.ART Weil
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Share Dream
Give
Me
A
Dream
And
I’ll
Fill it
With treasures
Share them
Proudly
In
Tomorrow’s
World!
Our reality
Not things
But dreams
Feelings
which touch the heart
Make my spirit
Soar
Into the heavens
So I can dance with the angels
The craggy rock of ice
Jutting out in the water
Beware of the iceberg
underneath 
Ships stay away
Massive weight
Greek sirens beckon
Doom awaits - sonar
I pray to angels to save me
Wide circle
An invisible force pulls me closer
Closer, in the frigid, ice-cold water
The iceberg attracts like a dangerous magnet
There – stark – shimmering – in the vast sea
To avoid – to admire as a phenomena
I must turn this ship around
Get away – hurriedly
Or else?
Homeward bound
Wrapped in angels wings
While the iceberg slowly melts
Centuries old to spell calamity
No Way Jose!
Wagner Opera
Deep Scuba Dive
Bungee Jumping
Into the lion’s den
Eat cricket covered with chocolate
Worms OK. , crickets not
Nor black beetles,
Nor intestines of many animals
The eyes, the ears, testicles and the like
You know – each to it’s own
No Way Jose!
Enter the war zone as a reporter
Be the second tourist on the moon
Go to a dentist with old drill equipment
Put all my money on one roulette number
But I’ll kiss her generously
With delicate emotion
Wear shoes so tightly that I’ll die
Go into my best friends car
After he had three stiff drinks
Cheat on my spouse (Look yes!)
Be the last person to leave the earth
(Not my choice)
Change religions more than three times
Tasty Turkish apricots
Tongue teased
Turn me into knots
Stewed and chewed
Orange color dried
My mouth is full of delights
Alright, alright
A bit tangy
Tantalizingly sweet
My taste buds full of joy
All because this small dried apricot
Why not?
That’s what happens when you eat dried apricots.
I Got Scalped.
Barber in angry mood,
Decimated and raped my head.
Four
months of growth,
Brown, silver soft hair
On the linoleum floor, dead.
My hair!
“No, no,” I muttered,
But it was too late.
He had to lance sides,
Even the remaining strands of hair.
God given, wavy, proud
Why did I ever go here?
And now I have to pay for the insult.
I think I’ll hide for two or three months,
Wear a wig or hat,
Or tell them I shall act in
The next grotesque comedy.
Trick or treat.
Gone Fishing
“Stir! Move you damn hanging line with bait!”
Gone fishing, right here.
Bite the bait, why don’t you?
Pole hangs over pier, not a single stir,
75 minutes, no bite.
Still it’s a relaxing site.
Breezy, expansive green-gray,
Water laps, I hear the rushing sound,
Changed bait again, under the cloudy
Grayish sky.
Another worm, or pieces of fish on the hook,
Only half a block away they caught a small salmon.
So much to think about sitting on my stool.
Pensive, away from the rattle,
The distant drone and hooting of city pressure.
Safe in my own cocoon of this fishing world.
After hours, I go home with
Fishing tackle, pail, net,
All a pleasure of precious days.
Sometimes I even catch two or three fish,
Flashes of childhood: Licorice, raspberries
Pungent smell of red, ripe apples
Climb the pear tree
Bite into the rich, ripe juiciness
Sugary fluid dancing over my cheek
The cantata of chirping birds
Answering the mating call
Painting the landscape
with
Nature’s music.
Stepping between cow dung
Cows chewing, clinking cowbells
While the morning crow of the rooster
Announcing the dawn
Pink pigs in their messy pigsty.
Competitive, jumped from the roof of the barn shed
Into hay bales spread
The yellow mattress, oozing fresh cut smell
Dry grass for the winter store
Jumped again – my right hand twisted
Fractured in two places
Utterly painful, my tears and anguish
Mixed with pride
This time of bliss and innocence
The laughter of those moments
Embellished in my being
How lucky to remember
Reflect -- 70 years later
With barely a scratch
I must have loved the world
As even today I can fly and fall,
Lift my bent, older, body erect
Smile content, excited with living
Not yet ready to define my memories
But ready for tomorrow
Tired eyes, refreshed.
I Am the Poet
I am a poet
I can shatter the moon
Flatten out earth’s curvature
I am a poet
I can make the maidens swoon
Electrify the soldier to the edge of desertion
Bring the old man’s hair, chin, features, back to magnificence
Rhymes make the child giggle with you
I am a poet
Curse arrogance, usurped power
Castigate injustice
Give reprieve where mistake incarcerated the innocent
I can even dig back into the secrets of my childhood
I am a poet
My words like leaves wilt
My prose drowned out by engines
My philosophic warnings castigated
I am the poet
Live, lust, Love
Reach into the ugly crevices
Bluntly expose injustice
I am the poet
Starved and mocked
Castigate modernity
The world of things soon to break
| Poetry Reading at Mi Wuk Village Inn & Conference Center http://www.MiWukVillageInn.com December 5, 2006 Wine tasting, Jazz piano... proceeds to benefit : California Federation of Chaparral Poets |
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Art Weil the poet,loves poetry, poem books,poetry books,he is a teacher,writer,parent,mentor,reviews,critque,book review, movie review,stories,poems,poetry,musings,words,theater review, theatre reviews, literary agent, literature,books, publications,entertainment,theatre,published works,published,father,grandfather,traditions,storyteller,words of wisdom,humor,sex,love,laughter,life.readings,schedule of readings,creator and publisher of american poetry to be in libraries