swimming
August 27, 2008 at 5:57 pm (encounters, questions, thoughts, wishes)
On the way back from St Pancras station I read the metro of London Tube. Back to the British gray carriage that has a lot less stories than the Parisian metro. An article about the northern bears that need to learn how to swim now that the world is getting warmer and the glaziers are melting.obviously I was thinking of you my dearest bear, who woke up in the midst of spring to discover there is another world out there. a melting world of glaziers separated to little islands of frost, ponds of compassion and lust are widening, splashes of water drizzling from the mountians as you discover the valey , blooming with my love. We are getting warmer every time we meet and it takes a lot of courage to admit that we sometime don’t know to do basic things like swimming, driving, having a dialog. You told me you will teach me French and how to ride a bicycle and I will teach you in return Hebrew and how to swim in deep water. Just Please don’t go back to your cage. Its cold there and I don’t know yet how to get my middle eastern habits to suit the northern wind.
cant
August 21, 2008 at 9:09 am (encounters)
Im coming to you
with a head that cant think about the future
with a mouth that cant deliver a kiss
with a heart that cant accept another beat
with hands that cant hold a ring
will you help me carry my bag on the metro steps?
forgetting
August 20, 2008 at 4:56 pm (poems, questions, thoughts, wishes)
Should I continue to write here
to experiment a forign language
while forgetting my mother’s tounge ?
Should i continue to write here
to experiment my love to others
while forgetting my mother’s blood ?
Should I continue to write here
to experiment my fears of commitment
while forgetting my mother’s desires?
Desert moods
August 19, 2008 at 6:40 am (encounters, poems, thoughts, wishes)
The rain in the morning mixed my tears to a less pure essence
My eyes were forgiven for looking at the wrong man.
I shall wear my rain coat and my high boots with you again,
British weather do not suit my desert moods.
mother and son
August 16, 2008 at 6:55 pm (children, encounters, poems, questions, thoughts, wishes)
mother and son.
far east on the close east mixed with middle east
stepny green station on the district line
mother and son
first couple next to me
in her early twenties. about 3 years old
mother and son
second couple facing us
in her mid 40ies . I guess hes’ close to 20
mother and son
I write their imaginary romance in my little notebook
son 2 could have been the lover of mother 1
mother and son
I count the numbers while day dreaming
is son 1 is a result of their forbidden affair
mother and son
I look into her tired eyes
mother 2 is not happy with her sons choices
mother and son
I ask her to forgive me for sharing their secret
and to forgive her child for growing up
mother and son
their emotions were tangled on rush hour
when strangers bodies share a safe romance
mother and son
they knew it was their destiny
when eyes met through the metros thin paper
mother and son
they exchange an invisible kiss
and I sit between them to indulge my lust
mother and son
she holds his hand
afraid he will be lost i n the croud
non
August 16, 2008 at 10:43 am (encounters, poems, questions, thoughts, wishes)
A non kosher sunday breakfast
the food in the pen
the man who makes it
my thoughts.
I will make a resolution to become kinder to my own religion
will you help me ?
waking up
August 13, 2008 at 9:41 pm (children, encounters, prose, thoughts, wishes)
children’s tale this time. even for adults
“Its time to wake up ! wake up everybody. Wake up Mo-iz, wake up Adele, wake up Vincent .” the spring warden was walking next to each and one of the m and greeting them with a personal wake up call.
Ahhhh….greemmpppfff…..hrrrrr. a few sounds were popping from the different corners of the room noticing that all 3 were still not very much awake. “wake up” the spring warden repeated, she had a secured job in wakening the bears community of the northern part of the great forest. once you chose that role it was a mission for life.
Mo-iz lifted his white head, his eye semi shut and a sweet sleepy smile was hanging from his lips. His fuzzy hair was smeared and almost glued to its forehead. 4 months of deep winter sleep and 2 months of subtle numbing before, sort of made him look a bit used and worn but satisfied.
