gershon hepner Poems

Bars that keep a felon in,
keratin and melanin
trap the colors on the tail
that a peacock loves to flail.
...

If you’re accustomed to a constant ream
of cyberinformation, you’ll be bored
when digitally you’re deprived. Your stream
of consciousness won’t be restored
...

Regard me, one side and the other,
each side is not the other’s brother,
for usually each side’s in hiding
behind my artifice, the siding
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Hard on her saddle now riding her cycle
my lady engages the road less than me,
and seems to be frozen in thought, an icicle
for those who don’t know that her feelings are free.
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I, of rhyming fond, itch
to rhyme. It is a bondage
blank poets cannot match,
since they aren’t up to scratch.
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On the first day, God said: 'Let there be
some light! ' and till today it fills all our lives.
One hundred million years from now, then, He
decided that with butterflies and hives
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Timelessly I waste, awaiting
something that is less specific
than the joys of South Pacific
that cause me highly aggravating
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Like moths to the flame
the tabloids all flock,
and put men to shame
with a shudder of schlock.
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Bach means brook, which turns into a stream
of consciousness that flows
into the oceans of the mind, whose dream
its measures recompose
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Leaving empty spaces is more brave
than making sure that everything is filled,
and only when we’re silent can we save
the truth, that’s like a lily we don’t gild.
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