How Long by Shahar Bram in honor of Delmore Schwartz
A generation's illness
is not an answer to a poet's death.
Each poet's sword-his soaring words,
yours were the ones that sang of solitude and silence,
a white birds' choir, the shooting stars
that crossed our heavens briefly
to realize their essence
in a dying consciousness.
If poetry is the expression of a burning
body, the humming orbit around
an obscure and twinkling core,
how long the pale wake lingers
on the mantle of night
after the heart fails?
In some hotel, lost fame, lost
man, and dead three days
of ignorance, the world
in which you flickered
gone, oh long ago,
an empty bottle in an empty room,
last drops of time consumed, of time
the monster and the pet you tamed and poked,
whose daughter love (the animal) your lines kept
circling, leaving room for others to step in.
Where are they now?
An empty circle,
an isolated talk against the wounded walls
of mind, the lullaby of holes, the horrors
splashed when all of a sudden
from a naked mirror a poet
young and promising reflects,
and poems old and strange
bubble up the brackish well of memory.
Did you believe in poetry
until the end, as was said?
Was poetry an ally
in the battle against a mental foe?
Could myth be an ally against oblivion?
A People is Singing by Shahar Bram in honor of Langston Hughes
People are singing,
their bodies sway,
their body is the fruit of their voice,
their soft, fluffy fiber glorifies the wind
unprotected: stripes of flesh, scattered souls.
Blessed be the blind earth that gathers all seeds,
the clear words that assemble torn cotton bolls:
both feet on the ground
a people is singing
in one voice
Anyway by Shahar Bram in honor of Anne Sexton
Not myself, anyway.
A mannequin
or a skeleton;
perhaps a doll.
I dress it, undress it,
I feed it with thoughts
which I afterwards share,
they spread like snakes in the air.
My fellow puppets are sympathizing,
'you remind me of someone I once met,' says the wolf,
and Rumpelstiltskin grins: 'I'm for real, I pay with gold.'
And indeed this is not a dream,
and I keep stitching my self,
smiling like hell.
I am so much awake,
I'm lying in the clearing,
a beautiful model
covered with empty leaves.
Go ahead, read through me,
I'm transparent,
you'll never see
I am not
Needles by Shahar Bram in honor of Robert Lowell
Needles, nails, whipping-
someone's mind must be out of his-
it must be my body.
And shrinking,
once a Tsar
now a flat balloon;
the memory of flying,
and the fright of recalling my selves.
Ah but writing, the little time
left after the highs and I's
sliding down, the who I am
putting down.
The hangman and his victim are one.
The Show by Shahar Bram in honor of Sylvia Plath
"Dr. Tod Mr. Gott Sir Liebhaber
will perform three farewell shows
starting this Spring, when the blossoming
red cells desire more, encore,
in the local theater Das Leben.
There will be no rerun."
"As in a colorful dream
the audience will have a rare opportunity
to watch the one and only
Der Heilige Vater
substantiate his three personalities.
There will be no rerun."
"Herr Teufel and Dame Seele
will sing Valediction,
dance the great tango,
unite and make flesh
in a beautiful maiden body.
There will be no rerun."
"Der Zeit, the Master of ceremonies,
will lead the last show
to be held on a bloody cold day
in a dense cell
when the theater is closed.
There will be no rerun."
About the poet :
Prof. Shahar Bram teaches at the Department of Hebrew & Comparative Literature at the University of Haifa.
His most recent books include Requiem to a Bird (2017); Memento: Poetry, Photography, Memory (2017); and A Birds Clock (2016).
Prof. Shahar Bram teaches American and Hebrew poetry, in writing that bring together historical aspects with theoretical, thematic aspects, and broaden the discussion to other fields such as art, photography, etc.
Prof. Bram is on the Advisory Board of the Gloucester Writer Center , Gloucester MA .
About the painter:
Neta was born in Israel and raised in South Africa . She spent formative periods of time in the Netherlands , Italy , Canada and the US . Over the years—formally and less formally—she studied music, literature, languages and art.
Neta holds a BA in Italian Literature & Art History from The Hebrew University of Jerusalem; and an MA [ cum laude ] in Comparative Literature from the University of Haifa .
Neta Goren is a member of the Cape Ann Artist Community with past exhibits at Rocky Neck.
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