Home

By Uvi Poznansky and Zeev Kachel

Home. A simple word; a loaded one. You can say it in a whisper; you can say it in a cry. Expressed in the voices of father and daughter, you can hear a visceral longing, in poems and prose, for an ideal place. A place never to be found again.

Imagine the shock, imagine the sadness when a daughter discovers her father's work, the poetry he had never shared with anyone during the last two decades of his life. Six years after that moment of discovery, which happened in her childhood home while mourning for his passing, Uvi Poznansky presents a tender tribute: a collection of poems and prose, half of which is written by her, and half—by her father, the author, poet and artist Zeev Kachel. She has been translating his poems for nearly a year, with careful attention to rhyme and rhythm, in an effort to remain faithful to the spirit of his words.

Zeev's writing is always autobiographical in nature; you can view it as an ongoing diary of his life. Uvi's writing is rarely so, especially when it comes to her prose. She is a storyteller who delights in conjuring up various figments of her imagination, and fleshing them out on paper. She sees herself chasing her characters with a pen, in an attempt to see the world from their point of view, and to capture their voices. But in some of her poems, she offers you a rare glimpse into her most guarded, intensely private moments, yearning for Home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Uvi Poznansky
• Release date: Jan 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507045688

Uvi Poznansky

Uvi Poznansky is a California-based author, poet and artist. “I paint with my pen,” she says, “and write with my paintbrush.” She received a Fellowship grant and a Teaching Assistantship from the Architecture department at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, where she earned her M.A. in Architecture. Then, taking a sharp turn in her education, she earned her M.S. degree in Computer Science from the University of Michigan. During the years she spent in advancing her career—first as an architect, and later as a software engineer, software team leader, software manager and a software consultant (with an emphasis on user interface for medical instruments devices)—she wrote and painted constantly. In addition, she taught art appreciation classes. Her versatile body of work can be seen on her website, which includes poems, short stories, bronze and ceramic sculptures, paper engineering projects, oil and watercolor paintings, charcoal, pen and pencil drawings, and mixed media. In addition, she posts her thoughts about the creative process on her blog. Uvi writes across a variety of genres: Apart From Love (literary fiction), Rise to Power (historical fiction), A Peek at Bathsheba (historical romance), The Edge of Revolt ((historical fiction) A Favorite Son (biblical fiction), Home (poetry), Twisted (dark fantasy) Now I Am Paper (children’s book) and Jess and Wiggle (children’s book.)

Book preview

Contents

Uvi Poznansky

Home

This is the Place

Muse

A Sentence, Unfinished

His First Home

A Child on a Wagon

A Heartbeat, Reversed

And Then She Left Him

Blade

Even One Mark

Don’t Open Your Eyes

This Tissue Is Me

Be Still, A Poet’s Heart

A Diamond Short, A Decade Late

Zeev Kachel

Reparations

We Were Born in Darkness

After You’ve Gone

Childhood Years

My Teachers

Fall

Memory

Every Day I Tear A Leaf

She and I

Lie to Me

I Forgive you Everything

Don’t be a Judge

Weep, My Heart

Not to Think

I’m Not Sorry

Not One is Home

Your Advocate, Your Voice

My Girl of Innocence, from Time to Time

My Ties Unhitched

We Met Here

Somewhere There

In My Dream I Hear

Another Time

Never have the Days

We Pass

Glass Eyes

Not in Good Spirits

Crossroad

No Need to Worry Anymore

A Different Man

Everything has Long Lost its Weight

Should I Fall

Now I Cry

When Life Becomes a Curse

Without a Compass

The Wolf

The Easiest Demise

Bent Over Memories

I Plucked a Wildflower

The Heart of Space

I Live Here on Paint and on Toxoid

The Time is Near

Fall

Autumn’s Gold

On My Body

Tired of Fighting

It All Passes

Maybe

Perhaps

Maybe

Vigil Light

A Memorial

A Lone Wolf

Time Crawls Slowly

Fantasy

Blessed

In a Dark Night with not a Friend

I Am

About the Cover & Illustrasions

About this Book

About Zeev Kachel

About Uvi Poznansky

A Note to the Reader

Bonus Excerpts

Books by Uviart

Children’s Books by Uviart

Home ©2012 Uvi Poznansky, Zeev Kachel

Uvi Poznansky

Poems and Prose

home_sketch1_sm.png

Home

Uvi Poznansky, 2012

¹

Sucked in by a force, I'm flying through a tunnel

The tunnel of memory that leads me back home

The past blurs my present, so my vision is double

The walls and the ceiling curve into a dome

From here I can see my home, tilting

And falling from place, all the lamps are aflame

My father's empty chair is slowly ascending

Tipped by the light, outlining its frame

This is the Place

Uvi Poznansky, 2012

This is the place where he put pen to paper...

But clung to the wall, the shelves are now bare

All that remains of his words is but vapor

All you can spot is but a dent in his chair  

He used to sit here, here he would stare

Years come, years go, an old clock keeping score,

He would scribble his notes, crumple them in despair

Waiting for his savior—but locking that door

That door sealed him off, away from all danger

Except from the depth of the danger within

No one could intrude here, except for the stranger

Who would carry him off to where his end would begin—

The poet, who’d mourned the loss of his mother

Would then, somehow, be reduced to a child

He would crouch at the threshold, and call, call, call, call her

Knock, knock, knock at the door; no more held back, but wild

This is the place where he put pen to paper

Till the door opened, creaking on a hinge...

