gershon hepner Poems

Your tears you thought would fertilize
the lemon tree will flow instead
to give the desert a surprise,
renewing blossoms that aren’t dead,
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Loveliest tree, the cherry will,
its blossoms under snow,
tell aging poets there is still––
before the blossoms go
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What did I have for my dinner last night
and what did I talk about while we were eating?
Who was the one who prepared every bite
and saved the leftovers perhaps for reheating?
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The nude reveals her naked skin,
looking healthy, free and fresh,
but the naked girl will win
more attention with her flesh,
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Believing six things to be wrong
before our breakfast has been made
occurs when coffee isn’t strong
and toast is lacking marmalade.
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Too old to be a baby boomer,
for lassies he still has the hots,
although they call him daft wee zoomer
when he goes lowland on the Scots.
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His tunes were so simple the coachmen could sing it,
but some were so complex they thought he was mad,
though they were spontaneous he never would wing it;
yet nothing was scratched out on Mozart’s scratch pad.
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Although adultery’s forbidden in
the Ten Commandments, look up number seven,
there are a lot of other ways to sin
that take a man to hell while he seeks heaven.
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Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
that is the way that we go when we rust,
oxygen making us oxidize, swords
turned into plowshares while fighting for words.
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The primal primate, Eve, offended
God by telling Man to eat
a most enticing fruit suspended
from a tree. This tricky treat
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