"baruch" poems
Fay stood next
to Baruch
in the Square
have a ride
if you like
on my new
blue scooter
he had said
so she did
with one foot
placed firm on
the scooter
the other
pushed away
the hard ground
moving on
the scooter
hands gripping
the rubber
handle bars
and she sensed
air in her
face and hair
moving fast
Baruch left
behind her
in the Square
he thinking
how happy
now she was
moving on
over ground
other kids
shouting out
faster Fay
and she did
as if all
pent up fears
had gone bang
and had then
disappeared
get off that
Jew's scooter
her father
shouted out
and she turned
and the fears
all returned
she got off
the scooter
handed it
to Baruch
all joy gone
happiness
had dissolved
her father
gripped her hand
hauled her off
looking back
at Baruch
hatefully
but Baruch
merely smiled
his contempt
his green eyes
or hazel
as some said
shooting off
those arrows
pretendingly
in the ****
of Fay's strict
catholic
father but
to Fay he
blew to her
from his palm
the unseen
pink kisses
of concern
then she'd gone
up the stairs
to her fate
a lecture
against Jews
murderers
of Jesus
he will say
or worst still
punishment
a beating
to enforce
his strict will.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
Yehudit stood
by the window
of the bedroom
looking out
at the garden below
Baruch lay
on the bed
taking in
her figure
standing there
after having
made love
in his bed
I like your apple orchard
she said
the blossom
makes it
so beautiful
not as beautiful
as you
he said
taking in
her nakedness
the sunlight touching
her profile
she smiled
the blossom
is more beautiful
than I am
she said
come back to bed
he said
she turned
and walked back
to the bed
and lay beside him
I’ll have to go soon
she said
your mother
will be returning
from her work soon
he watched her eyes
the flush
about her skin
I know
he said
guess we best
get dressed
and I’ll walk you
back home
she kissed him
and he caressed her
and she ran a hand
along his thigh
shame we have to go
she said
he kissed her
and said
can't risk being here
when Mother returns
or she'll put
2 +2 and come up
with 5
Yehudit sighed
and moved off
the bed
and began to dress
into her underclothes
and orange flower
patterned dress
he got up
and began to get dressed
looking at her nakedness
disappear into clothes
the memory
of their love making
fresh in his mind
her apple scent
her body supple
her peasant look
her simplicity
the kissing
the holding
the bodies interacting
ready?
he asked
she nodded
and they went down
the stairs
and out the back door
and along the path
by the apple orchard
and out the back gate
into the woods
there was birdsong
and a warm air
and smell of the farm
beyond the woods
back to work tomorrow
she said
my half day
spent making love
they kissed
and he walked her
through the woods
to her house
along the small road
at the edge of the field
by the farmed land
he holding her
peasant
warm hand.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Rapping is the sound of words
The truth comes out when it happens
I can rap around my friends and cannot rap around my parents
I do not want to hurt them
I pray to god they can help me be a better artist everyday
Thank You,
Baruch Hashem
Rythm & Poetry
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
It was Shlomit
who fell from the seesaw
in the park
and grazed her knee
and elbow
Baruch who
was on the other end
jumped off
and helped her up
trying to console her
patting her
on the back
as she leaned over
dabbing at
her bloodied knee
and crying said
look at the hole
in my jumper
o my God
Mum’s going to **** me
o look at my knee
Baruch took her
to the old dame
who took shelter
in the first aid place
and sorted out
minor injuries
there there
the old dame said
we’ll soon put that right
and took Shlomit in
and sat her on one
of the chairs
and got out
her first aid box
and cleaned off
the dirt and wound
with some yellow stuff
which made Shlomit
cringe and cry
o my my
said the old dame
its hurts
but it cleans out
the baddies
Baruch watched helpless
taking in
the lopsided
hair band
on Shlomit’s head
the blood red
jumper sleeve
the grazed knee
the old dame
wiping it clean
Shlomit in tears
looking up at him
her glasses crooked
o my God
what will Daddy say?
