Poem -Seine Insane

Seine Insane

In gay Paree

Along the River Seine.

There is a man,

I cannot explain.

In full view of Thousands,

With fantastic zest.

He dives from Bridges,

Fully dressed.

In winter, when the River’s,

Icy cold.

He puts on a show

Amazingly Bold.

He pirouettes along the parapets

Escapes the Gendarmes.

Swallow dives into the river.

In to his Mother’s arms.

Every time I see him

I say again and again.

This crazy Frenchman,

I’m sure is in Seine.

By Hillie Feldman

Published in Voices Israel Poetry.  Best poems of 2005

I'd Do It

I'd Do It

If I could live a thousand years,
         and share again the love and tears
                   Ive shared with you these many years
               I'd Do It.

If I could laugh the way we laughed
              or tease or squeeze as we oft' times chaffed
                     or lie with you beside the hearth
              I'd Do It

We shared our Spring and Summer too.
             The autumn leaves are now sa few,
                    If I could share our winters too
              I'd Do It

By Hillie Feldman   7th February 1980

It's All Just Talk

 It's All Just Talk

We sit at a table eat our meal and talk.

As there are at least five of us assembled,

The conversation is mundane and goes nowhere,

Until someone comes in with an item of news

That makes everyone sit up and take notice.

This is Israel and its 2002 and no end of excitement.

One of our people just arrived back by Bus

And was witness to Police cars and Ambulances

 Flying by on their way to Beit Shean, a place she

Had visited only an hour before.

She had brought a small radio-set with her and

Right on 12.00 we hear the broadcast.

Two armed terrorists had shot up a crowd

Of voters standing in a queue outside the

Polling booth, killing many, and wounding many more.

The report said that the Terrorists had both been killed.

further news would be reported as soon as available.

We discussed her narrow escape from trouble,

And everyone now had to tell a story of recent

Or distant, escapes, in which they had participated.

Sometimes we discussed Philosophy, Pornography

History, The Cinema, Art, Personal Health, Operations,

Past and Present, the weather, Rainfall, Thunder,

Lightening, Hail, Snow, Cyclones and Chamsins.

Arafat and Sharon, The Likud and Muslims.

We talked about Hannukah mentioned Ramadan

And Xmas would all fall round about the same time.

Another year would soon be over and we counted,

Our years and realized that siting around the table

The youngest of us was 78, and the oldest was,

Heading for 90 by far the oldest folk,

                      On the Kibbutz

 by Hillie Feldman 10 December 2002

Moon Light Romance

 Moon Light Romance

I’m a teenage kid from the Rio-Grande

There’s something in my life I’d love to understand.

Why I’ve fallen in love with the Man in the Moon?

And how I’m ever going to get that love to bloom.

I have spoken to Space Folk, about a Rocket Trip

To the man I greatly desire,  I’m shy to tell them,

That just dreaming of him, sets my blood on fire.

Space Folk say, No, No, you cannot go.

Until, we know you better.

I’ve received a letter from Space Station Mars

You know, one of the most brilliant Stars,

They have a space rocket travelling soon,

Once in six Months, home, via the Moon.

Pay one Million Dollars, supply your own Space suit,

The deal, they said, would suit them fine,

All meals on the house, including superb Wines

Now all I need is the Dollars and Dimes.

A newspaper group, the Noon Gazette heard of my plight,

We’ll be happy to sponsor your Romantic Moon Flight

As long as we get the exclusive rights, the love affair

Including all photos of the happy pair.

With huge international fan fare, we landed on the Moon,

Ticker Tape, wild applause, and a New Moon Tune.

In a golden silk frock, space suit, haute couture, designed

I rushed out, my Moon man to find.

There he was, frozen stiff, carved in blue rock

It will take me the rest of my life to get over the shock.

by Hillie Feldman 7th  January 2002

Poem - WHAT NOW DREAMER

  WHAT NOW DREAMER

I lay on the bank of a stream in the shade of a willow.