“Ahhhh…good morning Mo-iz you are always the first to stand up sweet heart” said the warden madam Rev with a cheerful voice watching her mission being accomplished. waking up bears after a winter sleep isn’t an easy mission and most people who did it used to be very tough and formal. she chose a different way “What about Adele your friend there ” she asked him softly “is she about to wake up too ? Adele honey, rise and shine, I have prepared you your favourite breakfast of sardines and bacon”.
Adele moved from her little round corner. Her skin was radiant after the long sleep she had, a bit red facing the fluffy mattress for a long time. She hummed a bit stretching her hairy arms and cuddling the thick whales cover her parents got for their wedding and opened one eye peeping at the green world glimpsing from the window
The world was bursting with spring flavours. Fresh daffodils blurring next to shiny white cherry blossom, cold water melting from the mountain drew little trails of fresh air, not too warm yet but with a promise of stronger rays of light. A little snore was coming from the corner of the room. Vincent turned to the other side and sniffed a little breath while his eyes were strongly shut
“Vincent dear, wake up, spring is here waiting for your blue eyes to make it warmer ”
the spring warden was removing another curtain from the window , not to blind him by the clean and happy light at once and Mo –iz sent a little kick to his left foot. Adele was joining the group effort to wake him up, after brushing her teeth picked a little fresh misty pine leaf and tickled Vincent behind his ear
no move.
Vincent was one of the heavier slippers of the great northern forest. Once he had thick avalanje rolling from the mountain burying him in his cave and he didn’t even turned over. when waking up , he admitted he had a dreamt of a fluffy thick swans cover that embraced him, and he thought maybe spring had come , but he didn’t hear the warden and so why bothering to open his eyes. life sometime slipped next to him with their glorious moments and it seemed that he didn’t noticed. but it didn’t mean he didn’t like life, and when he did notice he indulged himself with the smallest details , average people tend to ignore
Vincent preferred to prolong the winter In a couple of months more. to stay in his dreams for just a little bit more. dreams of travels around the world in magnificent places , him, his small bag pack and the sky and earth. the little cave he had was always piled with lots of boxes and old furniture’s and miles and miles of books that covered the sun from coming in and so people not always knew he was there. he also liked to sleep very much. and he didn’t care what people think. it didn’t bother him too much. well it used to not bother him , but than about a year ago the spring warden woke him for more than 3 weeks, and April was already there, and all the bears went to their spring vacation, he started to care. They had a little time by themselves. time to talk, to learn about each other and to learn to dialog with someone different. He discovered that this job she took on herself was a life mission and something she really liked doing. Waking up and revitalising bears after a long winter sleep.
Strange task indeed, but she liked it. So that winter a year ago he met for the first time a spring warden that really liked her job. Normally they used to complain a lot especially about him who simply refused to wake up. The wardens used to stand there, move him from side to side and throw cold water on his white and not so clean fur than they used to send him outside, to the not yet hot weather and force him to clean his yard for the flowers that should come any minute. but this warden was different. when he heard her in his sleep calling him to wake up, he already noticed spring was there. He smelled it from her perfume when she entered their cave in mid march.
but he didn’t move
” wake up dear she whispered softly. She didn’t mind he didn’t wash himself for 6 months and that he preferred to sleep with the same pair of socks or the length of his hair thats was growing longer with no rules. She liked his longer hair and his bright eyes once he opened them and realised how much he likes the outside after all. “wake up she brushed his hair with her soft palm”. Adele and Moiz were taking their spring first bath and bubbles and fresh scents were spreading in the cave. It felt spring, it smelled spring, it said spring out there. the north forest was renewing itself in bright colours.Vincent nostrils were moving gently and the warden knew he is not asleep anymore, but she knew not to tell it as well. To keep it a secret until he is ready to the world, and they are finally alone to continue the dialog of last year
fresh
August 12, 2008 at 10:08 am (encounters, poems, thoughts, wishes)
Overlooking the green shiny loan outside my building
blue eyes gaze at me at the same time
asking me to brush her angels hair
her sweet morning breath is blushing my cheeks
I feel the silk of an innocent hand
I embrace the morning with its humid wish
fresh at last.as my name demands
I am happy and yours
vosges
August 10, 2008 at 8:55 pm (encounters, poems, questions, thoughts)
a little village at the Vosges
only 3 fingers in each hand
you try to dial my number, my name, my heart
and I try to listen to the echo of our fears
a little village at the Vosges
2 wounded fingers in each palm
you try to call for my help, my love, my hope
and I try to stop the bleeding of our tears
Rope
August 7, 2008 at 9:48 pm (encounters)
you left me
when the rope is still in my hand
scratching my skin and my memories.
