Poem - OSSIFIED ANTIQUES

  OSSIFIED ANTIQUES

I cannot deny that I ossify

From head to toe

As old age creeps on I find

Myself getting kind of slow.

Where hairs on my head that

Were gray have turned to snow

My beard has reached my belly

Button and continues to grow

And although I do my utmost

Not even to show. It seems

To take a lot longer when I have to

For me to get up and go.

My hearing aid helps me

To hear what you have to say.

If you talk loud and long enough

And it’s the right time of day.

My steps meander down the road

As I change from foot to foot

But I always stick to some remembered route

Although it’s difficult for me to remember

Where I have been or why.

They tell me I will be ninety in a few days’ time

Apart from my hearing aid my stick and my

Memory I am doing fine.  Often when I sit in the park

Watching the girls go by I think of times of time of

Long ago before I became ossified.

by Hillie Feldman August 1998

Poem -VALENTINE

 VALENTINE

I want you to be my Valentine.

You’re thin and scraggy ...but so divine.

I know that you're only seventy two.

But for years and years I’ve only wanted you.

I’ve thought of you lately

Both day and night and decided that

      You must be Mr. Right.

If only I could remember why I started this rhyme.

 you and I could have a wonderful time.

FROM AN ADMIRER ....84 TODAY.

 By Hillie Feldman 14th February 1984

Poem- Murmurs of War

Murmurs of  War

They spoke of Peace
they prayed for peace but
war was no longer far away
not in Bosnia or Chechen
no distant place far beyond the horizon
but now you heard every day
words of anger accusations
threats on radio on T.V.
headlines loud angry hostile.

Already the Vultures and Hyenas were gathering
The B.B.C. and other friends of Israel smelt blood
and came along to stir the pot to make sure that
no-one would be dissapointed. Of course they used the
proper language. They stated the case fairly for bothe sides
butter would not melt in their mouths yet you could feel
at the end of the dispatch that war was around the
corner and no longer in some far away place.

Tomorrow Arafat would march in an act of difiance
to test the waters and to see whether the new Government
would be able to handle this challange to their authority.

by Hillie Feldman 29 August 1996

Poem - 80 Years young.

                80 Years young.

I remember a curly haired child

Loved and protected midst a

Loving family of brothers, sisters

Dogs and cats, a wonderful

  Warm world.

When I was five years old

Locust arrived in the millions,

 Flew on my face, in my hair

I ran for cover, while they

Gobbled up every green, living thing.

I still remember, a strapping young man

Going to war as proud as a peacock,

Of his beret and tartan Kilts, Transvaal Scottish,

Aching feet and a heavy gun and months

Of parade ground, they said you’re done.

Kenya, forest green, cloying mud unceasing rains,

Lava rocks, and explosive heat, low bush, dry streams

Flying bullets, machine guns rattle.

Ethiopia another battle.

The stench of death, so sad, yet we won.

The Western desert and Saharan scenes,

The angle of death hovering nearby

No time for tears or even to cry

Your friends amongst the dead or dying

Too busy to even say goodbye.

A wall of broken tanks and twisted guns

Burning trucks under a burning sun

Jerry has broken through, our ammo gone,

Word comes through you are on your own,

A failed escape and you are in the bag.

The wind blew away, years and days,

Autumn leaves drifting to earth

The calendar riffling through many seasons,

Vivid green, multi colors, orange and gold.

          Winter snows bitterly cold.

The children grow as fast as we did,

The wife and I agree, so we move over

To make space for the next generation

It all went so fast she said you’re 80 now

And were still having lots of fun, I said.

By Hillie Feldman  28th August 1999
To my sister Bubbles with love.

Poem -PEGASUS OR FLY BY NIGHT

  Pegasus or Fly by Night

you don’t have to be serious to write poetry

you just have to have lots of fun and follow Lewis Carrol,

or Charles L. Dodgson if you so wish

"Now that you mention it I will have fish"

Even invent your own words songs or swords

Which definitely won’t get you into the house of lords

and be assured that the nautical night need not leave us at sea

BUT BETTER AQUANTED BECAUSE OF OUR DEvILRY.