A beautiful warm spring day, with birds chattering and singing

Dragonflies hovering over the water, bees buzzing, the sky a

Brilliant blue, with the occasional snow-while clouds, drifting by.

The Kinneret flashing in a bright sunlight, only a mile from my

Peaceful nest, hardly stirred, as gentle winds moved slowly over

 the huge mirror, I fell asleep and dreamed of a peaceful World.

Flowers, butterflies, bird song, cascading rivers, and rainbows.

I awoke to the shattering noise of machine guns and bombs

Coming to me from a nearby hill, in a moment I crawled

Under the trailing branches of a willow, well-hidden I waited

Hoping that the gunmen would not come my way.

My dreams shattered I agonized over why there had to be blood

And death and suffering, when in the end, someone would have to sit

  down and negotiate, before both opponents destroyed each other.

In a war that promised no winner.

Up and down Israel in every corner of the land,

Snipers, bombers ride-by murderers, take their toll

Blood and tears to much for anyone to bear.

Ambulances streak through the streets carrying loads

Of, stricken humanity, Doctors, Nurses run off their feet.

In Gaza and Rammallah, Jenin, in the refugee camps, Balata, Jabalya

Spread over the PLO territory, there too, death meets the eye.

Wrecked building, burned out vehicles, torn up roads, blood,

Gore, everywhere, the price to be paid for this awful senseless war.

Today again a suicide bomber wreaked a terrible harvest of death.

In reply helicopter gunships, planes and artillery, rained hell on the PLO.

Oceans of blood, ruined lives, broken hearts, weeping, cursing,

Nothing will help until we meet round a table.

"Right now I would like to get back to my exquisite dreams of Peace."

 By Hillie Feldman 5th March 2003

Porm =A Wise Little Lamb

A Wise Little Lamb

Ann had a little lamb
Who joined her at school each day
And when the children went to play,
She studied her computer.

At Latin and Greek she was amazing
French and English  learned at speed
Maths' and Algebra no trouble at all
Calculus a mere waterfall.

Her knowledge was praised to the skies
No one could pull the wool over her eyes.
Ann's little lamb won the school's annual prize
Which brought tears and happiness to everyones eyes.

By Hillie Feldman  28th March 2001

U.N.O.

                             U.N.O.

Maybe you know the latest buzz at the Uno

   Is that Goliath has become a Jew

  And that David in a version of completely new

  Is the little P.L.O. so weak and so few.

Of course it’s a known fact that the Arabs

  Already have 99.9% of the Middle East

  But their appetite grows like active yeast

  And will not be satisfied until they have the lot

                and we less than the least.

By Hillie Feldman  29^th October 2000

"All I could say was Oi Oi VAY"

" All I could say was Oi, Oi, VAY"

It was all rush, scoot, scurry, hasten and flurry

We were at the airport in a terrific hurry

As usual we had left things more than a little late,

Our taxi driver, a lunatic, with an urgent date

Was going to prove that he could get there on time, NOT LATE.

At the wheel, he was king of all he surveyed

Stop street, TRAFFIC SIGNS, were no import to this guy,

He tore round corners leaving long lines, dazed,

Pedestrians who thought their time had come, to die.

He over-took everything, hugging the crown.

While on-coming traffic failed to deny

This juggernaut, with flashing eye, and screeching horn

Chased every car, until a 3 Story high,

Bore down on us, like a threatening storm.

Without a second's hesitation, not a word did he say

With two wheels on the tarmac, two on display,

   shock absorbers moaning, he returned to our lane

   almost touching the side of the speeding “Train”

As he changed direction, with no change of speed

   all of our insides shook like a reed.

Behind us we could hear screeching, brakes, and a thump-

Metal crumpled as wrecked cars joined the dump.