she uttered
o he’ll understand
the old dame said
don’t think he will
Baruch thought
he isn’t that type
of guy
leather her
most probably
he mused
watching the old dame’s fingers
putting on white lint
and placing pink plasters
over the top
to keep it on
now the elbow
the dame said
pulling up
Shlomit’s jumper sleeve
the elbow was badly grazed
the hole of the jumper
stuck to the wound
take hold
of her hand
Sonny
the old dame said
this might hurt
so Baruch took hold
of Shlomit’s hand
and watched
as the old dame
cleaned up
the elbow
with the yellow liquid
and cotton wool
Shlomit’s small hand
grabbed his own
the fingers
with bitten nails
clung tight to his own
he noticed she swung
her legs back and forth
under the chair
the plastered knee
came in and out
of sight
the window brought in
and allowed to fall
upon her knees
the bright morning light.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
I derive from arriving on time
Slime time live was the time of my life
The law of the land was a handful of sand
A snowman grayer than white but still alright
I’m from liquid firepower
Super effective critical hit
Killing members of my brother’s mouth
Killing myself
when my best friend moved south
I’m from AP tests and honors society
In a society that does not honor AP tests
imagine my anxiety
I’m from accidents happen
just when you think they aren’t gonna happen
I’m not from the football field
I’m not from the church
I’m not from a world concealed
because of these answers I search
I’m from baruch atah adonai
Elohaynu melech ha’alom
Nine fires at night and crossless walls
Perfect circle spectacles and
never using public stalls
I’m from the school of thought
that thinks about school
Dreaming of the western bay
You ask where I’m from?
I’m from every single yesterday
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 4:16 AM UTC
Milka liked it
when Baruch
took her hand
and they walked
to bridge over the river
and talked
or went to see
the peacocks along
the other lane
with the tall trees.
Her brothers knew now,
but said nothing,
being Baruch's friend's,
they took it
he'd lost hold
of his senses.
She smiled
when one said this.
She didn't say
about the kiss.
Just the one,
that one time,
last time,
unexpectedly.
She liked
that her mother
didn't object
when Baruch came
to pick her up;
her look said it:
no hanky-panky,
you're still 14
even if he's 16,
her gaze said all that,
she assumed
as Baruch nodded his head
when he came
and her mother smiled.
Milka liked it
when her hand
felt his, his soft flesh
on hers, his thumb rubbing
the back of her hand
in slow movement.
He talked
of the latest Elvis film
or LP he'd bought
(promised to take her
to the cinema to see
or his home to hear
the new LP
(she'd have to see).
She talked
of her brothers' teasing
or the girls at school
who suggested she did
such and such
(even though she knew
she'd never) trying to be
with it or clever.
She liked watching
the river flow
beneath the bridge
as they stood and talked,
their hands holding,
their bodies near,
the summer sun above.
Was this for real?
Was this love?
She liked it
when they watched
the peacocks strutting,
their calls, their tails
and feathers,
and Baruch near,
his closeness warming,
his hand keeping her close,
hip to hip, her body alive
to every touch.
But no hanky-panky,
at least not so far,
not beyond
the limits set,
least not, not yet.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Chana, having made love
with young Baruch, went
to get more wine. Did she
need to get another? She
thought, she was old enough
to be his mother. The LP of
Bruckner he had brought
still played on the hifi; she
preferred Mahler’s fifth.
The kitchen light had a
mellow glow. She poured
more wine into the two
glasses and returned to
the bed. He was laid there
like some young prince,
proud and youthful, head
full of ideas, morals gone
to the wind, seemed happy
to have had her and sinned.
She put down the glasses
and climbed into bed. Him
and his Marxism, she thought
as he talked of Das Kapital.
She placed her hand on his
pecker, life enough yet,
stirred, moved. She could
smell the *** in him; the stir
of a young stallion. Her long
ago husband was never like
this even in his youth; she
was well rid of him, him and
those airhostesses, those
whom he said he had quite oft
and where. She smiled at young
Buruch lying there wine in hand
talking of a revolution that would
never come, his pecker stirring,
his words becoming slurred with
the taking of wine. That first time
he had her on the sofa; oh, that
took her back some. He drained
his glass, put on the side. He was
young enough to be her son, she
mused, watching him stir and
prepare, her young stallion with
hazel eyes and dark brown hair.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
O'Brien said
the whole girl thing
was a falsity
why waste your time
on them?
he'd told Baruch
yes why?
