More photos from our last poetry evening here.
Our last poetry event finished a little earlier than expected, so I suggested a poetry exercise. I chose a subject and three words at random and asked our participants each to write a poem involving each. The words were sullen, orange and mediocrity. The subject was immigration. Here are a few results…
we sat sullen on ships
staring at our orange eyelids
awaiting the hammer’s final drop
for months we crisscrossed
seas and continents
under cover of night
clinging to the exhilaration of our refugee status
despite our individual mediocrity
who knows what tomorrow brings
that is our only hope
who knows
but soon we will know
whether we must seek yet another shore
or if we can at last find rest
–mobius
***
immigrants to gaza, a new land rush
tired of the tv’s orange hue
ready for this country to bust
t-shirts of the pioneers and citizens
i want to tear at the scabs that are
mediocre rants from telavivians
the 2 minute men of politics and humanities condition
instead i sit sullen, writing poems
–nathan fain
***
i.
The orange floor seems sullen to me
Damn this poem is mediocre
ii.
The orange strap on her bag turns me off
It’s not that I identify
It’s not that I don’t
The orange strap on her bag burns into my eyes
I stand before the tribunal and come out lacking
I have no stance
It’s not that I identify
It’s not that I don’t
The orange strap on her bag pushes me into the corner
The wild cat is on defensive
Because I identify
But I can’t
–yaakov reichert
***
Oranges for five shekels!
Oranges for five shekels!
A walk through the souk on Friday
Finding food to cook for Sabbath
Sullen, arab man from Silwan
Shouting like he does every day
Today, it sounds different.
Today, I want to buy his produce
I want to talk to him, to find out why he’s selling
Is it force of habit
Or an effort to rise beyond his mediocre life
But then I see a little girl,
Carried by her mother, with rubber bands around her arms
Matching Skirt and headband, the same color
As the fruit I want
And suddenly, I’m not hungry
The luscious fruit has lost its shine
How can I make Shabbos in a city that thinks like this?
How can I make Shabbos with a Torah that tolerates this?
Only in Jerusalem do colors have such meaning
Only in Jerusalem do colors carry hate
I gotta get out of this place
In the rest of the world colors are used to label
To give notice of quality and grade
I gotta get out of this place
And get an orange that’s just mediocre
–josh frankel
***
haaretz says that
this year will be a
record year for immigration
from france and the u.s.
22,000 motherfuckers coming
fleeing wealth, comfort
prosperity and community
for the architectural wonder
that is zion
meanwhile sullen would-be olim
sit, suffering, shit out of luck
in camps in ethiopa. 300 per
month is all we can take if
you’re negro. but hey,
you can squeeze oranges
for the french and american businessmen
if and when you get here
that haverim
is moral mediocrity
–jimmy johnson
***
i came back to
jerusalem with a
pair of orange shorts
plenty of pockets
of all sorts
the glimpse of that
color used to get me
angry – a taste in
my mouth – sour yet tangy
i wore them to
the beach where the
little kids are playin
no longer have a
fear of this color’s
what i’m sayin
the sullen young
waitress doesn’t care
about my wardrobe
mediocrity of
service is her work code
and so it goes with
these teens lounging
on the sand
teasing each other
with jellyfish in hand
after the sea leaves carcass
on the land
these immigrants can’t
see what mother
earth demands
so turn your
face from the sky
to the ground
just a little bit of
love we’ve gotta
spread around
‘cuz the thing you’re
afraid of, the thing
that might sting you,
is still in god’s
plan – which is
still within you…
–sarah chandler