We flew on like the wind, pleading with him to go slow

“You will get us all killed” my wife bellowed,

“beseder” he said “it’s OK we are nearly there, now”

We dashed up to the AIRPORT “never ever again,”

I paid him his fare plus 20 more, I wasn’t sure, that he was sane

I packed a trolley, rushed the family through the door

Arriving at the Counter in time, if not before

“Bangkok?”  Sorry Sir, there’s a two hour delay.

All I could say was Oi, Oi, VAY"

Hillie Feldman 24th April 2000

Where lies the truth

 Where lies the truth

I listen carefully to all the conversations around me,

To stories, myths, mysticism and “Bobbe Meises”

Exaggerations, tall tales, fabrications, and fairy tales.

Deceit, misrepresentation, lies and damned lies.

       I wonder where lies the truth.

I’ve a soft touch for salesmen with all sorts of wares.

Been sold, encyclopedias, which lack info I need.

Mattresses whose springs give way to an early autumn,

Heaters that never see a single winter,

      and summer shades that shrivel in the heat.

Been sold shares that died an unnatural death, the day after.

Books that are totally dissimilar the outer cover blurb.

Holiday accommodation with a glorious view of the sea.

if I stand on a stepladder and crane my neck enough,

                   to see a patch of the blue.

But worst of all a taxi driver who took me for a ride.

Quoted me thirty shekels for a normal eleven shekel trip.

And then short changed me, with trickery, turning my

Fifty shekel note, into twenty, demanding that I pay another ten.

A lying bastard, a bandit, and a highwayman.

There are politicos who make election promises that are never kept,

Presidents, swearing their way into immediate perjury.

Lawyers who part  you of your money, like taking toffee from kids.

International accountants, who Crook the Books, for a handsome fee.

Corruption so rife, that Mafia professionals, struggle to compete.

So many liars in the world around, crooks, twisters and thieves,

Honest men are not easily found. I often ask myself

                    "Where lies the truth."

by Hillie Feldman  22 January 2002

The Dead Sea

The Salty Sea

The sea is salty 

With all the tears

Mankind has shed.

Even saltier still 

and dead as can be, 

Is the sea of salt

Known to all as the Dead Sea.

by Hillie Feldman

------------------------------

Wealth and Death

He was as wealthy as Croesus

Owned ships on the sea

Had money in the bank

the banks belonged to him.

He had homes in many cities

and country houses too 

Diamonds, Jewels and Rubies 

and a Cockatiel or two.

He had horses in the stables

Employed people who were able 

to make more and more gold 

And wealth that would unfold

only after his death.

He heard that death was after him

leaving all behind him 

he dropped out of sight.

After six months or more

Not daring to show his face

at any place he was known.

he stayed away from 

his banks and businesses

and stayed away from home

At last destitute and tired 

he lay down in the dust to rest

Death appeared suddenly and

Said to him.

Hillie Feldman 7th August 1980

Edited from manuscript by Ronnie Feldman.

CONTRASTING THOUGHTS

 CONTRASTING THOUGHTS

I walk along a garden path passed sculptured stone.

Winding past the Chadar Ochel towards my inviting home

And being alone, I safely talk to myself

About so many contrasts, light and shade, life and death.

Out kibbutz, on the foothills of Gilboa

Overlook the fabulous beautiful, Jezreel valley

Despite murder mayhem Israel suffers

We are a like a limpid pool in a safe backwater.

Regularly our media relates the devastation of the day

Everyday Israeli funerals quiet weeping mourners.

Over the green line, parades of weeping, screaming, screeching

Ululating Armed Arabs follow the coffins.

Summer time, heat burns -- an open oven.

Shady trees beckon, deep shadows fall

In distance Jerusalem,  murderous shot and shell.

No Peace,  blood and death no heaven -- hell.

So hot, no birds sing or dogs bark, even our gecko looks dead.

I think better out in the heat before I’m burned to a shred

Sink thankfully in to my usual chair cooled by swishing fan.

Will there ever be Peace in this troubled land.

