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Poems On / About LOSS  8/2/2015 11:36:57 PM
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Best Poems About / On LOSS
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Perpetual Loss

Being Jewish means to sense
perpetually the loss
of a utopia in past tense
that, like an albatross,
hangs round Jews’ necks like dreams
of future futile gains,
imaginary as the schemes
to break all present chains.

Inspired by a line in the play “Photograph 51” by Anna Ziegler, currently showing at the FDountain Theater in LA, starring Aria Alpert as Rosalind Franklin, who at King’s College, London was the first person to demonstrate by means of Xray crystallography the double helix structure of DNA, inspiring the paper of James Watson and Francis Crick that on them the Nobel Prize together with Maurice Wilkins, Franklin’s colleague. Franklin has a Jewish friend, Caspar, who works at Yale and in the play declares: “Being Jewish means perpetual loss.”

gershon hepner

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Once I was in basement, was detained by mistake and the doubts of beard, politics and accents.
All were wrong but happened;
Like earthquake of Arg-e-Bam. Then I wrote a poem in Persian on paper smuggled by a friend
I wrote down part of the facts.
Regardless of pencil I wrote there; this is it “Rock and I are the same. Grounded we fell rolled.”
At a beach where you swim
When walking on the dune each step can tell you of books lost, and my notes and things wrong.
Worst is loss; steals thought.
Killing or being killed, spending what we have, last penny, can and will be healed in some way.
Loss never; it’s the wound.
Nassy Fesharaki

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Temple Lusts

“Temper loss is not the end
For a man’s lust.”

I had a friend once
who claimed;
he looked forward

to his future
temple loss;

in hopes of freedom
from compulsive emotions.

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Quotation from ‘Urge Survives The Organ’ by RM.Shanmugam Chettiar.
Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

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A Letter To My Father I Call Gestish, Happy Father's Day!

Growing up, I remember the many fights and positioning that took place in our household. However, those altercations and challenges are the cement that helped build the pillars of my life today. Somehow through our difficulties, we both came to see that we were very much alike. Free spirited, creative, life’s biggest cheerleaders and risk takers. In my teens, I thought you were crazy and needed some serious medical intervention. Then in my twenties, I came to meet a different father who believed in me more so than myself. Of course, I felt you were losing your toughness and I did not know how to deal with your softness.

Then came your health scare and I remember going to the Chapel in the hospital. Though I was there to pray; I couldn’t pray or even ask for anything. Instead, I sat there and thought about the many missed opportunities and vowed to work harder if you were to make it. However difficult, abate, you showed us the face of courage, possibilities, positivity, class and humility. Then in my thirties we all experienced life’s biggest blow, a loss of child/sibling. I remember then, I was lost again because I wanted to see that strong, disciplined, emotionally frugal father of mine. Instead, I saw a man in pain, defeated and a man on his knee. I remember we were all lost.

Now in my forties, you became more human. What I did not see then was that you were just like me but with a lot more birthdays and a different hair color. Today, I know better. Getisheye, know with certainty that I use your life’s canvas as my life’s foundation. I live with less fear and child like personality just like you. Because of you, my life’s canvas is painted with kindness, humility, loyalty, hard work, friendship, laughter, care, endurance and perseverance. Today, our relationship is colorful and fluid.

Thank you Getisheye for all that you’ve taught us. Through your health scare, I have come to view life as a gift. Through our loss you taught me to celebrate small victories. Through your commitment to excellence; I have come to demand nothing less. Thanks for the sewing classes though I hated it then who knew but you; today, I love nothing more than creating my own outfit. Thanks for my typing class. However, I still use four fingers to type. Thanks for trusting me with my decisions even though you don’t always agree with them. Thanks for the freedom to make them regardless of their outcome. Thank you for my voice! You are truly my language and my country.
Emu Getachew

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Poems On / About LOSS