Sutcliffe said
in an echo
as they walked home
from school
along
the New Kent Road
holding a cigarette
to one side
a thin line
of smoke
coming
from his mouth
as she spoke
Baruch said nothing
about Fay
he just listened
thinking of her
as they walked along
his hands
in his pockets
his scuffed shoes
treading the pavement
his eyes looking
at Sutcliffe
at his blonde hair
and bright blue eyes
and O'Brien
with his shock
of brown hair
and his crafty eyes
I've yet to meet a girl
worth losing sleep over
he said
not a wink of sleep
Sutcliffe added
Baruch had seen Fay
the day before
on the way home
by the church
on the corner
of Meadow Row
she in her catholic
school uniform
clutching her satchel
her bright eyes on him
her fair hair
brightened
by the afternoon sun
how they had walked together
up the Row
she talking of the nuns
at the school
about the whole Latin thing
about the long list
of saints she had
to remember
he took in
her anxiety
her paleness of skin
he told her
of the pottery teacher
who ridiculed his pots
and how he did it
in front of the class
holding up the ***
and running it down
not that I care a toss
Benedict said
least not
about the ***
and they crossed
Rockingham Street
and up the slope
and there they waited
gazing at each other
the silence
like thin silk
he wanted to kiss her
but not doing so
she wondered
if she could get
nearer to him
maybe much closer
but feared her father
might hear of it
and he didn't like Baruch
didn't like the Jew boy
keep yourself free
of them
O'Brien said
girls cling to you
like leeches
and ****
the being
out of you
with their petty wants
yes wants and wants
Sutcliffe echoed
Baruch paused
by the hairdresser shop
by the crossing
opposite Meadow Row
best get home
Baruch said
yes me too
said Sutcliffe
hope my cousin's gone home
she's been with us
for weeks now
and always
in the bathroom
and wandering the house
in her almost
see through night dress
sure sure
O'Brien said
bet you hate that
and he laughed
and Sutcliffe walked off
home the cigarette
behind his back
held
in his inky fingers
see you around
O'Brien said
and wandered on
up the road
and Baruch
saw him off
and crossed the road
and walked down
Meadow Row
thinking of Fay
and that moment
he almost kiss her
how they stood
gazing at each other
he gazing
at her fine beauty
her figure
and she fearing
her father
would know
and the nuns
at the school
always writing to him
about her
and what she does
and does not
and she seeing
Baruch there
feeling her heart beat
and sensed feeling hot.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
Milka followed Baruch
along the road
to his parent's house
and up the stairs
to his bedroom
she looking about her
as she climbed
won't your parent’s
be home?
she asked
no they're at work
he said
my mother until
half two
Milka nodded
and thought
of the bewilderment
if they came home
too soon
and what if they did?
they came to the landing
and he showed her
the single bed
by the wall
next to another
by the window
whose bed is that?
she asked
my brother's
Baruch said
he's away
oh
she said looking
at the single bed
by the wall
with the blue bed cover
well?
he said
what do you think?
she looked at the bed
and then at Baruch
it's a bit narrow
she said
it'll be ok
he said
unless you don't want to
he said
she bit her lip
are you sure
no one
will be back early?
sure as sure
he said
he took in
her bright eyes
the hair
shoulder length
and well groomed
the yellow
tight fitting top
and blue jeans
she looked by him
at the window
can anyone see us?
he looked out
the window
I’ll close the curtains
he said
she looked at him there
eyes wide open
and alert
his black jeans
and white shirt
you don't have to
he said
just thought
that after last time
in the barn
it would be better here
she nodded
that was a bit
uncomfortable
she said smiling
hay and straw
in my *******
when I got home
he smiled
yes and that mouse
that ran over
my backside
she laughed
and relaxed
and I screamed
she said
he nodded
and looked at her
standing there
by the bed
we don't have to
if you'd rather not
he said
she looked at him
and said
I want to
it's just the anxiety
that your parents
will come home
and catch us
he stroked her hair
they won't
he said
I'd not risk it
if I thought
they'd be home early
she sat on the bed
and he sat next to her
she kicked off her shoes
and he did so too
she looked at him again
then stood up
and unzipped her jeans
and took them off
and laid them
on the other bed
he did like wise
she took off the top
over her head
and placed it on top
of her jeans
he took off his shirt
and put it on top
of his jeans
then she unclipped
her bra
and threw it
to the other bed
he stood there
gazing at her
small mounds
the brownish dugs
she removed
her pink *******
and flicked them
to the bed
by the window
where they rested
by the windowsill
he took off his briefs
and threw them over
by his jeans
she breathed out
deeply and slowly
he put a hand
on right breast
felt the softness
ran his fingers
over the dug
she smiled
and touched his pecker
then she lay down
on the bed
and he lay beside her
his hand touching
her thigh
and she saw
the sunlight
through
the uncurtained window
in the bright
midday sky.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
Doronit would spit fire
and Baruch knew it
he'd had it before
that time she'd gave him
the hard time because
he'd sat watching
some dame
in a caravan opposite
hanging out washing
on a make shift line
fancy her do you?
