week of April 8-14, 2002
Our fourth annual Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) issue
Jim Bennett David Gerhsator Mike Katzberg Michael Levy | Lew Schneider T.L. Stokes Yonatan Zukowsky |
BECOME A POET OF THE WEEK
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Kaye Abikhaled
abikhaled@mail.utexas.edu
Bio(auto)
Kaye Voigt Abikhaled, born in Berlin, Germany, a 1950 Kiwanis foreign student high school scholarship award winner, immigrated to the U.S in June 1960, attended college at night and worked during the day Kaye’s poetry has been published in state, national and international journals and on the internet A finalist in the 1998 Poetry Category of The William Faulkner Creative Writing Competition, she is the editor of A Galaxy of Verse, was appointed Councilor for the Poetry Society of Texas, Austin area, in 1999 and attended the Paris American Academy’s Intensive Writing Seminars 2000 and 2001 She was the first runner up in the 2000 Fernando Rielo Mystical Poetry Prize in Madrid, a first such distinction of a manuscript submitted in English in the Foundation’s 20-year history Her first book, an epic poem entitled, Childhood in the Third Reich: World War II and Its Aftermath was published by The Mellen Poetry Press in October 2001 and is available from the publisher or Amazon.com Kaye lives in Austin, Texas.
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Kaye Abikhaled and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
Manhunt Aberrant sound roused deep sleep, hair rising in terror unknown Sound, inhuman made by a human father pacing steps thudding around and around the dining room table an animal caught, insane Screaming on top of his voice, mother soothing, warning “neighbors will hear don’t wake the children” on he screamed and thudded mother talked, talking I heard fragments: “there is nothing you can do must do what they say” but my math professor, for God’s sake “you can’t go against the Reich” “we are in danger” “think of the children” she died in 1912, when I was ten how can they hold that against us? And he thudded and thudding his voice slowly lowered and lowering finally broke and came in hoarse half whispered shouts as a life loosing grip, slowly dying My father had been met by a group of SS and Gestapo at the Munich rail station who were to give him a tour of safe&Mac226; locations for transfer of the Messerschmitt plant A cold November morning The beginning of the end for my father
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Jim Bennett
Jimbennett11@btinternet.com
Bio(auto)
Jim Bennett-Was voted PSH Favourite Featured Poet 2000, and has never stopped telling people how pleased he was He lives in Liverpool in the UK and teaches Creative Arts at several Universities
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Jim Bennett and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
Keeping Count death met them as they left the train it sat at tables death kept count it filled up graves afterwards death said |
David Gershator
gershator@islands.vi
Bio(auto)
David Gershator lives in St Thomas Artist/poet/songwriter, he has written several childrens books: Bread Is For Eating was a PBS Reading Rainbow featured selection Moon Rooster is the latest from Cavendish Titles available @ Amazon com Former editor Downtown Poets Co-op, NY Translated Federico Garcia Lorca: Selected Letters (New Directions) His chapbook Elijah’s Child (Cross Cultural Communications) deals with Israeli and Jewish themes
The Akiva series is an interconnected biographical sequence based on a relative, Akiva Gershater .one of the few who survived W.W II in Vilna He wrote Bleter Vegen Vilna (Pages About Vilna) published in Lodz, Poland, in 1947
Yivo Institute has a pre-war film in which he briefly appears I used whatever facts I could gather to construct these poems I never met Akiva Though he lived till 1970 in Holon, Israel, I did not learn of his existence until 1979 Many unanswered questions remain .at times I push the facts over the edge into probabilities
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by David Gershator and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
Akiva You were an Esperantist I can’t imagine your words in the dark Whatever I imagine Amazing you weren’t nailed Akiva’s Birthdays Akiva .you took it upon yourself Those you rescued grew up to celebrate What happened You Say Nothing Akiva, you say nothing In the cool objective eyewitness report What happened to you and yours? What you don’t say speaks more What you don’t say speaks Impossible Odds Impossible odds you must&Mac226;ve been an intellectual armed wife killed daughter killed Postwar Mission After the war An Orphan’s Tale It was around Easter Winter is over You speak of an exodus to the Holy Land I listen to your words at the door You want to take me away You promise me an unknown land I’m torn Where do you want me to go And yet .I answered the door A Child Asks Who am I How can I abandon They tell me the angels of death were Polish Akiva, what’s your shoe size? Next of Kin Uncle or cousin but since you were it’s easy to see you since I will always belong |
Mike Katzberg
mkatzberg@yahoo.com
Bio(auto)
I have had numerous poems published over the years, in newsletters, over the web, and primarily in “The Carillon”, a student-run newspaper where I spear-headed and edited for the Poetry Corner: a regular column, from 1996-1998 I am currently involved with some local performance groups: “Fishmole”, and “Urban Monkey Market” I have also recently published a short story, and co-wrote a tour book which won the Saskatchewan Heritage Award for Education in 1998 — among other projects
I received a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English with a minor in Computer Science from the University of Regina in 1998 I was very active in the poetry and oral performance scene at the university More recently, I have continued on with some post-graduate literature courses at the U of R
My goals for the future are to continue creating and publishing quality fiction, non-fiction and poetry, to enhance as many lives as possible through my work, and to continue to find as much and more happiness and contentment on the road I have chosen as I have in the past
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Mike Katz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
just how far can this poisonous world take you? when the bite is going down farther a sea of faces, voices with unreason and come up to a uniform looking better by disabandonment you’re impossible to feel you it all exactly all of how spent is a young life in tragedies I guess she was right after all, my distant widow with three heads he comes did you die in the walls of mayhem fists clenched did you lead the sheep? all of us blind can hear the blank cacophony of so bombastic blast last heard too bad the Yanks stormed in too late |
Michael Levy
MIKMIKL@aol.com
Bio(auto)
Michael Levy’s poetry and essays can be found on many websites, journals and magazines He is a renowned guest speaker on finance, wellness and inspiration He has appeared on TV in the USA and UK and hundreds of radio stations throughout the world His New book “Invest With A Genius” is now available from all bookstores world wide See his website at http://www.pointoflife.com
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Michael Levy and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
The Psalm of the Soul Disclose no secrets oh! woeful burdens mine, Behold; behind the heart lives a soul that sleeps in the dark, Somber is not our meaning and our fate is but a dream, |
Sharose Niedelman
iwunder@artnet.net
Bio(auto)
Sherry Niedelman, AKA Sharose, lives and writes in Southern California
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Sharose Niedelman and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author .
The Killing Tea: A Recipe Homebrew great grandma ghost gas sponge swept bones slip tooth great grandma ghost sing song campfires skip screams great grandma ghost wind-up the vats the seeds they string great grandma ghost sipped deep, so slow handpick a soul vapors to soothe womb to tomb |
Lew Schneider
scribblew@starpower.net
Bio(auto)
I’m a late comer to the poetry scene, the first 64 years of my life unrelated to the literary arts Hopefully, I’ve made up a little bit for “lost time,” qualitatively if not quantitatively Most of my opi is on the website “Israel Lewis– Poetry and Some Prose” Amongst the prose are two autobiographies of Holocaust survivors that I helped write The poem here derives from Ana’s Story– My Life: A Holocaust Memoir I live in Rockville, Maryland.
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Lew Schneider and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
Writing Other Peoples’ Autobiographies Ana: The Peaceable Kingdom It was said that an angel flew over Chelm In the yard a small orchard– apple, cherry, and pear trees Birds eat the cherries She puts out a salt block for the deer, It’s all right, she says. |
T.L Stokes
pongee7@yahoo.com
Bio(auto)
T.L Stokes is a native of the Pacific NW who followed rumors of sun to northern California The author’s work has been featured in The 2River View, Stirring, Poetry Super Highway, Little Brown Poetry, Ludlow Press, Ancient Wind Press, etc and in the upcoming Comrades Press Anthology-Uno (UK), as well as honorable mention in the Virginia Adversaria 2001 Poetry Competition.
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by T.L Stokes and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
The sound of white lightning I don’t remember when the night came endless for the chosen, when the dust lays her blanket down and the tea |
Yonatan Zukowsky
zuks@matav.net.il
Bio(auto)
Yonatan Zukowsky currently works as a freelance writer and translator and lives in Pardess Hanna, Israel
The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Yonatan Zukowsky and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
To a Ghetto Poet To the little boy of the Polish ghetto Who never saw another butterfly, I write from a land of milk and honey A land flowing with the wings of butterflies To the little boy of the Polish ghetto Who never saw another butterfly, You were not a little boy at all Though I always thought you so You were a man of twenty one years, A poet penned up in a ghetto Sentenced to death by a Nazi fatwa You, who could look at a Shabbat candle And see the burning bush of Moses You, to whom steam from the tea kettle Suggested a pillar of fire to hold back Egyptian chariots, You, who noted the last visiting butterfly to the ghetto, And hoped for the suns tears to sing Even as love hid her face You, poet of Israel Became immortal on September 29,1944 at Oswietim You taught us life from the ghetto also appears on the Ludlowpress.com |