"schwartz" poems
There's a Tale of hare
named Bugs, wisecracking
Brooklyn speedster
who raced against
a Tortoise green.
Mercedes grey speeding
along, distancing
a schlepping spect,
a North Face jacket
on fruitcake's trek.
4000 fast
and sleek.
8 slow
and green.
Neither racers strangely
notice that child
born on dented stripes,
warning bumps
by side road way.
Is life a sacred race?
Marriage sacrament
a finishing face?
Dying memories trace
a cove and net
lacing U and who?
What's up Doc?
Eating healthy,
eating carrots?
I hear your voice
who's love does bare.
False Saffron leiter
extort and retorts weiter!
Komisch verwaltung
Schwartz holzteer
baiting babies to finish fear.
A cartoon film
skipping and tear
telling a child's tale
reel ending here.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
Sit.
Sit quietly, all alone.
Sit.
I want to sit here by this tree and think.
Nature is a beautiful thing, it helps you think and possibly dream.
Trees.
The trees are big like mountains, shading you from all things bad.
Trees.
Giving you hope that one day you could grow as strong as thee.
Flowers.
The flowers bring great beauty to this world.
The flowers show proof of wonderful things.
Me.
I sit here quietly, filled with admiration of the beautiful sky.
The clouds, like big puffs of white fluff floating across the blue sky.
If you stare too much, one day you’ll float away like the clouds some say.
Me?
I’m more than willing to float away like the clouds, seeing the beauty of everything.
Nature is beauty, and beauty is within.
I am nature and nature is I.
Erin Schwartz
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Please accept the attached the original, as yet not published work written by G. David Schwartz - the former president of Seedhouse, the online interfaith committee. Schwartz is the author of A Jewish
Appraisal of Dialogue and Midrash and Working Out Of The Book
Currently a volunteer at the Cincinnati J Meals on Wheels, Schwartz continues to write.
His latest book is Shards And Verse (2011, Publish America).
Names are not real people
G David Schwartz
[email protected]
Four For Glory
The Night Was Cut Off From Smiling
G David Schwartz
Oh, I will not die
The night was cut off from smiling
I sat there crying
Broken Wings Fly Upside Down
G David Schwartz
Whether red or brown
broken wings fly upside down
Do not touch the clown
I Hear The Firer Frying
G David Schwartz
I hear the frier frying
I hear the burgers burning
I also here the wind
Early out this morning
I Am Not Ashamed
G David Schwartz
I am not ashamed
I will do anything with you that you wish
except of course
eat some uncooked fish
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
In the morning, when it was raining,
Then the birds were hectic and loudy;
Through all the reign is fall's entertaining;
Their singing was erratic and full of disorder:
They did not remember the summer blue
Or the orange of June. They did not think at all
Of the great red and bursting ball
Of the kingly sun's terror and tempest, blazing,
Once the slanting rain threw over all
The colorless curtains of the ceaseless spontaneous fall.
Delmore Schwartz. 3/22/2016.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
I Am Not A Big Talker
G David Schwartz
I am not a big talker
I am always a mime
But if you wish to think
Just think you are mine
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
I Would Write A Love Story
G David Schwartz
I would write a love story
For the one whom I do love
It could be a disease
The way it danced on me
I want you so **** bad
Swiftly walk behind the slower
Not bad, not great but I guess that s just fate
I hear the vampires are getting hungry
I heard from someone else not themselves
Hybridism, entropy, philosophic information
I felt the shard of advancement
It spotted tea on my chest
Take this sound out and put it in some wisdom
making time from wisdom
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Night is best when I’m alone.
Like going to skip a rock or stone.
I love night best when I read,
During the day I can often mislead.
At night I can take time to read in detail.
Not getting distracted with things like texts or emails.
I often get lost within the book,
At characters lives I take a look.
A thousands lives which I have lived,
And thousands more I want to live.
And thousands more I want to live.
Erin Schwartz
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Picture In A Frame
Sun come up it was blue and gold.
Sun come up it was blue and gold.
Ever since I put your picture in a frame.
I loved you and I always will.
Your picture is just a memory
And something I’ll always have.
Life was great when you were around
The sun came up because of you.
But ever since you left
All I have is that,
Just your picture in a frame.