Doronit said
why don't you go over
and chat her up
but Baruch told her
he wasn't interested
and that he was just
observing the washing
hanging process
looking at her smalls
I suppose?
she said
no he said he hadn't
but he had been looking
at the fine movement
of the dame's ****
but he never told
Doronit that
yes she'd spit fire
she'd lay the words on him
and that time
she saw this
other dame's name
in his note book
and when he came home
for lunch
she said
who's this then?
you having it off
with her?
Baruch told her
it was some dame
he was watching at work
all about
security and such
and she began
throwing stuff at him
shoes coat hangers knives
forks and spoons
whatever she could lay
her hands on and some
of it came down the stairs
like missiles
and he went up
and pinned her down
on the bed to calm her
and she relaxed
and said
was that all? no affair?
no
he said
no affair
nothing
just security
at work
and she smiled
and kissed him
and that was that
all over
fire spat and done
but this time
the fire
would be for real
and Baruch knew it
and he watched her go
about her work that day
hoovering dusting
cleaning the floor
and he waved goodbye
at the door
and never looked back
all over
no more fire
no more
Doronit had done it
for the last time
and he recalled her
that last moment
she with her cigarette smoking
her hair tied back
her eyes full
of dull fires
burning embers
and that is all
looking back
he remembers.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
Nima splashed water from one
of the fountains in Trafalgar Square
over Baruch. Laughing she did
it again, but he side-stepped, like
one out of rain, hands wide as if
to bless. He'd met her a few moments
before; by Nelson's Column, she’d
written from her hospital bed, drug
taking recovering (so said), cold
turkey or whatever she'd scribed.
Finishing the ablutions, she walked
on, he followed, stepping beside
her, catching her in profile, taking
in her cropped hair, brown, washed
and washed. She talked of the nursing
staff, who talked of her behind her
back, some at least, she added, chat
of the *** cupboard we used, that
time you came, she said, laughing,
walking out of the Square, along by
the gallery, her voice too loud, he
thought, but sounded out by the
traffic passing. She was clothed in
a blue dress, too short, he thought,
seeing her thighs, sans stockings or
tights, sandaled feet. They went into
Leicester Square, she talking of one
of the quacks she'd seen, head case,
foreign, fancies himself, she added.
Baruch, spied the billboards, new
films, merchandise, drinks, cigarettes,
lowering his eyes, watching her sway
her hips and **** hands swinging,
gesturing. She stopped by a bench
and sat down, he did likewise, ears
catching her words, holding them in
his mind, something about them being
jealous of my sexuality she added,
giving Baruch the eye, maybe thinking
me a ***** a druggie slapper, she
said laughing, her hand rubbing against
the top of his, he sensing skin on skin,
remembering, the quickie in the side
room, cupboard size, just off the ward.
He talked of his boring job, the mind
numbing labours, the Coltrane jazz LP,
played on and on, he said, eyes closed.
She lay her head on his shoulder, he felt,
smelt the combination of expensive scent
and hospital smell (soaps or disinfectants),
felt her fingers rubbing his. She took out
a cigarette, offered him one, he took and
she lit up with red plastic lighter. Inhaled,
exhaled, inhaled, silence, her hand wrestled
with his, watching smoke rise, upwards,
twirling, in the hot summer spread skies.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Dalya met Baruch in Oslo,
a small cafe in a back street;
he was eating a cream cake
and coffee. She was fuming
over the Yank ***** that she
shared a tent with back at
base camp. It’s like sharing
with a scented skunk, she said.
Baruch listened, the fiery girl
sat opposite him, stirred her
latte, spat out words. Baruch
was halfway through the Gulag
book, the Solzhenitsyn eye
opener on the labour camps
of Russia. Dalya’s gripe seemed
pretty shallow; her language
left little to the imagination,
rough words, hard chipped,
chiselled out of rock sort of thing,
he thought, watching her mouth
move the words. Always about
the men she’s had, Dalya said,
as if I cared a monkey’s. Baruch
forked in more cake, fingered
off cream from his upper lip
and licked. They’d picked up
the American in Hamburg,
squeezed her into the overland
truck with the others. And oh,
yes, where she's been, Dalya said,
she’s been under the Pope’s
armpit, no doubt. She sipped
the latte, stared at Baruch, her
eyes dark blue, her lips thin, her
hair dark and curled. Maybe she
has, Baruch said, but what’s it to
you? I have to hear her jabbering
on in the tent night after night,
Dalya said, and me trying to get
to sleep. You can always swap with
me, he said, she can share with
the Aussie prat, who’s in with me.
She didn’t reply, but looked at her
latte, stirred with the plastic spoon.
And what would my brother say?
He’d tell the parents when we got
home. Baruch knew her brother
wouldn’t have minded, he was often
drinking and drunk till blinded.