WE COULD LET YOUR IMAMGINATIONS FLY

 MOUNT OUR STURDY STEEDS  

 Pegasus TO THE MOON

 FLOAT AMONG THE STARS

 LEAP OVER MARS AND NEPTUNE

 RACE WITH THE WIND AND CLOUDS

 OR GALLOP TO THE MILKY WAY

 WHERE WE COULD PLAY HIDE AND SEEK

 IN AMONGST A BILLION DIAMOND

 STREWn;  PATHS OF BRILLIANT LIGHT.

WITH THE SPEED OF LIGHT 

HEAVEN AND earth WOULD BE OURS.

MOUNTAINS LAKES RIVERS AND JUNGLES,

WOULD CROSS IN A FLASH, OCEANS

deserts AND CONTINENTS IN A MERE DASH,

AND FINALLY WEARY WITH OUR TRAVELS

THROUGHT ETERNAL SPACE, WE WOULD GENTLY

FLOAT DOWN TO OUR RESTING PLACE,

   AND LEAVE PEGASUS TO GO HIS WAY.

                         THE END

by Hillie Feldman August 1996

Poem - Memories of Africa

Memories of Africa

Amazing! I glance at a much loved object and the veil

of the years disappears like smoke wafted away

by the winds of time and that old brass bell

fashioned by craftsmen in Africa long years ago

is being sold to me by an itinerant Indian man bright eyed and

attentive. I pay I smile I say goodbye and now it is 30 years later.

On the old oak sideboard marked by the patina of time

 rests a pair of Indian brass slippers ---Mombasa floods back now

exotic fragrance, spices of Zanzibar fill my nostrils -- A romantic

moment, she turns to me, big eyes wide open tell me to buy, so I

exchange a slipper for a kiss.

Forty years ago and she still looks fabulous.

A collection, a miniature brass bucket, a tiny pair of brass

candlesticks and a miniature brass kettle grouped together,

a look of old gold caught our eye when we wandered into a tiny shop,

Simonstown where the Navy gathers in big bay at the Cape, a

Souvenir we told ourselves, anyway the sales lady was lovely, forty 
five years later we still remember her smile.

A hard wood bowl and lid--- Our tourist trip around the Eastern

 Transvaal, the Game Reserve, Long Tom Pass, Grassmere, Bridal Veil 
Falls, we saw them all. We meandered past forested mountains and

old gold diggings, where ghosts still dig for the elusive treasure and

the winter wind howl through the abandoned mines until we 
reached Pilgrims Rest where a huge shop devoted to Souvenirs 
found this Pillbox of wood, we have used these many years.

 by Hillie Feldman  July 1996

Poem - So Very Much Alone

So Very Much Alone

The trees are black
The streets so bleak
Autumn brown the grass

The bright blue skies
Give no hint
That the winters her at last

The Autumn leaves
Are sear and crisp
And fall in steady showers

Stirred up by playful winds
They spin along the silent streets
And scatter through the flowers.

When evening comes the bitter cold
Everywhere the mist enfolds
Ghostly figures hurry home
Some so very much alone
Alone alone for endless hours.

by Hillie Feldman  August 23rd 1996

Poem SAFER UPSTAIR

SAFER UPSTAIR

If Space is matched
by irrevocable time
And Time and Tide
Wait for no Man

Man had better find
His Place in Space
Before another Mightier
Tsunami hits the Deck

Consult Noah

by Hillie Feldman 6th January 2005

Poem - Ode to a stone

Ode to a stone

Round and smooth
Almost marble white - alabaster
You could perhaps have lain
On the battle field for centuries
Where the Philisine's mighty Goliath
Challenged the best
Of Israel to a duel

And when at last
A young small lad
Stepped forward to do battle
With the Giant Goliath
The Philistines fell about laughing
At the puny challenger
To their mighty man of war.

Picking you up
Round and smooth
Almost marble white - alabaster
David put you in his sling
And whirling the leather thong
Approved by God
Around his head
He sent the messenger of death
True and straight
To crack Goliath's skull

And claiming victors rights
David strode to where Goliath
LAY DEAD
And struck off his head
To mark David's Victory

And you round and smooth
Almost marble white - alabaster
Helped your royal to be -selector
To be come King of Israel.

by Hillie Feldman undated

Poem - Whisperings of Peace

 Whisperings of Peace

Whispering, sounds, like the name
Of a lovely perfume
Or and exquisite
Banquet of flowers.

