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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
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Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » Poetry Potpourri by Jack Nudel (red white and royal blue hardcover TXT) 📖

Book online «Poetry Potpourri by Jack Nudel (red white and royal blue hardcover TXT) 📖». Author Jack Nudel






In loving memory of my mother




I saw my mother dead


I saw my mother dead,
Lying upon her bed.
Something had gone from that face
That once I held in sweet embrace.

It was, as if an artist a sculpture
Had made; a likness, an imitation,

Essence gone.
Lifeless as stone


A Piece of Infinity



A summer’s eve,
A real delight.
Except for a breeze,
Just to tease,
Everything is still
The air has no chill.

No sound to be heard.
No chirping of bird.

An envelope of stillness,
To wrap yourself in
And dream of things
That might have been.

An interlude of quietude
Fills my mind.
This feeling is quite sublime.

Even if it lasts for a little while,
It’s a piece of infinity
And it’s all mine.

Out of the Ashes



Out of the ashes
A glowing ember
Rises upwards,
Darting here and there,
In search,
Of the flames of love.

The glow dimming,
The life within it
Quickly dying,
Upward, ever upward
It is flying.

It is determined to explore
The infinity above,
Searching for love
To rekindle the fire
And keep it for ever
Flying higher.

Thirsting for love
It was exhumed.
Searching for love
It will be consumed.


<Forgotten Memories</font>

The lovely flower
Revealed its inner beauty.


Its petals soft.
Its fragrance sweet;
Stirring the mind.

Memories once hidden
In the deepest recesses,
Long forgotten,
Revived again
In the vivid fragrance
Of a flower’s bloom.


Swirling Circles of Time



Alive with vibrations of Time
Is this Universe of mine.

Measures of time
Beyond imagination;
Swirling about in the immensity
Of space,
Leaving everywhere a trace,
Of things that were
And now are not,
But, will be again,

In this never ending
Swirling circle of Time.


The Lilac Tree



The lilac tree outside my window.
The flowers long gone
That blossomed in the spring

The leaves reflect the golden light of the sun
And flutter in the breeze
As if waiving good by to a dear friend.

Covered in its white winter coat
It will wait right here
‘Till the warmth of the sun
Brings its sweet scented blossoms
Back home again.


The Dance



Up and down, in and out,
Dancing round and round.
That’s what life
Is all about!

A dance; a harmonious melody;
A continuously intertwined,
Patchwork of colors, weaving
In and out.
That’s what life is all about.

Even when the music
Is strange and unfamiliar,
Get into the rhythm,
Listen to the sound.
Join the dancers as they go
Round and round

.




Images and Visions

Images and Visions
Dancing in my head,
Just before I go to bed.

All through the night
I toss and turn.
For enlightenment I yearn.

I lie awake.
I try to sleep,
Into infinity I creep.

I search of the meaning
Of creation,
For therein
Lies salvation.


The Fool’s Race

Fool, why do you run?

‘There!’
“I run to get ‘there!’ ”

Out of breath,
He keeps running.

“I’m almost ‘there’.
Just a little further”
The fool assures.

But ‘there’ is illusive.
It lies in darkness,
Out of reach; vast,
Undefined.

Yet, the fool keeps
Running.


Winter



Winter smacks us
In the face.
It freezes the marrow.
Life’s juices stop flowing

It smacks us
In the face
With glorious fury

Beauty;
Cold
Indifferent
And fragile.


My Computer



I feel like an intruder
As I approach my computer.

I try to put my thoughts
On the screen
Of that infernal machine!


Form Out Of Nothingness



Stand on the edge.
Look down.
What do you see?
Dark empty space?

Focus your eyes!
Peer into the emptiness.

A big Bang.....
Images begin to appear.
Form out of nothingness.


The Burning Sun



I close my eyes.
My eye lids are translucent.

I try to fall asleep,
But, sleep won’t come.

I feel the brightness
Of the burning sun.


The Weekend




Weekend!
I look forward to the weekend.

Two days.
One, two.

Weekend!
I look forward to the weekend.


Imprint

Publication Date: 11-12-2010

All Rights Reserved

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