This week Israel declares a Unilateral Ceasefire

PLO states this is an Israeli PR lie.

We hold back while they pick us off like pigeons.

But the fates bode ill for them. Israel will flex its muscles.

And then let G-d help us bring this to a peaceful end.

Late news          Discotheque Massacre.

A queue of youngster torn apart by a suicide’s bomb

Tel Aviv’s luxurious Mediterranean front.

Where tourist come to relax, sit in the sun

Our teenagers came for an evening of fun.

An ocean of tears cannot remove the pain or anguish

And yet we still hope for Peace while we mourn the dead.

by Hillie Feldman June 2001

The Poet and The Tramp

The Poet and The Tramp

Where the flowers and the birds

 give a sense of peace

 and the warm spring wind

 whispers to the trees.

On a sunlit bench

 in a sun filled park

 is where this gentleman

 tramp met me.

His horny hands his tattered coat

 his ragged pants, scarf at throat

 his worn out boots, with turned up toes

 could not detract from the wonderful glow

 that poured from a face marked with much woe

Yet a face with a face with a friendly smile.

Where I sat by myself in my peaceful world.

He sat himself without a word,

 gave a thankful sigh - nodded his head

 loosed knotted shoestring of worn out thread

 while he smiled at the scene and fluttering bird.

After a long drawn silence,

 he turned his head

 graying hair with tints of red

 gold-gray moustache

 and silvery beard

 the sparkling sun wreathed round his head.

Looking about with a smile

 he said to me,

 what wonderful feeling, it is to be free

 to be able in peace - to sit back and look on,

 at the frantic world and the scurrying throng,

 to withdraw while able  no longer to face

 a crazy world, and its crazy rat race.

With a faraway look in his wise old eyes

 he spoke of other land and foreign skies

 of Eton and Harrow and Hitler’s war

 the early excitement, the battle’s roar.

He spoke of the hell, of leading his men

 of many who never came back again.

For a while he gave a pause

 averted his face

I could see the cause,

were the tears I could trace

as they flowed into his beard.

On evil night had wrecked his life

 bombs on Coventry had killed his wife

 two sons, his home - all were gone

leaving him shattered - completely alone.

For a year or more he had gone beserk

 picked up the pieces returned to work

 returned to life, grew rich and strong

 worked 16 hours -  all week long.

Yet could not with labour, effort or strain

riches or luxury erase the pain

or the shadows of the awful night.

At last he decided to - his life revamp

 gave up all his possessions his fair - weather friends

 and took to the road as a tramp.

Commuting with nature

 knowing folk at their worst

 frustration - deprivation

 hunger and thirst

 many moon did he travel

 up and down many lands

‘Til finally he burned out his hatred of Man.

---a passing bird hovered ---hearing nature’s call

 splattered the tramp with it's aerial fall,

 undaunted his laughter made the echoes ring

 as he left me, he called out ---

“For the rich -  they Sing”

by Hillie Feldman  13th April 2000
Published in The Grapevine

Reincarnation Shivers - Poetry foundation

 Reincarnation Shivers

A shiver crept up and down my spine
Yet the midday sun was scorching hot
and even the foliage of the deep green trees
drooped with exhaustion trying to hold
the succulence gathered in the leaves
from the power of the relentless orb in the sky.

Soldiers on the shore leave, for the day, still rolling
like sailors from the unending dip and rise
of the deep green sea and the roaring waves along
the coast of east Africa where the warm currents flow
and the tropical jungles come down to the sea
Arab Dhows breasting the waves enter Mombasa.

From the port to the Town we followed the unpaved road
Ghostly visions of years gone by like a mirage
appeared to my eyes alone and before we reached
the next corner leading to the main road of the city
a scene appeared to me of what lay ahead, so vividly
that I stopped my two companion and said to them.

I have never been out of South Africa before this
yet I have and eery feeling I have been here before
I know exactly what we are going to see when we
turn the next corner and if you let me I will tell you.
They laughed uproariously and told me that I
was trying to pull their legs, play the fool with them.