Two lovers arm in arm
With arms enfolded
Shadows merge
Into one.
No loud voices
No loud sounds
But the silken
Softness of the wind
Through the grass.
The gentle sigh
Through the trees.
Adoring eyes lock
With eyes of brown.

I love you
He whispers
Hardly a sound
At such the scene
You would tip toe around
Holy Ground
Maybe God is listening.

by Hillie Feldman
Published in New Waves 2000 No. 9 A PEACE ANTHOLOGY
for Culture, Literature,Art& Society June 15 2000 Israel

Poem -HEY DIDDLE

HEY DIDDLE

IN ENGLAND IT WAS A MAD COW
who jumped over the moon
followed by a brown bull
who thought he was a spoon.

SO HEY DIDDLE DIDDLE
and the high nonnie no
this is where the cat comes in
with a pretty purple bow

I suppose you are wondering
what happened to the fiddle
while the little dog barked
it was an awful riddle

Until the dish got him connected up
with the Radio and T.V.
and now he is a great success
in any good company.
                                           
                         with apologies to the Nursery Rhyme
                         FOR JULES AND THE REFET
by Hillie Feldman  July1996

Poem - Salute to the Founding Fathers

Salute to the Founding Fathers

‘Neath the leaping hills of the Gilboa

Above the lovely valley of Jezreel

Surrounded by almond groves and luscious

green fields of waving wheat and cotton

lies the place chosen by Our Founding fathers as the place

nearest to heaven - - Kibbutz Yizreel.

Here in Spring and Summer the wild flowers grow

In such profusion that the ground is covered  

with a rainbow of sweet smelling blooms.

Here too the gentle warm winds blow the scent

over the valley to where the Dragon Flies

hover over our lower dam and bird song fills the air.

It was here the Founding Fathers almost five decades ago

with only ideals courage and determination chose the

place which we today proudly call Kibbutz Yizreel.

They fought the flies the heat mud and rain and cold

lived through dangers and tragedy of many wars

sadly opened the cemetery in our almond grove

wept many tears yet knew great days of triumph

and joy to bring us safely to this day when we

can proudly salute our founding fathers.

by Hillie Feldman 18^th June 1996

Poem - Tea Time

Tea Time

She said you put on the kettle and I will make tea
Hey I said whee are you going now
I'm just off to the garden to pick some sweetpeas
 slip slop her slippers went as she passed me at the door.

Well I might as well write some more
The kettle was whistling like a tiny toy train
The steam rose  in the clouds and now I could see
The green country side we were running through
The track gleaming bright in the Summer sunlight.

She came through the door with a huge Posy
                purple pink and white
Where have you been she said to me
      and what has happened to the tea
       flip flop went her slippers.

I have been having a dream I said
The Train steamed out ten minutes ago
             by the way I put on the kettle
You said you would make tea.

Again the whistle blew  The steam rose in clouds
       with the tea forgotten I was back on track
With the train going full steam ahead.

Hi she said its four o clock
Tea Time  we both  said in unison
As she passed me on the way to the kitchen
          her slippers flip flopped.

I got out of the train and came to tea.
We raised out cups together
           Tea Time We said.

By Hillie Feldman  4th July 1997

Poem - FROZEN LOVE

  FROZEN LOVE

We live in a grim grey world

Love and laughter have disappeared

Mankind has time only

For Murder, Rape, Arson and Pillage

War and the devastation it brings.

Our media Our T.V. face us daily

 with Man’s inhumanity to Man

Guns blaze, blood pours, farms

 villages, towns and cities destroyed

People homeless hopeless maimed and starving

Little children in agony and tears.

Again the refugees flood the roads

   fleeing for their lives, dragging their sick

   old and wounded with them and their humble

   possessions litter the earth as they grow too

  weary to hold on to them any longer.

Yet there is much love

In the world - - it always has been

 hidden in our hearts - -frozen in

 our minds and souls.

