gershon hepner Poems

Once you touch a butterfly
it often, flustered, fails to flutter,
and cannot soar into the sky
without a sputter and may splutter,
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My language always is precise,
but I’m prepared to take advice
from people who can’t follow what
I’m saying. When I’m being hot,
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Of almost bare, the derriere
of women wearing underwear
that covers little, I would sing,
and thongs that are designed to cling
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The beauty of a ruin may be best
appreciated by a rank outsider,
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Accentuate the positive, I said,
and minimize
the negative, and then lift up your head.
Look in my eyes,
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Before the marriage can been framed
the canvas has to be unrolled,
and even if the artist is unnamed
make sure the story that he’s told
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Doors I never close
cause millions of regrets,
like yesteryears whose snows
no melting heart forgets.
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It’s a man’s man’s man’s man’s world,
but it’s really nothing if you haven’t got
a woman or a girl by whom you’re whirled
around, around, around. There are a lot
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The generations of the earth
and heavens are this poem’s story:
how man was first to come to birth,
and woman then became his glory.
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In Bethel he had seen the gate of heaven,
and by the sight had truly been beguiled:
the patriarch returned there with eleven
young sons, plus Rachel, who was big with child.
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