I asked you again and again, why did you let it slip?
and leave me alone, knowing nothing about ropes
but that they tie you down to safety.
I wrote you twice this year
before making my choice
and after I realized I am not good with choices,
holding another rope, bravely, wishing to learn
will you come here just for a moment please
to teach me how to make a knot?
girlfriend
August 5, 2008 at 12:14 pm (encounters, prose, thoughts, wishes)
“You listen to me girl , it aint worth the energies you’re spending on this weirdo. Better find yourself another macho, you know the guy I told you about from work. He is so the mr right for you….mmmmmmm I heard is Mr big too….”
Sitting with my 3 girlfriends on the Jubilee line from Canary Warf to Stratford, I learned what women learn every day and forget every day. you’re girlfriend and mother always right. They know better than you, they really want you to be happy. They are not you.
They were 3. I felt immediate need to sit between them. The sound of their intensive chat, their colourful appearance and their girls bonding attracted the few people left on the line at this time of the night, when most English people are preparing for the new week, and the last people to come from a last drink in the city, have already left the train in other stations. They were 3. , listening to them you may thought a whole group of teenagers were sharing a ride after a school event. But only 3. the one in the middle was the pretty one. That girl everyone wants to sit next to, to absorb a bit of her beauty. Having 2 with her it was perfect. She was well shared , and her beauty was enhanced by their admiring looks. Wearing blue denim, fitting her perfect athletic figure, a small very tight black top with lacy collar, and little fashion heels, she was the black queen of the Jubilee. she had an afro du, perfect cut and fresh curls that shivered gracefully every time she nodded with agreement to her girlfriend on the right. A large woman, around 26 years old. Same jeans, 10 sizes more and the ability to match every possible colour in one t-shirt. You not only “listen to me girl” as she demanded in every second sentence coming out of her very red silky lips. You listen to my t-shirt as well. I listened carefully. I listened not so carefully. All 3 of them noticed I am listening. They noticed I needed a girlfriend, one that will tell me everything I need to hear and everything that I really don’t want to hear. About him. About us.
I never listened to my friends before. My instincts always made me fall in love with the impossible , and once the impossible was possible I always felt bored and went away. The one time that the impossible was becoming the great love of my life, I found that life made it impossible again, unless he will come and claim me from this earth.
I listened to her telling the pretty girl, Shayne, to be smart this time and choose the right over the impossible. I wanted to hug her instead; her beauty deserves the right and the impossible as one.
The third friend on her left wasn’t yet taking any role. Maybe she was the listener, but gazing at me gazing at them I didn’t know if she listens to her or to my humble desires to join them. She had older features resembling the pretty one, maybe her older sister, who already been hurt in the past not listening to the smart one. As me she was wondering in a land of other peoples love tales. Comforting her self in other peoples storms and decision making, as to avoid for a short tube break her own decisions of her own heart.
At West Ham They bursted in a rhythmic laughter, 3 female voices who found a release talking about one of the former lovers of Miz pretty. The one that was not impossible or right. The one who was in between, like my best friend and lover I left back home. I felt ashamed of their laughter, and not so pretty anymore.
