauty and
band of
fragrance...
these are all
within my hand
to cultivate
perfect,
and bring
to fruition;
like poetry
in motion,
all like seeds
within my grasp.

~

*post script.

"unless a grain of wheat falls
into the earth and dies,
it remains... alone;
but if it dies,
it bears much fruit."

and is this not the most exciting,
the most compelling part?
watching one’s seeds grow,
and bear much fruit...
the becoming of,
great beauty?
  Dec 2016 SE Reimer
Kelly Rose
For years they shared similar
Goals and dreams
Then a crossroads
Upon the horizon
Brought them to a halt
Choices were made
And paths diverged
Once united, now divided
Though moments
Shine with laughter and joy
Swiftly, storm clouds
Of disdain and contempt
Can color the air
As choices made are ridiculed
A delicate balance exists
That teeters rhythmically
One minute, camaraderie prevails
Stirring feelings of love
The next moment, despair rules
Planting seeds of rage
How I miss the one,
But hate the other…

Kelly Rose
© December 29, 2016
  Dec 2016 SE Reimer
Dhaye Margaux
~
Color me with hues coming from your heart
Touch me gently as you hold your brush
Draw every memory you want to come alive
Put them gently and never do it in a rush

~

Leave traces of your hand all around my frame
Make me your reflection,  your soul's looking glass
Feed your spirit with creation you always want
Color me with shades of you,  make me your prettiest canvass

~
I really miss painting... (:
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