Some Old Writing

I was asked to show some of my work, so I dug up what I could that was left on my computer, but realized that some of the files are old and my word document wont open them. So, here are a few that I found.

The first two are two poems I wrote:

Twilights Cast

Cast by moonlit shadows, the path lays before my eyes
Stars illuminating my soul in the night sky
Wind whispers softly with sweet smells of jasmine
The air is still, a fire radiates and burns from within
My heart flutters on soft kisses of angelic wings

A twinkle, a flicker, a sparkle of delight
Every sense senseless except the warmth from your light
Time is still, yet the river caresses its capricious course
Serene blades of grass sway & dance delicately in the night air
And only the thought of you is what I hold close and dear

Your love nourishes my being, set loose and set free
My admiration of you keeps me yearning
- burning with desire for all to witness and see
And with gentle tender touches caressing your face
Your smile burns my blood with an intense heated embrace

Shall this tranquil dream whither away and fade?
Shall sunlight come reminiscent of the memories that were made?
Hold fast to twilight’s cast
Cherish these endearing moments forever
- before they all pass.

Written for Ginger Rowlette, April 15, 2006

The Pain in My Neck

When I look up at the sky, all is black, except that it is not dark
In a bleak air, which is vast and wide, there is an order
Cast aside are signs of light, million of tiny dots shimmer, sparkle and shine
But amongst the radiant multitude of flickering embers, only one holds me
From memories past to present days path

I have been looking up

Sirius has always seen over me
Now, don't get me wrong
Whether I've been taunted and teased by her shutting and closing eye
Or challenged by her continuous - intent gaze
Or sometimes even scorned by her disappointed glare
From above, she would still be there, winking down at me

And I would be looking up

Time would not pull her - no farther from my heart
No age between us - no disarray, decay or discontent
Her place in the sky would remain the same
Even with distance - space would not bar her
With those blue glass drops, she would be aglow
For now, I live to see, her there right above me

For I am always looking up

Written for my older brother, April 13, 2009


These next two are Short Stories from Moyshe Pipik's, Notes From The Road:
A Twist of Fates

One fine sunny day, a little Jewish boy was playing with a ball, bouncing it against the side of a church. From around the corner, came a priest, irritated and annoyed. He cautioned the boy to stop banging the ball against his church walls. Not too long after he quickly turned on his heels and disappeared from the corner, the boy resumed kicking the ball back against the wall.
Within moments the priest returned even more aggravated than before. With his voice more irate, he warned the boy that if he did not cease on playing with the ball that he would be severely punished. Seeing the boy looking at him puzzled with the ball in his hands, he felt that he was better understood and spun himself around swiftly returning to the church.
The boy, undaunted, couldn’t fathom a reason to the priest’s unruly behavior. He went back to bouncing his ball and got caught up with playing with it again, when suddenly, he lost control of the ball, springing away and striking the side of the wall. Paralyzed with fear, he grabbed the round object and cradled it under his arms, waiting for his demise as he stared at the corner of the building.
Upon seconds, he saw what he knew to fear. Furious, the priest stormed around the corner his last time, dashing over to the boy and grabbing him by his ear, causing him to drop the ball. The child screamed more from panic and fear than from the pain to what the priest might do. However, the priest subdued his cries by pressing harder against his ears and carried him into the church. He dragged the boy over to the holy water and had him quickly baptized. Then, releasing him with gratification, he let the child run off home crying to his mother.
When the boy came home, his older brother saw him crying and asked what happened. After retelling the story to his brother, disbelieved to what had occurred, his brother beat him, asking him how he could have let something like that happen to him. He told him to go and see their mother and see what she would say about all this.
The boy went to his mother crying and she quickly came to him consoling him that everything was alright. When she asked what’s wrong, he recounted the story about playing ball by the church, upsetting the priest, and being punished by being baptized. Astonished and outraged, she grabbed her son and he received such a beating unlike before. She yelled at him to go and tell his father the same story.
When he approached his father, his father could see that his son was already distraught and upset. The father asked what’s the matter and his son replied, that “I’ve only been Christian for the last twenty minutes, and now I understand why they hate the Jews!” an already I too hate the Jews.
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Repairing History

There was a German talking to a Jew about the critical problems of the Jews in history. To the Jew, the German sharply stated, “You Jews have never been liked where ever you lived. From all the corners of the world, throughout all of history, your kind has either been persecuted, exiled, or massacred. You know that you have been thrown out from Egypt, exiled from Jerusalem by the hands of the Roman’s, wiped aside by the marauding Crusaders, kicked out from Spain in the Inquisitions, England was no different with their Blood Libels, then Russia from the Cossack’s, to Germany and Poland from the Second World War.”
The Jew simply responded, “From Egypt, we left by our own will.”
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Moishe Pipik © 2011