Baruch had only suggested it in
jest, nothing really meant, but she
was preferable to the Aussie in his tent.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
At the back
of the brick bomb shelter
out of window view
on Saturday morning
before the matinée
Fay pulled up the hem
of her yellow dress
to show Baruch
the bruises
and red marks
her father had made
and all because
she didn't know
the Credo in Latin
all the way through
Baruch stared quickly
then she let down the hem
and said
don't tell no one
else I'll be for it
I won't say a word
he said
what the heck
is the Credo?
she looked at him frowning
you don't know?
no idea
he said
it's the I Believe prayer
and we Catholics
are supposed to know it
all through
but my father
wanted me to know it
all in Latin
but I couldn't get it all
and he got mad
and punished me
she said
I believe what?
he asked
I believe in God
the Father and so on
she said
I'm Jewish
Baruch said
we have our own prayers
not that I can recall
any of them
I do
she said
but Latin is hard
and the nuns say it
all the time in their prayers
and one nun hit me
with a ruler for mistakes
and said I was lazy
Baruch shrugged his shoulders
glad I aren't Catholic then
he said
now what about
the cinema matinée?
you coming?
my father said
I was to stay in
all weekend and practice
but my mother said
go and enjoy
so you are coming?
he asked
Fay nodded
yes guess I will
what about your old man?
he's away for the day
in Liverpool
and Mum said
she'd cover for me
good for her
he said
she pulled her dress tidy
and he pushed his fingers
through his dark brown hair
and they climbed over
the metal fence
surrounding the grass
and bomb shelter
and walked under
the railway bridge
and up the narrow road
behind the cinema
Baruch in his jeans
and red cowboy shirt
his silver looking
six shooter
tucked in his belt
walking beside her
looking out for bad guy
or Injuns
making sure
none scalped him or her
with their tomahawks
riding their invisible horses
across the bomb site
but none came
so he could relax
knowing she
and he
would be all right.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 7:41 AM UTC
Fay can see Baruch
from the window
of the living room
down on the area
of grass below
he is alone
sitting on one
of the bomb shelters
left over
from the war
she peers down at him
taking in
the cowboy hat
the silver looking
6 shooter toy gun
he seems
to be cleaning
she wishes
she was there
with him
but her father
says she is to stay in
and learn about the saints
and said he will
quiz her later
when he gets home
from work
about them to see
what she has learnt
the book
is on the chair
unopened
a bookmark
of St Benedict
lies on top
her mother
is in the kitchen
preparing soup
she knows her mother
would turn a blind eye
if she wanted
to go out
but they both know
that her father
would punish her
if he caught her out
especially
with Baruch
the Jew Boy
as her father calls him
the killer of Our Lord
he often says
although Baruch
denies being involved
in any way
she hopes Baruch
will look up
at her window
and see her
he has put his gun
in the holster hanging
from the belt
of his jeans
and holds a rifle
bought for him
for his birthday
he aims at the sky
and twirls around
pretending to shoot
pigeons flying
over head
she watches him
as he aims
at the coal wharf
where the coal carts
are being loaded
with coal
from chutes above
her father doesn't like
Baruch even though
Baruch always smiles
and says shalom
to him if he passing
her father on the stairs
of the flats
Baruch says
her father is a schmuck
but she doesn't know
what that means
but if Baruch said it
it must be a nice term
she thinks wiping away
the steamed up glass
where she has
breathed on it
she blows him a kiss
from the palm
of her thin hand
he doesn't know
but he'll get it
any how she knows
he aims at
the steam train
passing over
the bridge
by the Duke of Wellington pub
she smiles as he does
the kickback
from his rifle
the train passes
unharmed
the driver unaware
he has been fired upon
by a cowboy
from the grass
she eyes him
determinedly
wants him to look up
at her window
he lifts the rifle
to the sky again
and fires
then he pauses
lowers his rifle
and stares at her window
she waves
he looks
she waves frantically
he looks away
she bites a lip
he stares up
at her window
and beckons her down
with a wave
of his hand
she waves
crossing her hands
as if to say
can't come
he gazes
and then waves
and blows a kiss
from his hand
upwards
then he climbs down
from the bomb shelter
and disappears
the grass is empty
he has gone
the book of saints
lies on the chair
unopened
she goes
from the window
and picks it up
and opens
and begins to read
sensing
a good portion
of her 11 year old
girl's heart
bleeds.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
You rode bikes with Milka
to the bridge over the river
and stood looking down
at the flowing water
and talked
of the latest
Elvis Presley film
you’d seen
and she said that she
had wanted to see it
but her mother
had forbidden it
saying it was not
the type of film
for her age
then you talked
of the film you’d seen
while working
as a cinema projectionist
called Ben Hur
and the great
chariot races in it
she leaned close to you
as you talked
her hands
on the brick bridge
her hips pressing
gently against yours
she said she like it
when you came
to their farmhouse
and practised judo
with her brothers
and she could watch
and as she spoke
you studied her
her short fair hair
her large blue eyes
her delicate hands
the fingertips rubbing
against the bricks
of the bridge
the simple
green shift dress
she had on
and do you remember
that time you had them
both on the grass at once
in that karate fight?
