Shalom Freedman Poems

ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE

All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
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A SMALL POEM

A small poem
A few lines
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A POEM IS SAD

A poem is sad
When it is not read
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In this small life of mine
So much Beauty and Goodness
Has been given me
That I could die now quietly
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I write and cannot write-
I dream and cannot dream-
I hope and cannot hope-
I am lost and more lost,
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We who love our children
Are most happy when those children
Have children of their own-
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AFTER THE END OF SHABBAT

After the end of Shabbat
The silence is broken
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THERE ARE TIMES TO FORGET

There are times to forget
The passing of everything
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THERE IS NO TIME FOR A POEM NOW

There is no time for a poem now
And no hope a poem will save me-
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The God I pray to
Knows how imperfect we are
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