Shalom Freedman Poems

A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY

A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
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I HAVE ONLY WHO I AM/ TO BE MORE OF MYSELF WITH

I have only who I am
To be more of myself with.
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MY SADNESS CAME OVER ME AGAIN

My sadness came over me again
Why? What is it all for? What does it mean?
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THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW

The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
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WHERE IN ALL THIS WORLD OF DREAMS

Where in all this world of dreams
Are my dreams?
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THE WORLD IS YOURS
A WALK ON MISHMAR- HA- AM STREET

The world is yours
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I HAD A POEM/ BUT IT WAS NOT PERFECT

I had a poem
But it was not perfect
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NO ONE CAN KNOW WHERE A POEM COMES FROM
(After reading an essay by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks)

No one can know where a poem comes from
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IN THE MIDDLE OF THE JOURNEY

In the middle of the journey
Though closer to the end
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SO MANY POEMS/ HOW CAN ONE POSSIBLY BEGIN TO DESCRIBE

So many poems.
How can one possibly begin to describe
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