she said excitedly
and you noticed
maybe
for the first time
her small firm bust
her figure
kind of huggable
although you hadn’t
hugged her
and she went on
about wanting to go
out with you
but her brothers
had said
Baruch won’t be
interested in you
he likes pretty girls
and you looked
at her eyes
as she spoke
how large they were
yet not unbeautiful
the orbs blue
portraying
wide worlds of you
and how old are you?
she asked
because they
keep saying
you’re too old
for me
16
you said
well
she said
I’m 14
so that isn’t
too old is it?
no
you said
seeing her eyes look
kind of watery
like small fish bowls
then she talked
of having seen you
in her dreams
and that in her dreams
you had kissed her
where did I kiss you?
you asked
on the lips of course
she said
no I meant
where abouts
was I when I kissed you?
o
she said blushing
in the barn
by the farmhouse
o I see
you said
never having been
there with her
only with her brothers
to do judo fights
she looked down
at the water
her eyes wide
and watery
a bird flew by
a bird song sounded
you leaned close to her
and kissed
her ear
through her
fair hair
and she looked at you
and you saw
new worlds
being born there
amongst the blue
Milka smiling
at an older you.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Miryam stands beside
two Arabs
and a camel
to be photographed.
Baruch presses
the shutter
of the camera
and the scene
is captured.
She pays
the two young men
and they walk off
with the camel
talking in
their own tongue.
She adjusts the bikini top.
Brauch puts away the camera.
Someone said
they expect to be paid,
she says.
Why not,
Baruch says,
watching her fiddle
with her bikini bottom,
her fine behind.
The Moroccan beach
is deserted, except
for the departing men
and camel further
along the beach.
She complains of the heat,
fingers her fuzzy hair,
stares at Baruch,
scratches her nose,
gives a Monroe pose,
hands on hips.
Take me like this,
she says.
He obliges.
He shutters the camera,
his eyes capture,
stores away her image,
in more ways
than one.
She talks of his drinking
into the small hours
in that Tangier's
night club
the guide took them to,
the belly dancer,
the snake charmer.
On the way back
to the camp
in the back
of the truck
with the others,
he remembers,
the kissing,
the embracing,
stirring his pecker.
She talks
of the early morning sky,
the smell of kebabs,
her feeling heady,
how she thought
he'd come to her tent.
Too tired,
he says,
besides I had to think
of your reputation.
Others would know.
I'm not a nun,
she says,
getting me stirred up
and then leaving to stew.
They walk hand in hand
along the beach,
the tide coming in,
touching their feet.
She talks of her parents,
medical professionals,
the boy she had a crush on
who went off
with someone else.
Baruch feels her pulsing
along the wrist,
his fingers holding there.
She talks of the other evening
when they came down there
to escape the noisy party
at the camp, the dancing,
the music, the wine.
He recalls the darkness,
the deep tuffs of grass
before the beach
was reached,
she and him,
kissing, embracing,
moonlight shining,
stars like scattered
sparkling diamonds.
No one missed us,
she says,
no one knew
about me and you.
He remembers
the echo of music
over head,
the gentle breeze,
distant voices,
her murmurings,
sound of sea
upon the beach,
both feeling
and touching,
giving pleasure,
each to each.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
Fay rubs her
rosary
between thumb
and finger
the black beads
holding prayers
but she thinks
they also
bring comfort
to her heart
usually
when her dad
loses it
and hits out
because she'd
forgotten
the Latin
of the Creed
mispronounced
Latin prayers
Baruch said
(the Jew boy
from downstairs)
your old man
doesn't know
the essence
of his faith
just the shell
of it all
Baruch said
God was one
for each and all
for the big
and the small
for the good
and the bad
for the wise
and the fool
her father
doesn't like
young Baruch
and forbids
her to talk
or see him
but she does
and meets him
secretly
for their talks
and their walks
in the park
at the old
cinema
Fay puts her
rosary
in the small
cloth pocket
of her dress
her fingers
leaving there
the small but
special prayer.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Liberally speaking when were gone this will be left.
