gary polonsky Poems

Who are wise? They who learn from everyone.
Who are rich? They who rejoice in their portion.
Who are mighty? They who subdue their passions.
I did not say this. Not smart enough.‎
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Music in the air,
Landscape with her hands -
What's the message there
That lands?
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January 20th of '42,
A mother was birthing the newest Jew,
While ‎across the ocean, by a crystaline lake,
Met 15 Nazis for the singular sake
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Two Germany's, South Africa,
Northern Ireland, Columbia,
Reconciled though years of hate
Pushed them to assassinate,
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a sonnet

I recall when Zalman's eyes and mine did meet
Each other's, my first Shabbat in Whitby Shul,
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A sonnet

Some songs are waiting to be sung
In voice or voices raised toward the sun,
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Trav'ling with my Satchel,
Time to turn the Paige,
Trumpeting with Satchmo
When dixie was the rage,
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Everybody owes God a death,
The Laws of Obligation so beqeth.
I shan't predict how little or how late.
What's the point? All is simply fate.
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You know how life doesn't always end
At points of time or space bred in our mind,
Doesn't matter ‎how nobly you intend
An outcome, ‎life is life, an oft-surprising kind.
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A sonnet

We can choose our way, ‎even when most liable,
Even when the Capos come to smash
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