My new girlfriend on the left noticed my regretting silence and held her friends arm as to ask her to be less hysterical and respect the other feelings In the carriage. Stratford was welcoming us with quiet tunes of an empty station. The recorded request to mind the gap never felt as appropriate as in that moment,
mom’s bracelets
August 4, 2008 at 1:33 pm (encounters, questions, thoughts, wishes)
We sat there semi hugging in the stuffy carriage to take us to London Paddington. Our plan was to know each other a little better, walking In the thames path next to Marlow. The way on the tube was as long as the train ride we will take to maidenhead where we start our long and challenging bonding trail. She had a giant smile, a little black silky pony tail , hanging from the middle of her head . Her white shiny smile sparkling the boring carriage and her eyes deeper than mother earth. I guessed she was about 4 or 5 years old. A little copy of her mother, sitting next to her, holding her hand and smiling shyly to us, saying kind politeness with no words. Her daughter was obviously different than other children you meet In the tube that were held carefully by their parents to not be too flirty with the older adults. Since the old days of little red hood it is not a good thing to encourage your child to get friendly with strangers . But this little child with soft brown skin and long gold earrings was different. She didn’t say a word to us , simply looked at that strange combination of blue eyes , European man and brown passionate middle eastern girl. Wondering as I do what sort of children we may have and left at home.
I smiled back. An informal smiling chit chat was carried between us 3 . mother , daughter and the older non married aunt.
I was about her mother’s age , but felt like from a different era. She was an Indian woman who was forced into a western unflattering suit that didn’t match her figure, not her smile. Her hair dark with a few silver lines gathered around her neck in a simple du . Her suit gray and her shirt brown , a bit faded , and her shoes , flat and black with a little silvery broach decoration old fashioned as the suit and hair. Gold traditional bracelets and matching earrings to her daughter were the little glamor I found in her, and when she smiled I had noticed a golden tooth she didn’t manage to cover , even tough the twitches of her mouth were implementing she tried. Her bracelet was exactly the same kind grandma Mazal , my mothers mom made to all the daughters and granddaughters that were born in our family. Girls should have gold, as part of their “ nedoonia” or “ mohar” when they go to their new family. I never wore it, I didn’t like gold and I thought it will be better on my mom’s dark arm with the one she got as well. But looking at her wrist she reminded me of how much it is important that I will keep my independence and try to save a bit to have some materials of my own. But can I own anything?
Her daughter was by now a bit impatient in the carriage, and started playing with her moms arms , pretending it’s a little swinging bench, lifting her up and down. She rolled over the empty seats next to them and seemed to be comfortable in front of those strangers who were invited to join her game. I asked her for her name. Couldn’t keep my story nameless this time. Samira. my friend with bright eyes. I leaned towards her to listen to her unspoken words, and felt his arms pulling me softly not to get too far from him. Maybe he meant for me not to be carried away with my Middle Eastern manners who wished to make friends with strangers. Reminding me of the first meeting we had In Berlin when he thought that our kiss, passionate and warm as it was is a sin on a first date .
I pulled back, choosing his embrace this time. Will he ever release that embrace to be loose enough to have a child of our own?. Will he ever understand the sort of embrace I need to be his?
The mother’s shy smile got slightly bigger watching us; we make a pretty couple in those gray and not always passionate carriages. I wondered about her girl. She was not a young mom. As I will never be a young mom. Is she her youngest daughter , is she maybe a very young grandmother ? My eyes wondering between them started to embarrass me . I glanced at the other side of the train, another pair of mother and daughter were sitting there. seem to be from an Indian origin but a few generations in the UK, fashionably matching gap clothes and a similar bob hairdu , were closer to me and still I felt somehow closer to my first pair, maybe cause I could have noticed their smiles . The girl on the other side had a big blue helium Balloon attached to her wrist , instead of a gold bracelet . She kept on bouncing it every time she talked to her mom explaining with short hand gestures ideas she had in mind. That blue balloon took me to another place again. Were children run in an open park, holding balloons in different colors and releasing their parent’s hopes to the free air, a live sight of naivety and life. I switched my glance to his blue eyes .will you let me be Naive and hopeful again?. Why can’t I resist those eyes when they choose to penetrate me? Why cant I imagine our blue eyes, brown hair child playing with Samira in the park?.
Our train arrived to Aldgate east when Samira and her mom gave each other a big hug. The drops of rain outside the window slipping in the stations with no roof made it feel like winter came into our carriage. I wanted my mom to be there with me , approving my choices with her big brown hug .
