Dear God, your ways are unknown

Dear God, your ways are unknown.
Like a feather, for long I've been blown.
By my safety you have been provided,
All my life by your light I was guided.

Dear God, let me see your ways better,
Through a palace or through a ghetto,
Serving you is my destination
That's my only way to salvation

Jan. 2012, New York
My son is 18.

My son's eighteen, my son's eighteen!
I am free at last like I've never been.
Please stay well. my son, oh, please stay well,
Let me listen more to my freedom bell.

I will get much more from my life, my life,
Go find a bride, go find a wife,
If you need me or you'll be feeling sad
I will help of course, I will help my lad.

So bye-bye, my son, oh my son. bye-bye!
Like a sea-gull I'll give a joyful cry,
You'll be back one day, very happy day,
We are both free, and we'll stay that way.

August 2011, NYC

For Mr Lange

Let me Mr Lange Mr Rich
For his home and pool are terrific,
They are both steps from the beach,
But the consequence is horrific.

Birds die after drinking chlorine
Which he dumps on our grounds,
Our water is no longer pristine,
And a bird mournfully sounds.

He polluted her beautiful nest,
And he killed her children and spouse,
And I cry, for East either West,
My best place is our house.

In the year nineteen eighty five
It was build by my children's grand parents,
Who worked hard and honestly strived
Running home, business and errands.

In the grave lie my parents-in-law,
In a beautiful place by Sag Harbor,
And they cannot defend any more
Their home from under the marble,

I am writing on their behalf,
To defend their seven grand children,
to allow them joyfully quaff
From the well Grandfather was building.

I am trying to reach Mr Lang
Who arrived two years ago-
Your chlorine is not a morang,
Stop its poisonous treacherous flow!

Our land is becoming wasteland,
Our trees and birds are dying,
If you you have an oblivious hand
Come and and look at what you are drying,

We are people. are humans like you,'
As created by God the creator,
I don't want to quarrel or sue,
I am just a humble narrator.

Long Island, July 2013

You are sparkling with wonderful splashes,
While your current to Canada dashes

You attract so many admirers
They describe you in poems and diaries

You are still so very mysterious
Though only one, you're myriad

You give joy besides electricity
In return, I'll give you publicity,


Life Is a maze in the wind,
Smell of fresh lilac and mint,
Where is the way, no hint,
Life is a maze in the wind.

How to find my lost way
In the shrub maze by the bay?
What shall I do in dismay
This coming April and May?

You, lost in space and in time,
Listen to poetry chime,
Then you will find you lost way.
Till the green grass turns to hay

April 2012 Staten Island


I am back in New York.
I am back in New York
But my heart's by the bay
like a shell, like a rock.
It is licked by the wave,
By the ocean rocked.

So how to live far away from my heart?
I don't want to eat cakes, I don't want to eat tarts,
In my work I can do just a bit, just a part,
In museums, I won't notice art.

I will find a small fawn.
I will ask a small fawn:
Go look for my heart by the bay till the dawn,
And I hope he'll find my lost heart on the lawn
And will bring it to me, so I will be reborn.

Long Island. August 2011
For Craig

Attraction is far from perfection-
It has no scheduled times,
It doesn't resemble erection
Though it easily rhymes.

Sometimes it is born at table
At any time of the day,
If you to speak to me able
In any flirtatious way.

It does not require a candle,
It does require your face,
But you behave like a vandal,
I need a chase, not a race!

You sit like the god Apollo
Without your your sweaty shirt,
But love isn't a game of polo
To make me really hot.

If you could look at me now,
If you could utter reply!
But you sit silently- vow,
Goodbye, attraction, goodbye!
In the fog

To my daughter Diana

When you talk and walk
By my side, my side,
Like a blue peacock
I am full of pride.

When we walk and laugh,
In the foggy night,
Like a tall giraffe
I look left, look right.

When the rain brings drops
On your lovely face,
I will make it stop,
Or we'll have a race.

Or we'll talk and walk
In umbrellas' shade,
Rain will play us rock
Till the storm will fade..

If the street is lost
In the mud and fog,
I will leap across
Like a happy frog.

Jan, 2012, Manhattan
Music in my life

Beating, beating of the drums,
Words prettier than mums,
Problems difficult like sums,
Music stickier than gums.

