gershon hepner Poems

Sometimes I turn into a cloud
like tobacco that I’ve lit.
I always rain a little bit,
unless there is a major crowd
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Hands on which all babies crawl
and later learn to catch a ball
don’t always love to curl
around the parts of me that quiver
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When love is minus zero in
your heart you’re still my heroine.
Until you go beyond the limit
of fire heat I won’t be timid,
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From Hart Crane the title,
though given by Martha
to Aaron’s recital;
there’s nothing he’d rather
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With no fear of danger that might injure,
pirouetting through the air,
flying backwards and on high heels Ginger
used to dance with Fred Astaire.
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Baby, you must know that I’m entangled
up in your blue eyes that match my own.
Other flighty females, more new-fangled
than you, don’t do for me what you alone
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Once nine billion names of God were known
the world would end, the monks declared.
When scientists transferred them from a stone
on which He’d written them, they then compared
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Though I’m often very sad,
an alter ego makes me smile,
emotionally not ironclad,
virtually versatile.
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Please lady please, do play our song
again, it isn’t over yet,
though I sometimes done you wrong,
those moments, lady, please forget.
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There was a secret chord that David played;
Bathsheba heard it, bathing in the pool.
The music drove the words that David prayed
away like colored autumn leaves in Yule.
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