Then seeing how serious I looked and a little nervous too
They said go ahead and if it is not as you describe
You must undertake to pay for our lunches today.
and if I am right you two are going to pay for mine
All agree we walked around the corner and all of us
stood for a long time in absolute shock at the scene.

by Hillie Feldman 27th January 1999

Waiting for Inspiration

 Waiting for Inspiration

I raise my pen ready to write

As soon as Inspiration decides to award me 

With wonderful new thoughts, of dreams. 

I’ll be able to undertake many themes...

Why should I look at blank walls.

Which give me nothing in return.

The same goes for ceilings and floors.

Nothing comes in or out of closed doors.

Where am I to look for inspiration.

Perusing a batch of paintings

I have been busy with of late.

I’m tempted to drop this poem

And return to my artist’s palette.

My latest issue of the Nation Geographic

Catches my eye, in a moment I am lost 

In a story of Asian Lions exuding vitality.

And no small measure of charm

Do Asian Lions still exist?

Now I am with Marco Polo on his journey

Through  Deserts, over Mountains from Venice

To far away mysterious China, in 1274.

I see through his eyes the exotic people 

He met as Grand Courier to Kublai Khan.

In my mind’s eye, I see Genghis Kahn

in all his magnificent splendour,

Hundreds and thousands of horsemen.

Spread over the plains, East to West.

Cities grown rich in Silk, Spices and Jewels

Genghis, Kublai’s Grandfather.

King, Czar, Caeser, Emperor.

Still waiting for inspiration I see clouds

Spiral and fall, float and stall.

Shapes unbelievable, Cirrus, Cumulus

Stratus, Nimbus, full sails for wind,

Celestial ships crossing the sky…

Though I never left my favorite seat,

And Inspiration and I failed to meet.

Imagination, and Dreams joined the fleet

Taking me on a virtual flight.

 By Hillie Feldman   4th February 2002

DAYMARE AND HISTORY

DAYMARE AND HISTORY

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A NIGHTMARE

that caused your blood to run cold 

your hair to stand on end

your heart to be set aquiver 

to be so paralysed with fear  

that not a shout or scream 

could leave your throat.

Could sweat, cramped limbs

Pain in the guts and then

uncontrollable shakes , that 

left you in terror or your own shadow.

A Daymare however is ever 

so much more pleasant. 

I took a walk

along the kibbutz Main road.

followed a rough winding track

to our dam

the highest point of the escarpment

top of the dam wall.

From the foothills of the Gilboa,

the valley of Jezreel lay far below me,

as pretty as a picture,

an artist's dream

In the far distance the route like an arrow 

made its way from Beit Shean to Afula

and onwards westwards to Haifa

Tel Aviv Road.

Suddenly I saw Army after Army marching 

Hitites , Amalekites , Phoenicians, Chaldeans,

Egyptians Greeks and Romans Assyrians Crusaders

Turks French and British

a moment of glory , gone , into the mists of history.

by Hillie Feldman.  4th January 1999

THE TOWER BLOCK RESCUE

THE TOWER BLOCK RESCUE

Towards the wind swept heights

of the Tower Block

The gathering crowd

looked up with shock

At the forlorn figure

perched way up high

swaying in the breeze

Preparing to die.

Police, Ambulance Men, Traffic Cops

Firemen, Nurses even Bell Hops, 

Push back the crowds 

who continually pour 

from office blocks and surrounding shops.

Drawn by the horror, anticipation, fear

afraid to see, but struggling to be near.

The drama about to unfold.

The Lunatic Fringe, the asses rump 

Scream crazily, go on, jump, jump, jump.

The figure on the parapet, teeters, seemingly set to obey

While little old ladies cry and pray.

A sudden silence the mob are quiet

The high action draws every eye,

To where four figures now converge

crawling like flies on the awful edge

to save this youth in distress.

