Appointed (#WritePhoto)

Crow calls, silver scented chaos on a wing, the first bird in our fable, servant of the eternal treated like a lesser thing, she has pierced the veil of remembering, sky-scattered ash, forlorn tales warning of apocalypse, past or forward-telling; projectiles of perhaps; of gross human failing; humanity’s mishaps, of greed, and taking, wings flap…

Why is it all about the ‘base’?

but they still talk about the Trumpist base
all ‘bout the base, not justice,
but some of that Trumpist base are fascists
it’s ’bout that base, ’bout that base, not justice
it’s all ’bout that base, ’bout that base …

The Trees’ Prayer

beneath the trees we scatter stones, crystals sprinkled, quartz, adventurine, jasper, shining on whiteout pavements, hematite and sea stone offered, we’re gifted branches by the Rowan that once gave us an indoor sukkah while I was bedbound in our home, one loosed branch will be my pointer in the time yet to be spun, I’ll…

Mother Mezuzah; a Tree of Life Tale

Becca lived with her dad, Jo, and her younger sibling, Jacob, near the city park. From her bedroom window in their attic, some of the remaining trees of an ancient forest seemed to spill into their garden. Everyday her dad would put Jacob in a toddler carrier on his back and they’d welcome the day…

Rowan

Hello all, I hope this finds you and your loved ones well. If it doesn’t you are in my thoughts and prayers. The following is one poem from a temporary flurry of art and words on the Tree of Life. For me this is a celebration of not only Tu B’ Shevat, the birthday of…

Dear Antisemite; a poem for Holocaust Memorial Day

The poem below is the first of a collection it has taken me a long time to share. I’ve not been sharing my work broadly for a while, both for health reasons and the sense of being silenced. Enough said on that one. This Holocaust Memorial Day I am sharing this. It is actually being…

Songs of Poppies Revisited

This Remembrance Sunday I am attaching links to two past posts of mine. On this day I recall all those who died or were injured in body or mind in wars they had no part in starting. I honour those who stood and fell against the forces of fascism from whatever country they hailed from. …

Real Fantasy

(post formally called ‘the magic touch’) I love magical realism, the unexplained sitting side by side with routine, reasoned reality.  Perhaps I love it because in truth reality rarely appears very reasonable. My fascination may in part be because that taste of magic fulfills in me a yearning for everyday enchantment, but not too much…