Tag History

All vows – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 31 Comments

kol_nidre_in_the_machzor_of_worms

Let us celebrate ourselves

Let us forgive ourselves

Let us rejoice in our imperfections

Let us be perfect despite (because of) our crack’d carapaces

and (despite) because of our fissured souls

Let us be gentle to ourselves

Let us speak softly, kindly to ourselves

Let us do all of those things

and yet strive to be better, next year.

Let us do all of those things

for ourselves, for others

Let us be who we are.

Let us be.

Tonight on dVerse Poetics, the wonderful Walt asks us to celebrate. We can mark a special national or international day, a day of faith (or no faith), or just celebrate our lives.

I have chosen to mark Kol Nidre, in my own very liberal Jewish way. Yom Kippur is marked by the Kol Nidre service at the (evening) start of this holiest of holy days. Translated, the Aramaic of Kol Nidre (meaning ‘All vows’)  annuls any personal or religious oaths or prohibitions made by you to God for the next year, so as to  avoid the sin of breaking vows made to God which cannot be, or are not upheld.

I have taken this and turned it into a celebration of our glorious imperfections, of the brokenness of being human. Make of it what you will – I enjoyed writing it very much.

I’m looking forward to reading what others have chosen to celebrate over on dVerse – why not take a look?

Cabaret – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 38 Comments

liza_minnelli_1973_special

Wikipedia

 

Greasepaint and glitter and show me your thighs

encased in the finest of silks.

Tip me the wink, girl,

sashay on over,

wrap yourself around that lucky ole chair

step on the seat back,

tip it on over

run your fingers through that brassy blond wig.

Bite your cherry red lip,

pout in my direction,

flutter your eyelashes

to hide who you truly are.

(But I can see through you

I can unravel the secret inside).

You hope I don’t know you.

you think you are hidden,

but I have the list

and your name is right here.

‘Jude’ runs right through you

and it’s only a matter of time

until that old gold star

emblazons itself on your skin,

until the flames devour you

and you join the planets spangling above.

‘Til then my sweet hussy

dance for your life.

 

This week on dVerse Poetics, Lillian invites us to write, inspired by the words razzle, dazzle and sparkle. Hmm… this immediately took me to one of my favourite films of all time – Cabaret. I love it for the music, the clever lyrics and (this won’t be a surprise to those who know me) the period of history and where it is set, in Berlin.

The dark brooding presence of the Nazis is so well-entwined with the hedonistic feel of pre-war Berlin’s cabaret scene, it haunts me. So my idea of razzle, dazzle and sparkle is inextricably interwoven with that, I’m afraid. Hey ho – I never claimed to be anything but a dark writer, except on occasion!

Please do head on over to dVerse and enjoy the work of other poets!

Gentleman – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 27 Comments
SONY DSC

From Wikipedia

He was a small man of pensionable age

unassuming,

smiling hesitantly, almost apologetic.

I was a young woman, my first time abroad on my own

and yet we connected

waiting in the queue to enter.

Would I show him around?

Would I explain what we were looking at?

Would I help?

 

I was honoured.

An old (to me, then) distinguished gentleman

entrusting his experience of this place

to me, but a girl, and not a native of Amsterdam.

Seriously, what could I offer him?

And yet, he insisted that the honour was all his.

 

And so, we inched forward,

sometimes in silence, sometimes not,

the silences becoming more meaningful

as he shared some of his history with me.

 

How he had lost his family in the horror that was

Hiroshima.

How he was the only survivor by chance,

by circumstance.

 

And so

every day was to be valued

every person he met was to be treated with kindness

everyone, everyone

deserved a good life.

Nobody was to be forgotten.

 

I was honoured

I was humbled

I was valued

I was not forgotten.

He gave my life more meaning on that day,

infused my experience of Anne Frank’s House

with so much more

than I had ever imagined.

 

Travel. It does that.

 

Today, over on dVerse Poetics, Lillian asks us to share our travel experiences in poetry form.

I have been to quite a few places in my adult life, I’ve been lucky to see many things, enjoy fine architecture, immerse myself in history, in culture, in other ‘worlds’, but this personal connection stands tall above them all. I am so pleased that I read Anne Frank’s diary over and over again from my pre-teen days so that I could colour this distinguished gentleman’s visit with some human colour, along with the facts. We met as strangers, and parted as friends who had shared part of our lives with each other. I am sure he has passed on now, but he will live on in my memory, for sure. To trust a young stranger with such an important visit (and he told me that he felt he had no choice but to visit Anne Frank’s House in his whirlwind trip to Europe) – well, I owe him a huge debt of honour.

Please do head on over to dVerse to discover more travel experiences and why not share your own?