Take me, take along the road,
Put me, put in a joyful mode.
Let our car be like a hive,
Brighten up my boring life!

Let me feel my lazy muscles
Not to be like sprout from Brusseles
Which is eaten with a knife,
Otherwise I'm just a wife!

August 2011 Brooklyn

She gave me the beaches,
She gave me the bridges,
She gave me her wonderful son.
She gave me the gave me the charms of the famous West village
And rays of American sun.

She taught me the secrets of shopping and schooling,
She taught me how to teach.
She taught me to fight all disruption and bulling
And how to talk and to reach.

Tonight, I am trying remember Anita,
My dear mother-in-law,
And thought I'll never be able to greet her,
I'm saying thank you with awe.
Listen to the flowers
If it's in your powers,
Listen to the showers,
Listen to the wind.

Life is sweet, not sour,
Leave your lonely tower,
With your eyes, devour
Hyacinth and mint.

Listen to the irises,
Happiness has viruses,
Life has no minuses
This terrific spring.

Flowers sing vowels,
Wind no longer howls,
Sky no longer glowers,
We are given wings.

May 2012

We fought the vines, and it was fun,
We used the scissors like a gun,
We cut the grass, we freed the trees,
We worked all day like busy bees.

We freed our lilac from the vines,
We cut the weeds so many times,
Though joy with pain in palms combines,
I write with pride these happy lines.

By cutting weeds, I fought my sloth,
Which was around me like moths,
By pulling vines, I pulled my vice,
Which gnawed at me like hungry mice

I celebrate not once, but twice!

April 2012 Staten Island

Pleasure to read

When you sit by my side on the floor,
In Manhattan, in a book store,
Deeply reading a page or some more-
I am happy like never before,

All the world is by my side,
All the world, spacious and wide,
All the world fits in one room,
And on you I will zoom, I will zoom.

I will zoom on the Pleasure itself,
Which likes hiding on a bookshelf,
On forgotten pleasure to read,
Which sometimes is all that we need.

Jan. 2912, Manhattan


To my son's girl friend Hanna

Dear Hanna, you rhyme with nirvana,
Dear Hanna, you rhyme with hosanna,
Your arrival's as sudden as manna.

All I know - my son's very lucky
That you came through L.A and Kentucky
To New York which was color of khaki.

Your long hair's as bright as banana,
your blue eyes are like skies of Havana,
And your smile is Americana.

Dear Hanna, you change my existence,
That is why I repeat with persistence-
Don't keep yourself at a distance.

Could you please stay with us a bit longer?
I don't know if it's righter or wronger,
Bur with you my life's dancing conga.
On St. Patrick's day in NYC subway

You are Irish, you're so Irish,
You're as Irish as one can be.
You are handsome and you are stylish
And you're older a bit than me.

You are Irish rebellious nation,
A descendant of knights and dukes,
Everybody's paying attention
To your very distinguished looks.

In your eyes are the skies of Ireland,
In your hair are fields of wheat,
And you dream of the green of farmland
In the subway where we meet.

On St Patrick's Day you're a symbol
Of forgotten explorers' days.
And the doors are clicking like cymbals
To make music for you on the way.
My friends, my friends
In Russian lands,
I miss you bands,
I miss your hands.

If you are free
By any chance,
Please come to me,
Please come at once.

We;ll sing and dance,
We'll dance and sing,
Please come at once,
Or come in spring.

I miss you all,
Who misses me?
The world is small,
But so are fees.

When I can earn,
Much more, much more,
I will return
To the Russian shore.
Raking leaves

I am an ant, of course an ant
I was at dawn by instinct sent,
I'll rake the leaves till the sun is set,
Till spiders finish making nets.

I'll clean the moss, I'll clean the grass,
While I do that my day will pass,
When to the bay at eight I'll get,
The sea will lick my joyful sweat.

August 2011, Long Island

To James Seawood

I am glad you are well, James Seawood,
I am really glad you are better.
You're as stoic as made from some wood,
Which can't sink when it's getting wetter.

Let the wind dry out the tall trunk,
Let our God will help you recover,
I will pray for your health like a monk,
Till you are as resistant as lava.

June 2012 Staten Island

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