#jewish poems on Hello Poetry

Kitt Jul 2017

A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be

A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee

A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee

A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely

A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by

A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe

A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release

The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same

Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.

Eugeneus Borowski is my great-grandfather, a child Holocaust victim. This piece is currently featured in the World War II poetry unit in the syllabus of a literature course offered through Northern Essex Community College. The only surviving first-hand account of Gene’s experience is a cassette tape of an interview he gave many years ago.

#holocaust #remembrance #victim #loss #forever #hope #jewish #prayer #mother #church

Derrick Feinman Dec 2016

Oración

الله أكبر
ברוך אתה הי
Reveal yourself, please

#god #seeking #jewish #muslim #arabic #hebrew #deist

Ellis Reyes Dec 2016

The Eight Days of Hanukkah

The 8 Days of Hanukkah

On the first day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - A Torah portion that I can't read.

On the second day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Two loaded bagels and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the third day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the fourth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the fifth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the sixth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the seventh day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - Seven Jews a-kvetching, six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.

On the eighth day of Hanukkah, my rabbi gave to me - 8 burning candles, seven Jews a-kvetching, six mohels brissing, FIVE Maccabeats, four Shabbos goyim, three spinning dreidls, two loaded bagels, and a Torah portion that I can't read.....

Dedicated to my pal Richard B. Thank you for friendship and a million great moments.

#jewish #hanukkah #holiday

Hayley Siebert Dec 2016

The Father's Daughter

I will always be a Siebert
I will live and die a Siebert

I will die before you do
My soul escaped my body,
in that glass box

My father
this man they all loathe
But cannot ****

They will **** me
Me and brother
never belonged

We have his blood
we were both strapped to a machine
We were both stricken of life

Lungs scarred
The voices are genetic
This introvert loneliness

This manic death
Slowly consuming me
I walk with my father's name

His shadow over my crown
This jewish rat! This stupid blonde dead baby
I will never belong

My brother calls out
He has my eyes
He sees what I see

Born of the same stock
Faces lost in books
Perspective of the world
from the view of education

Horst? Can you hear me
I am my father's daughter
I will always be a Siebert
This is how I will die

Like you, I will die young
I will never marry
I will never bear children

I am nothing, nemo
The name will die with me
But I am his daughter

They will dance on my grave
Or they will mourn the loss of their scapegoat

My body is hallow
I lost my soul
God forgive me

Saul is his hebrew image
Where is he now?
Dead, the man I knew is dead

The star of David
they all mock
But they forgot

How history repeats itself
How the creeping of death is vast
Silent on cold dark nights

To die is easy, to live is hard
I will die a Siebert
I will be eternal in my Father's name
That is my crime
and it will **** me

It killed me then
It just didn't take the body

#love #suicide #depression #death #family #brother #bpd #jew #jewish #pstd

Hayley Siebert Dec 2016

Daughter of Noah

God did not intend you to die
He intended you to live

For all the abuses
For all the suffering
For each and every wound
God gave you a gift

This weaponry, this arsenal, this armour
Of talents, arts, voice
is a fire to the demons in your head

Purge the monsters
Purify them with your fire
God is always with you
God did not let you suffer in vain
He did so, so, you may learn
learn to survive, to fight, to win

Survival is in your family
It is in your *blood
Your Mother, Grandfathers
Great Grandparents

You are of the land of the dragon
You are of the land of God
Your blood of warriors Celtic born
Your blood is of Moses and Abraham

Your blood will pass onto your daughter
In your womb, lies the power of creation
The gift of life, to forge a soul

In your womb is the blood of Ariel
In your womb is the blood of Cymru
God did not intend you to die
He intended you to live
To live, to survive, to fight
Is in your *blood

#illness #god #religion #mental #blood #family #jew #jewish #wales #welsh

Hayley Siebert Dec 2016

Distressed as Saul

Hark! These creatures of catacombs
Furrows and the weeping ribbons
Forsooth great beasts took a turn here
When the mind accustoms itself to violence
It bestows it….broken as the temple falling
The sword by Israel's cry!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Traumatic as hymens torn
By hands unclean by demons born
The ***** twas not consenting forlorn
Too many nights passing to the dawn

Allow when Yosef comes, his predator expression
For my milk drop flesh, he claims doth conquer
The chains of slavery he forged by Irish blood
Born from the veil of wedlock
Out of sullen sin, between husband and mistress
He took to which he hath none
Purple hues adorn the shoulder
Bare before the creases of blood
These years could not tamper the memories

So in night shade, among the ghouls
There is a hovering silver sheen
Groped by the tiny digits
I shall be its sheaf
Psychosis the cascade of reality
The distortion of time and space
An all hallows eve, the sabbath of subconscious monsters
The manic and depressive are the swinging of the pendulum
And the ****** of thy hand is the dawn of God
I fall, the intoxicating pearls down my throat
Reek in my blood, Jewish blood, Welsh blood, tainted blood
The dizzy fortitude to collapse
Will alter the reality and silence the darkness
Of faces disfigured, in death they have no stance
Thus my torment hath come to end
I give way, the sweep of the fall
Fall onto my sword…
Away from the worlds of disturb content
Away from the sacred flesh scarred and mangled
Away from the deep cavern of endless thought
To God and to my ancestors, who saw with no eyes fit to see
But see nethertheless my frail state of a tipping scale
I fall onto my sword, distressed as Saul

