Paul Hartal

Paul Hartal Poems

321. Vernacular Painting 3/14/2013
322. Viceroy And Monarch 11/8/2014
323. Voyage Around The Square Root Of Minus One 6/18/2012
324. War Memories With Acrostic 6/27/2012
325. Weeds And Hyacinths 10/1/2011
326. What Dante Told Me 12/5/2012
327. What Is Love? 12/22/2012
328. What Motivates Us? 5/11/2016
329. When Is A Painting Finished? 11/26/2011
330. When Will The Messiah Come? 10/17/2014
331. Where Do Circles Grow? 10/16/2014
332. Which Comes First? 5/4/2015
333. Whispering Forest 10/2/2011
334. White Table With Red Chairs 12/6/2015
335. Whose Life Is Worth More? 5/20/2012
336. Why Tears My Love? 10/8/2011
337. Why The Snow Melts 10/12/2012
338. Woman With Train 10/1/2011
339. Women Change, But Men Don'T? 2/23/2013
340. Wordless Promise 7/18/2016
341. You Are Not The Wind 10/5/2011
342. You Cannot Live Without The Hydrogen Bomb -new- 8/24/2016
343. You Must Be Strong 2/23/2014
344. Zebra And Clarinet 7/22/2016
Best Poem of Paul Hartal

Oranges And Grapes

Oranges and grapes refuse to grow in the cold.
Today I sing and dance, refuse to grow old.
Yet all the same, time is tyrant and ruthless,
Unfolds my wrinkling years, it is relentless.

Now and then the lots seem to be gentle and kind,
But alloyed with fate the somnambulist is blind.
Luck and fortuity might act as a soubrette,
Life spins our fate like roulette in a film set.

Still, let us drink to life, celebrate, and be glad,
Let us sing and dance today, refuse to be sad.
Oranges and grapes do not grow in the cold,
A warm wind ties ribbons to maple ...

Read the full of Oranges And Grapes

Cesarean Section

On a sunny day of Taurus
they cut her abdomen.
With stainless scalpels
the surgeons unlatched her uterus
and out of her slashed womb,
touching with their sterile gloves
the enigma of an enclosed but remote self,
they pulled out the boy crying,
covered with blood,

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