Biography of Shalom Freedman
Poetry has been with me all my life. My father of blessed memory Reuben Kelly Freedman loved to recite outloud favorite passages. I learned from him the love of the sounding voice. My mother of blessed memory, Edith Zeibert Freedman loved music, and music was in her soul. I from an early age loved to read, and I found in those readings reflections of my own soul. In the American schools of my day 'memorization' of poems was a required task. But to me it was more than required. It was a passion. To memorize the lines and hold them deep inside was to enrich oneself. One can walk anywhere with a poem one has and bring it back any time, and with it give oneself energy for the heart and soul. I have loved to read Poetry all my life.
I could tell the story of my first small groping efforts to make my feelings felt in words. They were strengthened by readings and rereadings of anthologies of Poetry including one little yellow- covered Mentor volume a good share of the poems of which I have by heart to this day.
'Psalms I loved
and next to Psalms
Wordsworth and Shakespeare,
And nothing of Donne and Hopkins
Coleridge and Dickinson was strange to me.
Stevens and Keats and Whitman too
like those words of Ecclesiastes
seared my soul
Poetry has been my life
and all those lines of others
greater than my own
mingle with mine in my heart
And in their sounds of love
as sacred lines
and thoughts remembered
make us more grateful and glad
And in the subsequent years I have reading and writing Poetry.
There is one book of poems published, 'Mourning for my Father'.(Field Books 1989) And there is another book of poetic thought: 'Life as Creation: A Jewish Way of Thinking About the World' (Jason Aronson,1993) .
But the overwhelming mass of my poems are scattered among old papers, most likely never to be redeemed.
Out of a sense that all would go without ever anyone knowing about it, I took the opportunity offered by the most poetic - friendly site, I know, 'Poemhunter' to post poems here. I hope they bring some light and enjoyment, some music and consolation, some inspiration and insight to any and all who read them.
Shalom Freedman's Works:
'Mourning for my Father'.(Field Books 1989)
: 'Life as Creation: A Jewish Way of Thinking About the World' (Jason Aronson,1993) .
- I Know I Can Go On -new-
- Without My Friends -new-
- There Is No Sadness Like The Sadness Of ... -new-
- After A Certain Age -new-
- There Is No End To The Sadness Of Life -new-
- The Stars Are Moving Away From Us -new-
- Life Goes On In All Its Endless Sadness -new-
- Death And Death Again -new-
- I Do Not Know What To Do With My Time -new-
- I Wait For The World Outside -new-
- I Cannot Relive My Life -new-
- I Long For My Life As It Was
- The Sadness Of Life/The Sadness Of Its H...
- One More Little Poem
Shalom Freedman Poems
Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems- More poems and more poems and more poems-
The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem The beauty of music The beauty of light The beauty of life
A Few Kind Words
A FEW KIND WORDS A few kind words From a stranger far away
I Wrote Poems About Writing Poetry
I wrote poems about writing poetry Poems about being or trying to be a poet
Who Wants War?
WHO WANTS WAR? Who wants war? Who wants more dead people?
Sadness Sadness Sadness
SADNESS SADNESS SADNESS Sadness sadness sadness It will never end
A Man Alone
A man alone is a night alone is a poem alone a man alone
Courage Is Hope's Last Friend
COURAGE IS HOPE'S LAST FRIEND Courage is Hope's last friend Against all the fear and failing that we know
A Poem Of Frustration, Rage, Bitterness,...
A POEM OF FRUSTRATION, RAGE, BITTERNESS, RESENTMENT, DISAPPOINTMENT, ENVY, SADNESS, SICKNESS, DEPRESSION, FEAR A poem of frustration, rage, bitterness, resentment, disappointment, envy, sadness, sickness, despair, depression, fear- All feelings of down and darkness and shame and lust and emptiness
Courage In Old Age Is Difficult
COURAGE IN OLD AGE IS DIFFICULT Courage in old age is difficult But Courage is always difficult
My Cup Runneth Over
MY CUP RUNNETH OVER My cup runneth over- I have been given so much-
A Life Is Lived The Way It Is Lived
A LIFE IS LIVED THE WAY IT IS LIVED A life is lived the way it is lived I did what I did
The Four- Minute Poem
The four- minute poem Is the one which I am writing now-
A Poem- Tell Me This Is A Poem
A POEM/ TELL ME THIS IS A POEM A Poem- Tell me this is a poem-
Words Against Death
WORDS AGAINST DEATH
All the immortals are moral:
Tubercular Kafka spared Treblinka
Lunatic Nietzsche banging a piano to oblivion
Great Tolstoy escaping to a railroad coach,
Gentle Yeats frigid at Ben Bulben.
What lives is a work and that imperfectly: