new book review posted - hey o!

Review of Yamrus’ latest book New And Selected Poems, reviewed by Joy Leftow is up at bookstove.com.
I hope you'll visit and even if you don't want to read at least click on it as I will get paid pennies for each hit. Please come back and let me know whether or not you like it. I think you'll like it because Yamrus' poetry is hysterically funny. I plan to post the interview shortly too. After I read his book and laughed all over the planet, ... ok - only my little small universe - I wrote and asked was he up for a phone interview, and you know how us sluts are, anything for attention.

Folks, peeps, whatever - go and take a look and let me know if you enjoyed.

Mwah! That's me throwing you a big wet one!

MEXICAN DELIGHT

Simmering sun
Suspended at the world’s edge
smooth as gilded iridescent silk
On la montanas de Isla Mujeres
Staring at Mexico’s sun set behind her
Like a man behind a woman
he sits behind her mainland

The sea glistening with day’s last rays
flamboyant neon colors
slowly sinking from view
An immense fluorescent ball
Radiant orange, scintillating fuchsia
like my tunic of cross woven silk

We savor the hues with delight
feast upon this sight tonight
It will never be this again,
not exactly like this moment
in time with each other even if
we were together again watching
another luminous setting sun ...

Beseeched by his eyes
Absorbing the sun’s ripening glow
before mellowing occurs
And all is gone


© 1993 This poem has been published 6 times so far and I don't consider it one of my best but it's nothing to sneeze at either.

Wow! I'm verklempt!

I can't believe it! I am so pleased surprised and proud. My poetry blog - where you are right now- is listed in the 100 Great Web Sites for Poetry Lovers published by Online Colleges!

Please go and check it. I think you'll enjoy the variety included here, something for everyone!
Lists online sites for lovers of classical poetry, contemporary, war poetry, writing tips & tools - the how to's hammers and nails, where to go for support and sharing,
follow twitter feeds to poetry
and last but not least ...
us hard-assed working determined bloggers
who write because we're driven to it
we don't know what else to do or how to do anything else
it's not a choice
it's like a love affair you don't want to have
when you meet someone and feel your uterus pull
and you evaluate
how you came to be where you are and then consider where to go
i isolate
turn my soul into a poem
can't isolate yourself from everything I say turning into a poem without me wanting it to be
it's me doing my famous brown rice honey pudding and prolifically spitting and writing lines while cooking
I can't help it - i didn't ask to be a poet - it asked to be me
I can't separate myself from me and so
ultimately now matter where I go
I can only be me

and now I've turned an advertisement into a celebration of poetry
have no doubts about it
it's a love affair I share

LOVE AND LIFE INTERSPERSED

A bird flew across the slate gray sky
fluttered gently by my sight
then suddenly soared into a dive
behind lush green velvet vines

You’re allowed to say you love me if you do
And you don’t have to say it if you do
but you can’t say it if you don’t mean it
Love and life interspersed

The sky is turning a brighter blue
Another woman’s watching you
Don’t send her any mental messages
To further her designs

By now it should be obvious
who it is you’re really with
Awake, waiting on your call
a stagnant threat presides

Pregnant behind these thoughts
maybe it’s just too late
no one person can do it all
Today I didn’t see the sunrise

The sky turned fluorescent blue
the moon, a silver glowing crescent
they appear a fantasy
drawn from fountain pen ink

Look quickly to the horizon
Now, see that same bird hovering

© 1993

WHO’S A JEW

All Jews Are liberals and communists I’ve heard
I cud tell you my parents were communists
but what good would that do, it wasn’t true
they weren’t even very liberal
Not either one of them, I could tell
you all about them, and it’s all very sad
and no one wants to keep hearing how bad
it was anymore anyway, i mean what’s the point
Get over it, we’ve all been there done that

Although I’m not a typical Jew
and other jews don’t recognize my Jewishness
still I’m jewish through and through

My mother bragged she was descended
from a long line of philanthropists
and rabbis, her family permitted
her to learn the skill of bookkeeping
because she was supposed to be an old maid
instead she fell in love, and married my Dad
and so really, all she ever did
was care for and raise us four children
She struggled as much as she could
after the trials & tribulations of her cancer

My father was a violin player who at age 11
was forced to be a pharmacist’s apprentice
and his claim to fame was thrown away
so he could help support his family
My dad played his violin under an angel’s gaze
the notes were pure, sweet and desolate
Portraying his spirit longing for escape

Dad was a dreamer when he met mom
and charmed her into marrying him
Her family disowned her then and sat shiva
An orthodox Jew doesn’t marry a man
Who’s been married before and had a son
Even if he is a Jew too

So in spite of my being a full
blooded Jew on both sides
and growing up going with Mom
to synagogue and hearing all the prayers
on every one of the big holidays
and listening to all the yiddish euphemisms

I don’t know much about being a Jewess
since I’ve always hung with Schvartzes
and all the other goyim and such,
who seem to like having me around
most times, anyway, more than my own kind

All non Jews always consider me Jewish
and wish me “Mozel Tov” in my ventures
while fellow Jews just look at me strangely
It’s now become a theme in my life

©Joy Leftow 2006

HIS WOODEN SHACK

I sat in a wooden shack
in a chair of wood,
at a wooden table
and thinking of wood

In the middle of some undetermined
location somewhere on half an island
in the middle of no-where
where we would know anyway

I simply picked up the book
that sat right there on the wooden
table, like me, it sat
speaking, reaching out to me

I turned to the page inspirationally
all about how he felt about me
He grabbed the book from my hand
realizing I knew
he was upset that I knew that he was

still involved in thinking of me
So you ask, is he happy, content?
No he’s a certifiable alcoholic
lost in dreams of the man he used to be

before he got lost in these
nightmares that came before
dawn became dusk, then again
Nevermore quoth the raven

But it was just the same as before
and more of the same old values
which had held him prisoner for decades
Indeed, now it was clearly a pattern

I wish I could help him improve
make life a little bit better,
Reviewing his past is strange
and doesn’t change his future



© Joy Leftow 2005

Getting up

dubblex on the flex by violetwrites

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

Most didn’t see Carmen as pretty
with her big framed self,
but I saw her as pretty
Her lips were slim and shapely
Radiant dark brown almond eyes
danced with amber lights
Her words were a river of throaty
melodic blues, she was beautiful

I listened contentedly, submerged
in her words cascading over me
Eyes rich, pleasant to stare into
not fat, big and tall,
she stood 6 feet 2,
Some mighta’ called her husky
She had dark brown frizzy hair -
In those days - they said ‘kinky’,
her face was soft and oval

Carmen was Nuyorican in 1963
before the word had been invented
a Puerto Rican New Yorker

I stared into her pools of liquid irises
while we rambled on,
sharing, baring our secrets
selfishly, selflessly and eloquently

Carmen had high cheekbones
a sweet engaging smile with a
big fro creating a halo
She seduced gay men
Back in the day Carmen was my best friend

Both of us were outcasts
She didn’t fit in with her kind
I didn’t fit with mine
We hit it off - hung together,
no boundaries anywhere
We sure made a strange pair

MISGUIDED LOVE

Things were different when I was young
and looking for love I met Harry Darmenjion,
the actor who went out to the west coast who
was offered a contract by a major motion
picture production house which he refused
screaming at them that he wasn’t a sell out
and they didn’t understand his artistry

I didn’t understand any of this,
the only explanation is he must’ve been high
I found it amazing that he could get an appointment
at all, All I could fathom is that
his family had money, and money is connection
It was all crazy anyway because instead
of making it with his talents
he was a stoned out drug fiend,
busy emulating Bob Dylan, singing his songs,
getting together with friends
using heroin, and plucking a guitar

None of it made sense to me
He ceaselessly pursued me until he got me
he had a small dick, so conquering females
was very important
after which he lost interest

Later on Bob from England reminded me of Harry
He too had a small dick and was very theatrical
he’d pull my head gently back by my hair
and kiss me long and deeply
he was very similar to Harry
except there were no drugs
just asthma and emotional weaknesses
which he used to control his lovers

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