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Poems By Poet Paul Hartal  7/25/2014 1:15:40 PM
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  Best Poems From
  PAUL HARTAL
 
 

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  1.     

Women Change, But Men Don't?

"I don't see your point", she said.

"Well, my point is that ever since
the sexual revolution of the 1960s
women have changed substantially."

"And men? "

"Men have not changed", he said.

"Nonsense. This is an absurd
blanket theory", she protested.

"Not at all.
Without stereotypical generalizations
science collapses."

"But generalizations filter reality
are corrupt perceptions", she said.

" Generalizations are indispensable
to the scientific method", he said.

"However, science does not
represent the ultimate authority
of truth", she said.
 
Paul Hartal
   
 

   
   
 

  2.     

Absurd Breast Cancer Prevention

“Surgical removal of the breasts before any sign
of cancer is one way to significantly lower the risk.”
Journal of Clinical Oncology, March 15,2005

'Changing Your Lifestyle Can Change Your Genes...
genes are not your destiny', Dean Ornish, M.D.,
Newsweek, June 17,2008


She is scared to death, so what is the answer?
Tell me doctor, please, advise her while she is healthy,
For she is statistically at a high risk of becoming ill
And afraid to contract the dreadful breast cancer.

Cut her healthy breasts, remove all hale tissue,
The good surgeon tells her, with assurance insists
That the operation solves the problem, reduces the risk
To zero, and so cancer is no longer the issue.

But the injudicious medical counsel fails to inform her
That as a life style scourge cancer can be prevented better,
And anyway, removing the breasts does not really matter
Because the disease may strike the body elsewhere.

This brutal cure is absurd, like the act of one afraid of steps,
A person at a high risk of fractures who avoids walking
And in a Kafkaesque way opts to amputate the limbs
In order to prevent the breaking of the legs.
 
Paul Hartal
   
 

   
   
 

  3.     

Dove of Peace

Peace is more
than the absence of war,
more than
the enforced decorum
of a shaky truce,
enveloped in the ovum
of agony and abuse,
of no relief,
the grim tar
of a bloody past burning,
a scorching scar
of woes and grief.

Peace is more
than the absence of war,
the phoenix rising
from the ruins
of Stalingrad and Berlin.

Peace is more than
the terrible silence
of the ashes of Hiroshima
and Auschwitz.

For, real peace rests
in all nations just,
in accord and friendship,
mutual respect and trust.

Real peace means
the extended hand
of all faiths in amity
in every land, and
mothers breastfeeding
their babies in serenity.

For, peace is more
than the absence of war.

Real peace means
the bliss of building
new habitats and cities,
where concrete shelters
are needless,
where shaky shields
are useless.

Real peace means
tranquil fields
where farmers sing, planting
rice, sowing seeds of soy
and wheat and rye in joy
in the pristine morning.

For peace is more
than the absence of war.

My soul
all the days
yearns for peace,
soaring upwards
in the rays
of the dawn sun,
longing for
Noah's rainbow.

Now look! The rivers
placidly flow.
And above the mists
of first lights, graced
with diamond dews,
a blue dove flies
beyond the peak
with olive leaves
in her beak.

In a war-torn world
She carries on her wings
to every country and nation
the blessed harmonies
of concert and cooperation.

The Dove of Peace:
She offers
to all the peoples
of the world
the goodwill of man,
the promise of halcyon days,
true concord, the rebirth
of the dream of unity
in today's
discordant Earth.

For, peace is more
than the absence of war.

But if our will prevails,
Isaiah's vision will come true:

"And they shall beat
their swords
into ploughshares,
and their spears
into pruning-knives;
nation shall not lift up
sword against nation,
neither shall they learn
war any more".

For, peace is more
than the absence of war.
 
Paul Hartal
   
 

   
   
 

  4.     

The Silence Of Love

You talk not about your love,
For the greatest love
May envelop itself
In a lacy veil of serene secrecy.

You talk not about your love
Just look into my eyes
Silently, long
While the time resounds
And then recedes slowly
To distant shores of indigo seas
In my soul.

The wind carries quietly the clouds
No sound shatters the still of zephyr.
You talk not about your love
Only the heart throbs loudly.

Do you hear it?

A heavy bronze bell
Tolls involuntarily
In the placid interior
Of the sombre belfry

And the tower trembles
Soars in its immobility.

Elated, you and I walk wordlessly
In the deserted boulevard.

Like the snow of spring I melt
In your presence
While timid shadows
Of my dense vulnerability
Coagulate silently in the sunlight
Darkening the asphalt pavement
Of the afternoon street.

The wind carries quietly the clouds
No sound shatters the still of zephyr.
You talk not about your love
Though its flames burn my flesh.

Then the hours pass by
And wondrous stars flicker
In a magical night.

But now
I am alone in my room
Listening to a violin concerto
Of the Butterfly Lovers
A poignant story
Of eternal love

On a Compact Disc
That you gave me.
 
Paul Hartal
   
 
 

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Poems By Poet Paul Hartal