Suddenly in unison all four act

with hands and arms like a well trained pack 

Screaming and crying they dragged him back

For a second chance of life.

From way below comes the shuddering sigh,

and shouts of relief echo high.

The crowd melt the show is "klaar"

They took him away in a black Police car

Leather Jacket astride his brand new "Iron"

Calls to Takkies Veldtskoen and other swine

"Ag man pity the stopped him die” 

Ja-shame-hey" comes the reply

Revving up he nonchalantly rode away

For "Joeys" it was just another day.

by Hillie Feldman  27th December1998

Rewrite of poem from 1980

QUALITY TIME

  NEW POETRY

QUALITY TIME

Why is it that really busy people 

Have time for everything

While characters like me, 

Need at least a weeks’ notice,

To even begin to think of tackling, 

           A new Topic….

I sit back in sheer astonishment watching him,

In his book-lined carpeted, mahogany leather

Inset, huge, luxurious desk, office,

Bright colored phones internal communication

Broad-casting systems, Walking and talking.

Letters and notes pour into his in-basket 

Secretaries pop in to empty his out mail

He writes, he scribbles, he calculates, he swivels.

Checks his computer, calls for a file, answers,

One more phone, talking in lower tone.

Freddie Smythe an honored client urgently 

to see him, has no time to wait.

He signals me to take a drink, and he and Freddie, 

Greet and enter adjoining office, to discuss,

                Their Super Deal….

Ten minutes later he comes back smiling,

"I’ve closed a deal, that will make a company history,"

“Its big, boy is it big, one of my very best”….

“Time to celebrate” and his eyes shine, 

He and I call out “le Chaim.”

When I left he was still talking, moving, shouting,

He had been on the go from 7.30 a m, or so,.

I looked at the clock it was 6p. m.

No chance that he’ll be home before nine

No time to live, no time to dine.

I left him making his fortune, 

While I was homeward bound,

Off to a very different kind of tune,

Like hugs and kisses all around

Hello Honey, Hi kids I’m home,. 

Oh Boy, what a Joy

QUALITY TIME

By Hillie Feldman, 9th August 2000

NIMROD's CHATTERING TELEPHONE

 NIMROD's CHATTERING TELEPHONE

It's amazing to me that everytime I am busy

doing something I really want to do

This red Machine from Hell, loudly rings a Bell

and a chattering voice reminds me that I have to be

at a rugby practice, a Basket Ball practice or Musica

I climb into bed at night, tired from an active day.

I fall asleep straight away, Thank G-d for a little peace.

But you guessed right, its not to be, the red devil rings

I am as grumpy as an angry cat......Hello I yell at the top

of my Voice you will notice I’m cross of course.

Who is speaking and what do you want, I want to know,

He says this is your old friend Shmuel Yankelo

I shout at him I don’t know you at all, its a wrong number,

You’ve got a wrong number. So why do you waste my time

answering wrong Numbers, and he puts the phone

down on me. I counted one hundred and exploded.

Today is a wonderful day, the start of two months school

                                 HOLIDAYS.

I spend hours chattering to all my friend about plans for

our free time, who was making a decent party and how we

would get there, and who was going with whom.

My Red Phone smiled at me, and I smiled back,

A wonderful friend on the right track.

By Hillie Feldman for my grandson. undated

Reflections Johannesburg 1948

         Reflections Johannesburg 1948

Suddenly the eerie stillness of night's
darkest hour is shattered by fingers of light
playing on natures keyboard a symphony to
                the new born day.
The shrill rising and falling cry of a rooster
                greeting the Dawn.
song of the birds in Trees and Hedge Rows
The cluck of hens- a dog's excited barking
as he chases the ghosts of his recent dreams.
a concert of cats announcing their return
from the tiles.
Two black watchmen greeting the new day.

The high shrieking blast of a factory siren
a whistle and thud thud of the distant goods train.