#suicide #self #depression #illness #religion #mental #jew #jewish #saul #torrah

JGuberman Nov 2016

Byten, July 25, 1942/Shabbes Nachamu 11 Av 5702 (Isaiah 40:1-26)

The deaf blacksmith
Rendered in silent iron the wagon wheels
that they now walked behind
with ever larger ruts
that would eventually hold the whole village.
It’s the shabbes of comfort
When “the rugged shall be made level,
And the rough places a plain;….and all flesh shall see it together….”
He never heard the one that hit him
Hearing wouldn’t have helped they say,
“all the flesh shall see it together”
And all did that hot day, thick with mosquitoes and flies
And a pestilence of lead.
The winds blow through the fallow fields
Tearing at the roots of the waving grass
Though grass is stronger than the winds that whip it
And the many blades hold firm defiantly
We shall not be moved again!
*“all flesh is grass
And all the goodliness thereof is
As the flower of the field;
The grass withereth, the flower fadeth;
Because the breath of the Lord bloweth upon it---
Surely the people is grass.”

Byten was a town in what is now Belarus where family members were martyred during WWII. The deaf blacksmith was my great-grandfather.

#jewish #wwii #holocaust #martyrdom

Emmett Brown Oct 2016

My crazy dog

On the bottom of the shoe
Overlooking all the poo

A weird figure shows on up
All this poo is from my pup

I look over to him
He looks back at me

This dog is crazy coming from me
His eyes are red with evil stares

Reminds of the scary scares
I walk away from the dog

He chases after me in the fog
I trip on a log

I'm dead

The End

#death #crazy #dog #jewish #logs #vans

JGuberman Sep 2016

Yahrzeit

To see the light of memory
reduced
to but a wisp of smoke
to hear the burning candle
at the end of its wick
extinguish itself in a hiss,
is to experience for but a moment
ancient death performing its work anew.

"I cannot see, I cannot see!"
says the soul of its diminishing
diminished light.
"Illuminate me, O God,
make me to shine like the light
in a child's eyes,
allow me to walk again
along the edge of creeping darkness,
like a carefree youth
no longer afraid of the dark.
But I'm still afraid, Oh so afraid
that if you close my eyes this once
I will not return to burn with sight again
for the fire that now fades
and hisses
is but ancient death performing its work
anew
rendering a disserve to my being
by reducing the light of memory
in the hearts of each succeeding generation."

Published in a different format in RESPONSE XVI:4 (Winter 1990), p. 81
Yahrzeit is the anniversary of a family member's death at which time a "yahrzeit candle" is lit which burns 24 hours during the annual yahrzeit period.

#life #death #dark #light #memory #candle #work #jewish #yahrzeit

JGuberman Sep 2016

Gallery

I saw a portrait of Uri Zvi Greenberg,
it showed an older man
perhaps twice my age,
with no recognizable poetic traits in his face,
perhaps had they shown a young man
it would've been different?

I saw a portrait of Miklos Radnoti
he died as a young man,
with no recognizable poetic traits in his face,
and I have nearly lived his full life,
perhaps if they had shown a child
it would've been different?

I saw a portrait of Anne Frank
whom all the world knows.
I am twice her age,
it's not different
it's worse
peace comes regardless of age
it begins for the living
at the expense of the dead.

I saw a portrait from when I was a child,
like the opening lines of
the epic poem I am becoming,
I will not be a national treasure
like the Kalevala
or Shahnameh
I will be immortalized
like all the unnamed citizens
of Uruk
remembered merely because they lived there,
whose names are unknown
like those
who did not leave a diary,
or a notebook of poems,
and like sheep to the slaughter
did not live to my time to read them.

This poem was published in EUROPEAN JUDAISM (UK) 34:2 (Autumn 2001), p. 153.
U.Z. Greenberg (1894-1981) was an Israeli poet born in what is now Ukraine. His views were rightwing and he was associated with the party of Menahem Begin. He wrote powerful and sometimes lurid poems about the Holocaust.

Miklos Radnoti (1909-1944) a martyred Hungarian Jewish poet.

Anne Frank (1929-1945) young Jewish diarist martyred at Bergen Belsen and made famous posthumously with the publication of her wartime diary.

Kalevala-Finnish national epic.
Shahnameh- Persian "Book of Kings" an Iranian national epic by Firdawsi (c. CE 935-1020/26).

Uruk-setting of the Epic of Gilgamesh

last four lines all refer to the writings of Anne Frank (diary), Radnoti (notebook of poems) and "like sheep..." is a line taken from Greenberg's poem TO GOD IN EUROPE, part III No Other Instances.

#living #dead #treasure #young #old #child #epic #jewish