shimon weinroth Poems

To Jay, Michael, Ella and Nairee

On the yellow brick road
There is litter and a toad
...

precedes, a dream a fantasy,
or a witches spell, and if I go to
hell, gets there before I do,
is no consolation,
...

feeling, flowing free and fleeting,
floating swimming on waves of neurons
pulsing skipping, somersaulting,
up, down and around resounding
...

a bogus of the social mind
one thing looks like another
has the features of its mother
...

She is a stickler for cleanliness
paper towels, napkins and napery
change of garments and underwear
washed and ironed, fresh incensed
...

life is priceless
almost,
being one of its elements
time is sacred,
...

shopping for fruits and vegetables,
a joy of total domain,
with a sure hand and sharp eye,
you choose and select again and again
...

armchair, easychair or rocking chair
comfort, reeling or in despair
embrace all who enter its den and lair
...

my grandchildren are children of my children,
sounds quite Biblical,
grandchildren are my children once emoved,
neither born nor reared under our roof
...