The noise of a car struggling up the hill,
a swish of tyres on the tarmac.
The putt putt of a scooter winding its way
past the mine dumps.

An aeroplane zooming in for a dawn landing.

Mine hooters long and loud frightening away
the darkness of the night.

And then the growing volume of all the city's
noises blending into one indefinable mass of
                             Sound.

For the Golden Reef- a new day has begun.

by Hillie Feldman  26 December 1998

Poem- Our Comrades in Arms

        EPITAPH

FOREVER REMEMBERED

Our Comrades in Arms

So Young Departed 

                                Words on Marble 

                                Mark Your Passing

                                but The Pain of Your loss

                                Even Fifty Years Later Now

                                Is Engraved in our Hearts.
by Hillie Feldman

--------------------

 COMRADES IN ARMS

There is not a single day since '41 that I do not re-call

My staunchest companions one and all

Who died alongside me in the hell of those days 

On the battle field, of Sidi Rezegh,

In the Western desert, outside Tobruk

So Young, so Vital, so full of fun, and then, so utterly destroyed 

Yet to me they are still alive and even thought I shed many silent tears 

Over these many years, their laughter still rings in my ears

Their boisterousness, Sincerity, and comradeship, 

                     Will never be forgotten.

by Hillie Feldman  November 96

-----------------

Poems - to my sweetie Bridges of Dreams

A Poem to my Sweetie Pie

One yellow Rose
from a fellow who grows
More in love
With every day.

Your tea is ready too
With biscuits not quite new
To create more of you
For my love.

Just a little smile
From you
Will make all my dreams
Come true

A laugh is better still
To warm us when its chill
And the birds have gone to sleep
For the night.                                  by Hillie Feldman undated


Bridges of Dreams

Spanning all- Spanning all!
Over all he years,
Of grief and sorrow
And unquenchable  Tears.

Bridges of dreams
Oft' Times Nightmares
When Horror upon Horror
Brought back long forgotten Fears.

Moments of misery
When all is Murky Black
Labyrinths of Pain
A Mental Torture Wrack.

Down the long Dark Road
An Avenue He Dreads
Burdened by His Loads
Lonely traveler Treads.  

Slowly the Picture Brightens
The Moon Beams are back
Everywhere  the Landscape Lightens
Silvering the Travellers Track.

In the Broad Moonlight
Gone are Fears and Sorrow
Hope, now in sight
For a Bright New Tomorrow.

 by Hillie Feldman   September 1979

Poem - All my life

 All  my life

All  my life

I sought to do good,

not for totally unselfish reasons,

the satisfaction

that came to me

when someone said

you did a fabulous thing for me

and I'll never forget it.

Or someone young

looking far away

to make a living,

and I satisfied

with my life.

Took joy in giving

him or her tips

how to go about their business.

Giving advice, examples, addresses,

even introductions.

By telephones by notes

or even accompanying them

so that they could share

my established goodwill

with the people in the field

they needed to meet for

their advancement.

Sometimes I was dejected

by the thankless.

The people who having

 arrived and no longer

 needing me sought

not to know me

and to tell me

that you never helped..

It was all done by

their own initiative

hard work and overall ability.

Yet with all that

I knew the clew.

I still feel today

that I could write

or say,

I am one of those

who through all the years

even into old age

has loved his fellow man.        By Hillie Feldman circa 1980

                                                  Edited by Ronnie Feldman

---------------

You moved too quickly

I am I and You are You

I wonder if well ever meet

I 'v said a little prayer

to make our match complete.

I stood in a shop window

looking out onto the street

you stopped and stared

into the shop - I knew our eyes would meet.

For a moment in time which

seemed for ever,

a smile filled your face

a little nod, you stole my heart

and you were gone.

I dashed out into the crowd

and tried to catch you up

that very moment a bus pulled away,

I caught a glimpse and you

                      were gone.                          By Hillie Feldman circa 1980

                                                                  Edited by Ronnie Feldman