Locked in embrace, perhaps at last he can feel her

No need to cry now, can't feel that twinge

Muse

Uvi Poznansky, 2012

The lamp swings like a pendulum

                                  Pictures sway on their nails

Then slip down the walls, leaving scratched trails

Amidst the quake, the grief, the confusion and scare

Slowly ascending is my father's armchair

And beyond all these outlines of what I see there

Beyond the sofa, the knickknacks, the old furniture

Light pours in, and it paints something new

It reveals, it unveils at this moment a clue

The clue to a presence only he could once see

A presence he longed for, because only she

Could call him back home, and envelop him so

Touching-not-touching, her hands all aglow

These pages, upon which he'll never scribble a line

Are floating out of shadows, into the shine

Only she can now read the blanks, she and no other

He's ascending into the arms of his muse, his mother.

A Sentence, Unfinished

Uvi Poznansky, 2004

At this moment, a man is lying in his armchair, propped up on a large pillow. He has lived, or rather, has confined himself within these walls for decades, for a reason unknown. In this stagnant place all sounds are muffled, all images erased—but for one thing: his youth. There is a vibrant longing in him for the adventures of his early days. 

Was it not just yesterday when he left his home in Poland, never to see his parents again?  Has he not escaped from the Nazi death camp in France, climbed across the Pyrenean Mountains, and found his way to Spain? He can still spot the snow-covered trail winding down, shining in the mist. It is fading out now, vanishing into a cloud, into fog. 

No, it is not fog anymore but a storm, a raging storm at sea. There he stands, aboard the deck of a small ship, straining to see the dreamy outline of a new shore: Israel. There is a certain glint, the vivid, restless glint of the wanderer, playing in his eyes. 

It is high noon, but the room is dark. The blinds are drawn. Only a thin plume of daylight reaches in somehow, and writes a bright dot against the shadows. If—like him—you waited long enough, you could actually see the dot bleeding slowly, steadily across the bare floor, rising up over the wall, becoming longer and longer still, until at long last it would fade out, like a sentence unfinished. 

Dark circles can be noticed around his eyes; which suddenly brings to mind a tired animal, one that has not felt sunshine for a long time. The eyelids fall shut and at once, the glint is gone. An invisible hand is writing on the wall. He knows it in his heart. He bears it in fear and silence.

And then, trying to ignore the ticking, the loud, insistent ticking of the clock from the adjacent kitchen, you too would, perhaps, start sensing a presence. Voices would be coming from a different place, a place within. A faint footfall… A soft laughter... Who is there? He glances nervously at the entrance door. Is it locked? Can a stranger get in? Then—quite unexpectedly—the fear subsides and for the first time, gives way to something else. Something wells up in his throat. Why, why is the door locked?

He feels a sudden urge to crawl down, get to that threshold, and cry. Mommy! Open the door! Let me in, mommy! Let me come home! But for now, he can still hold it in. He forces himself to turn away from that door. Somehow it feels lighter in the dark.

Reviews for Home

[briandbenson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was very moved by this intensely personal outpouring of poetry from Uvi Poznansky and her father Zeev Kachel. This could not have been an easy book to compile. As a father and a lover of poetry, I found myself constantly thinking about my relationship with my own daughter. This is a rare poetic glimpse into the sometimes dark corners of that most special relationship. Not for the faint of heart though. Poznansky is not afraid to confront the darkness, and bring it to light. Their poems and prose will definitely cause you to look inward. Her vivid word pictures left a deep impression inside. Thank you for sharing your inner self with us Ms Poznansky.

[deann_native · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

HomeBy: Author Uvi Poznansky, Zeev KachelBrushes the soul with Brilliance…..I was dazed with the beautiful enormity emotions as I read through the pages of this eloquent read. The range in which this read has stretched my heart and soul through an abundant of emotions that have enraptured my mind. I found myself laughing with joy for the wonder of greatness felt. Angry when taken through the edges of selfish irony, and pausing as I try to ascertain the meaning of a secret thought or look upon the face of the individual expressed within a poem or short story being penned. My tears then flowed when I found myself caught up in the agony of the moments within a touching story spoken of through the pages titled “A Heartbeat Reversed”. I have read work from this author once or twice before, and each time I’m taken in with amazement and my intellect and emotions are further stretched, enlightened and richly nourished. Author Uvi Poznansky has an amazing and brilliant way of taking you within a world through the pages of her novels that touches heritage, poetic prose, artistic creativity and talented writing. Once again I am in awe as I am also equally saddened to have completed another truly touching read by this author. Only because reading for the first time gives you a special something that can never be a first again, but I have definitely been embraced and overwhelmed to the point that I will be picking it up again. Hoping to capture the feelings I felt once more…… Absolutely 5 Stars!!! (WaAr) (Read 2 de Enero/January 2014.)Read and Reviewed by: De Ann “Native” Townes Jr. Author of “Peer Inside My Soul and See Me” and “A King Among Prince”