That were it to be released

Like it was at the time of Princess Di.

From the slow moving Glaciers

 of the hearts of mankind

 freed from the frozen wastes

 of our Siberian Souls

From the  Ice Caps of the Arctic

  and Antarctic of our minds.

There would be so much love

 set in motion, it would flood

 the Universe with happiness and laughter

 and joyously ring the bells of Heaven

               for all eternity.

 By Hillie Feldman 12^th May 1998

Poem -AUTUMN

        Autumn

When the leaves do fall

  and the wind blows cold

  and the scene that was green

  turns to russet and gold

           its Autumn.

When the clouds and the sun

  are steeped in bright gold

  and the stories of summer

  have long since been told

When the birds sketch a “vee”

   in the golden blue skies

When they gather in thousands

  to say their goodbyes.

When the shadows grow long

  and the field of ripe corn

  and the scent of new hay

  over the still air is borne

When the silos are filled

  with corn wheat and grain

  and the sun drenched fields

  are at rest once again

When the days that were warm

  are silent and chill

  and the brooks that were busy

  now have grown still.

When the children have

  left and we are alone

  and the birds – all off

  to their spring homes have flown

When the sun dips down behind the darkening hill

  When the mists creep up furtive and chill

                   Then its Autumn

A time for remembering silent and sad……..

By Hillie Feldman  August 1998

Poem= My million dollar Grandson.

My million dollar Grandson.
 copied 23rd March, 2005.


                                He came to me – as blond as could be.

                                Twinkling eyes, - blue of the sea,

                                  Aged three and three bits, – every bit a boy.

                                  Ready to play with every kind of toy.

                                         My million dollar Grandson.



                               We played with trains- he played with a car.

                                Jig saw pieces spread wide and far.

                                   Story books in wild array.

                                   My blue-eyed blond was happy at play.

                                     

                                   Leaning Towers built at speed.

                                   A dervish dance to mark the deed.

                                    He twisted, turned, and rolled around.

                                    Now jumping high, now carpet bound.

                                   

                                  The sun went down-the moon was bright.

                                  He played as if he would play all night.

                                     From where I lay I decided to peep,

                                     Gently smiling he was fast asleep.

                                           My million dollar Grandson.

                                                                                        Hillie Feldman.                   

             

                 Originally written 7th December 1985.

                            Specially for Tal.

                                With love.            hillie

THE DINOSAURS

The dinosaurs have passed and gone

          Down the pages of history

Some of them weighed as much as 30 ton

          Their passing a bit of a mystery

They lived for a 140 million years

         A rather large chunk of time

Somehow their passing has evoked no tears

         Not even justified this rhyme.

By Hillie Feldman  undated.

Poem - THE BOXER WHO WON AND LOST W

THE BOXER WHO WON AND LOST

1939 to 1943, You know, The War

To end all Wars.

The War that was going to give Hitler

His much declared 1000 Year Reich.

and I was a Member of the poor bloody Infantry.

You join - look smart in uniform.

Our Hero is going to win The War.

You go in to glorious action,

  the Western Desert - The burning sun

The Stukas dive their dirty work done

Echoes of Machine Gun fire and

Rag Dolls that were once your Pals.

You survive but now you’re a P.O.W

Only a number, no longer a personality

Two years in Italy--- still you hang on

The Germans are being beaten

Our side has won

But No    They come for you again,

This time Germany is a new Pen.

You survive, for exercise you take up Boxing

As a Springbok you represent South Africa

      to do battle with Aussies Kiwis

      Tommies and Yanks.

Under the arc Lights the Ring --  Professional

Your time has come   You Climb into the Ring

A sea of faces   The roar of the crowd

The umpire says  “keep it clean.”

You face a Kiwi ex Coal Heaver.

He punches you and you quiver

      from head to foot

You punch him and your fist

      feels like it hit  a brick wall

Three rounds you go fighting all the way.

A hiding you got the worst in your life

He won of course - - You are happy to go to bed.

Next morning they call you,   The bloke you fought

                            Is  Disqualified.

He was a professional not a novice as he declared

You have to face another fight,

“Oi Vay” you say I Won…..but have I lost.

by Hillie Feldman 8th December 1998