gershon hepner Poems

When the moon beams start to mellow,
I hope you'll see in me the fellow
Who's sweet as suites upon the cello
By Bach, Johann Sebastian,
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Small and soundless, the baton
is the engine of the sound
which players have to focus on
when they become performance bound.
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I HEAR THE WOMEN SINGING

I hear the women singing, melancholic
about the pleasures that they wish to share
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She dwells with beauty that won’t die,
because she is the portal
of inspirations that will multiply
and make them both immortal.
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Repositories of wonderment, your breasts
are touchstones of the beauty that like silk
appeal to eyes and my right hand that rests
upon them, squeezing love instead of milk.
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LESS THAN TEN RABBIS CAN'T DAVEN TOGETHER

Less than ten rabbis can't daven together,
but ten humble shoemakers can make a minyan.
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BONS MOTS


Turning dross of verbal clay
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THE BISHOP'S LAMENT


To his favorite actress, this verse
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WHENEVER RHYMES ARE GLORIOUS


Rhyme that turns your phrases
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REVELS WITH DEVILS


Neat moralistic bows should not tie up
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