Erin Schwartz
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
(Song title taken from Jane Monheit’s catalogue,
by Dietz and Schwartz)
As they lay in bed,
Back to back,
Asleep with folded arms,
They wonder how it came to pass,
That lovers embrace changed to isolated solace,
How it ever became a reality to miss the heart,
The hearts that used to beat together,
In tune to the dance they danced at night,
When the lights were down,
And the only sound heard in town,
Was of blissful love making,
Against the sky; bleak, black and stark,
As they were dancing in the dark.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
Ezra Schwartz
Oct 1, 1997 — Nov 19, 2015
The dice of terror
Was cast that day
Young Ezra’s life
Was taken away
He went to Israel
For his gap year
To study at yeshiva
And volunteer
During a Mitzvah
To feed some soldiers
The van was ambushed
By Jew hating ogres
It mattered not
They knew not him
Or that his heart flowed
With Simchas Hachaim
To those you touched
You were a young Mensch
To all who knew you
Your loss is immense
Young Ezra Schwartz
I’ll never know you
For they took you away
For being a Jew
But what they don’t realize
You’re still here with us
You’re everywhere you smiled
And in everyone you touched
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
(Song title from “Wicked” by Stephen Schwartz)
I looked at him from across the room,
His eyes smiled,
A spark of tenderness hiding the gloom,
Number dialled.
Never felt such a feeling as this,
Scared by my mind,
What is this feeling of utter bliss?
True hearts are blind.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
You beat me, tortured me, and practically killed me.
Because of you I became someone I hated.
I was nothing to you but a girl to take out anger on.
You opened my scars, caused all of my tears, sliced open my skin and beat me to dust.
Depression, YOU are the reason for the scars on my thigh and wrist.
The burning scars on my heart and soul.
You are the reason I felt nothing, numb, broken and cold.
There were times where I just wanted to be left alone.
I sat there being consumed by my own thoughts.
Torn apart by the voices in my head telling me to give up.
Those voices weren’t my own, they were only my imagination.
Depression, if you were able to speak you could be those voices.
You came to life in my head and that was hurting me.
Not because I wanted to give up but because you and everyone who hurt me wanted that from me.
But depression, just like my bullies you couldn’t win.
I ended up the winner and defeated you.
You are no longer the destruction within me.
You are now just a faint memory of what was once within.
Erin Schwartz
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
In philosophies both old and new
Courage, virtue supreme
Lennon dared to Imagine Peace
Like Dr King's sweet dream
They rouse our Hearts to throb, rebel
Against the petty rule
Against incriminated flag
Drilled in to brains from school
There's a bastille in London town
For men who tell the truth
Poor Schwartz, too, metaphorically
Thrown cold from a roof
Whilst Chelsea, dearest warrior
Sage soldier of the heart
Knows the fight with loudest might
Is that which peace impart
Testament to tyrants sham
That reality in cage
But who will win not those in sin
Her vision will light an age
Justice is a common tongue
A democrat it prevails
Protects the name of human rights
Which quest for war assails
It must be said that truths not dead
Despite rule of tyrants lore
The real vignette of history
Lit 1984
And like Olympic baton
The torch of truth aflame
Cross aeons, borders, mother tongues
We arrive at peace the same
A spark of love in just one heart
Inspires divine mimicry
Inspires mass to bear love aloft
**** Devils causistry
Rolling news is sure a ruse
To sully critical thought
Education Tonys soundbite
But for ignorance he fought
History is oil against toil
Lies churn in the midst
But those who defy and see the sky
Bond pawns in rancorous trust
To overthrow the petty sham
And start the world anew
Pangea can't be ruled from a tower
Ivory and blue
When you start to think with Heart
Put past to trust in what men said
The rule of courage inaugurate
All hearts be painted red
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
By Circumstances Fed
Which divide attention
Among the living and the dead,
Under the blooms of the blossoming sun,
The gaze which is a tower towers
Day and night, hour by hour,
Critical of all and of one,
Dissatisfied with every flower
With all that's been done or undone,
Converting every feature
Into its own and unknown nature;
So, once in the drugstore,
Amid all the poppy, salve and ointment,
I suddenly saw, estranged there,
Beyond all disappointment,
My own face in the mirror.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:18 AM UTC