Bull Moose
Baruch Hashem
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
Baruch ata adonai elohainu melech ha-olam she-hakol nee-yah bidvaro
Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, King of the universe through whose word all things are called into being.
God called, God Formed, God made--the three levels of man Soul, Spirit and body.
The prayer
From heart to heart
the words intoned
The spirit bridges
bears fast the soul
Awakens the moment
Grasps God's hand and cries
That deliverance fills
The healing consumes
That whole to whole
all bodies bound
Three in one
the spirits sound
The Soul true
The spirit awakened
The body whole
It is this O' God
That I seek and pray
Thy will be done
and done thy will.
Let hands guided
thoughts embraced
Hearts true
ways pure
Fill and gather
awaken and fulfill
My Star to shine
her brightest hew
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 4:25 PM UTC
And Baruch met Yehudit
by the pond
through the woodland
over a few fences
and through fields of cattle
avoiding cow pats
the morning air warm
and she waiting there
gazing at the pond
at the ducks
swimming there
birds flying across
the water's skin
the trees in full leaf
and she turned
when she heard him coming
thought you might not come
she said
she was wearing
an old green skirt
and white blouse
and her brown hair
was held in place
by a green band
I said I'd come
he said
yes I know
but people sometimes
let you down
she said
he stood beside her
at the water's edge
have a problem getting out?
he asked
a bit
she said
Mother insisted on me
doing this and that
and where
are you going anyway?
she asked after
I did the chores
to see Baruch I replied
oh him my mother said
she sat down
on the grass
and he sat next to her
she sat cross legged
he sat with his legs
out straight
looking
at his old shoes
not impressed by me then?
he said
not impressed
with any male
she said
except her sons
and even they
have to meet
her standards
nice legs
Baruch said
pointing to her thighs
showing
where her skirt rode up
she pulled it over
her knees
you don't help your case
she said smiling
she watched as a swan
landed on the water
and swam as if it
owned the pond
beautiful isn't it?
she said
almost like you
he said
I'm being serious
she said
so am I
he replied
she didn't stop
you coming though
he added
it was close
I had to promise
not to get into mischief
she said
o that's messed up
our day then
he said smiling
she looked at the trees
above her head
I think someone
told her
about seeing us here
she said
what just sitting here
watching ducks?
maybe not just sitting
she said looking at him
her eyes light blue
in the sunlight
had that
draw me in
and see Heaven look
about them
her lips parted
the tip of tongue
ah then
he said
maybe
she said
not impressed?
he said
no don't think she was
who saw us?
God knows
she said
probably does
but He won't tell
Baruch said
you shouldn't blaspheme
she said
he kissed her lips
as she spoke
the words being swallowed
and she closed her eyes
and lips kissed lips
and the swan flew off
the wings breaking
the still air
but they still kissed
as if in someone's Heaven
there.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
During boring
school lessons
he looks across
at Yehudit at her desk
takes in her brown hair
shoulder length
her profile
the eyes
nose
and how she sits
her large bust
her pen in hand
writing
and the teacher writing
on the board
boring stuff
time wasting scribbling
he watches her
her head bent
intent on the work
and thinks
of that time
by the pond
in the wood
he lying there
on the grass
sun above his head
and she came
and sat beside him
her peasant simplicity
overwhelming him
her show of leg
as she moved closer
her eyes large
and fire filled
and he told her
about the large butterfly
he'd seen in the woods
red and black
and white tips
and as he spoke
she touched his thigh
moved her hand along it
her fingers doing
that walking thing
on the jeans
and he proceeded
with the butterfly talk
as her fingers
walked deeper
and pressed and pressured
and he said
OK so the butterfly
isn't the most
intense subject
but hey
what are you doing
with the walking?
raising an interest
she said
and he said
two can play
at that game
and touched her leg
the soft flesh
moving his hand
just beneath
her skirt
warm and silky
and now once
you've written
that down
the teacher says
dragging Baruch
from his day dream
of memories
I'll talk about
the exports and imports
of the nation
and so he goes on
but Baruch
is only half listening
he studies Yehudit's hands
how they join together
as if in prayer
elbows on the desk
her chin resting
on the finger tips
and how her knees touch
issuing from the skirt
beneath the desk
and that time
he kissed her
under the full moon
and he howled afterwards
like some hound
and she laughed
and it echoed
around trees
and they kissed again
dismissing
the November rain.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
I know now there are artists
They find beauty in the simple things
They give me strength and power to continue
My fellow artist
Thank you,
Baruch Hashem
Get High
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 2:05 PM UTC
I love this number tis
thirtizzle
I am lucky
I am shame
I don't need a number blame.
Love the number thirteen
One + One = 3
You + Me = Baby
Thirtizzle
Snoop Dogg you r the Shizzle
Baruch Hashem
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
Baruch took the bus
to Kennington park
he wanted to see
a different place
away from the usual
the familiar sights
and people
he had brought
Fay along
having paid
her bus fare
and saying
they’d not be late
(she worrying
about her father
getting home from work
and finding
that she'd not
completed her
school essay
on The Ten Commandments)
and also
that she was with him
(whom her father
termed the Jew boy)
and he said it was better
if she never saw him
which was impossible
as they lived
in the same
block of flats
and went by
each other
on the stairs
but her mother knew
and said
to keep it quiet
and gave Fay a 1/-
for an ice cream
and drink of cola
they walked around
the park
she gazing
at the flowers
and butterflies
and birds
and he imagining
Injuns about
to pop out
of the bushes
or over
the small mound
(he called a hill)
on their mixed
coloured horses
and firing arrows
from their bows
or shooting
from rifles
and as he walked
he patted
the 6 shooter gun
in the holster
hanging
from the belt
of his jeans
( hidden
by his grey jacket)
she talked
of the nun at school
who slammed
a wooden ruler
on the palms
of girls
who didn't know
their catechism
all through
and the girl
who had her
legs slapped
for wearing
her school dress
too short
(she'd outgrown it
and her parents
couldn't afford another)
and he talked
of the cowboy film
he'd seen the other day
where the cowboy
wore his two guns
back to front
so that he had to
cross hands
to reach them
and still out drew
the bad guys
and which he wanted
to practice until
he had it just right
she listened to him quietly
taking in
his hazel eyes
the wavy hair
and that
bright eyed stare
and he listened to her
gazing at her
as he did so
at her fair hair
held in metal hair grips
her blue eyes
her pale complexion
that nervousness
she seemed to have
as if her father
was going to leap out
at her from a bush
and the bruise
on her upper arm
he'd seen
when she removed
her cardigan
having got hot
in the midday sun
and after walking around
for a while
and then sitting
looking at some
old guy feeding birds
with broken bread
they bought two ice creams
and bottles of cola
and she said
a grace in Latin
and he mumbled
some Hebrew prayer
and they sat licking
and eating
and drinking
and once she kissed
his cheek shyly
and said they'd
best get home
before her father did
and he saw her
with him
the upstairs Jew
(as her father
termed him)
and gave her
what for
as soon
as she went
timidly
through the front door.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
So I told her
Anne said
stomping around
on her crutches
like a demented Amazon
I told her
to go **** herself
Baruch blushed
at the word
his ears tingled
as if they’d been slapped
what did she say?
he asked
she said I’d go to Hell
for using words like that
Anne said
crutching herself down
by the children’s slide
and shooed away
the children playing there
I told her
I’d see her there
she added
Baruch scratched his head
what did Sister Paul
say to that?
she said
if she were my mother
she’d put me
over her knee
Anne laughed
and stomped over
to the children’s swing
where little Miss Sad
was sitting but who fled
as Anne approached
so you aren’t allowed
to go to the beach then?
Baruch asked
no Skinny Kid
or so she said
not to go
without a member of staff
he nodded his head
she pulled a face
he fiddled
with his fingers
she scratched
the stump of her leg
so what do we do?
he asked
his eyes caught
by the exposed
remaining part
of her leg
go to the beach
of course
she said
and stop gawking
at my stump
will you Kid
unless you want
to kiss it
he looked away
back at
the nursing home
behind them
what if she sees us?
she won’t
she couldn’t see a fly
on her nose
Anne retorted
but what if we get caught
down there?
he asked
think positive Kid
we won’t
they won’t miss us
no more than Sister Paul
misses ***
she said
Baruch hesitated
he hated getting
into trouble
felt uneasy
about the deed
shall I get
your wheelchair?
no then they will know
if you go wheeling that
across the grass
no we’ll walk out
the back gate stealthily
she said
he looked at her
and smiled
she stared back
towards the nursing home
he stared
where her stump hung
just beneath
the short skirt
then looked away quick
as she gazed at him
let’s go Kid
and she crutched herself
forward between
the avenue of trees
and he followed
looking back
at the windows
of the home
wondering how many
eyes were there
but she was going on
at a determined rate
not caring a fig
leaving all things
to some unknown god
or fate.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC