Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology
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About this ebook
Herbert Siegel
Herbert Siegel, Ph.D., has consulted for a highly select clientele for 25 years, was a CEO for big-board and privately held companies, authored 5 books of contemporary poetry, published numerous essays and articles, hosted “Siegel’s Perch,” a macro-economic weekly radio show, and served as a Corporate Director for a host of banks and commercial entities. He is the recipient of many awards, the latest of which are The Albert Nelson Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award in 2021, and Senior Poet Laureate of New York State, in 2009. Herb holds degrees in Business and International Law. He is a resident of Long Beach, NY for 60 years.
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Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems - Herbert Siegel
© Copyright 2014 Herbert Siegel.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
Copyright excludes
Harriet Slaughter’s Cover and Interior Art,
Kenny’s Nostalgia Poem, and Jonathan’s Ode to a Mother
Herb515@optimum.net
Cover and Interior Art: Harriet Slaughter
Cover and Interior Design: Susan Siegel Dorn
isbn: 978-1-4907-3204-6 (sc)
isbn: 978-1-4907-3206-0 (hc)
isbn: 978-1-4907-3205-3 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905781
Trafford rev. 04/21/2014
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North America & international
toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)
fax: 812 355 4082
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
THE SOUL OF MAN
AND OTHER LATE-LIFE OFFERINGS
Life Cycle
Unseen Miracles
Anatomy Of A Poem
Lost Heroes
Confessions Of A Septuagenarian
Curves In The Right Places
Five Card Hold ‘Em
The Bible: Literature Or Dogma?
The Worker’s Ballet
Missing Persons
Elegance
Brain Or Universe:
Which Is Bigger?
Canvas Of Our Psyche
High Noon At Damascus
Mickey
Clouds Below
The Philosophy Of Psychiatry
Cosmic Sweepings
Health Foods
Words Waiting To Be Heard
Hubba, Hubba!
Venery
The No
Shibboleth
Westerners, Tribalists,
And Muslims
Hurricane Legacy
On The Hook
Generational Skip
Mare Librium
Crepes And Grapes
Montesquieu
Kinetics
You Never Know?
Wandering
Knowledge Mirrors
The Soul Of Man
Part Ii
The Soul Of Man
WHERE DO PRAYERS GO?
AND OTHER OBFUSCATIONS
Why Are Manhole Covers Round?
A Lonely Chair
It’s Not The Heat, It’s The Humility
Fractured Prisms
Fractured Prisms Continued
Greetings
All Alone
All About Money
Hope Is Not A Plan
Poetry Without Words
Listen To The Painting
Watch Your P’s And Q’s
Alibis
It’s All About Appearances
Ripley Clothes
Square Wheels Of Justice
Inspiration And Me
Hyphens & Dashes
Back To The Future
Serendipity
Haiku
Senryu
Tanka
One-Way Mirror
Pay Me No Mind
Where Do Prayers Go?
A PERSON WITHIN A PERSON
AND OTHER ANALOGIES
Deep Freeze
Possessed
Allison Schmidt’s House
New Tribes
People Power
Fertile Minds
The Oracle
The Elderly Couple
Two Cousins
America’s Act Two
Tonsorial Splendor
Grandetita
A Veteran’s Prism
Kenny’s Nostalgia Poem
The Fisherman
Atavistic Connections
Staring At The Sun
Friends For All Seasons
Mr. Plumber’s Pillow
A Couple Of Kids
Creativi-Tea
Irony
A Personal Conundrum
One Day In May
Munificent Caretaker
Bread Givers
Soldier’s Lament
Want Ads
Cinquains
Happy Birthday Jeffrey Roy
Welcome Lori Robin
The Angel, Amy Hope
Heaven’s Gift: Jonathan Stuart
Grandson Kenny
Wedding Vows
First Mother’s Day
A Wife
Eulogy For A Mother
A Brother’s Lament
A Brother’s Lament Continued
A Person Within A Person
THE FABULIST
AND OTHER HISTORIETTE
People Of The Book
Greek Mythology
And Hi-Technology
Greek Mythology
And Hi-Technology Continued
Changing Crimes
For Changing Times
Fritz
Schopenhauerisms
Schopenhauerisms Continued
The Triad Of Pindar*
The Triad Of Pindar* Continued
The Federalist Papers
(A Prelude To The Constitution)
Fictitious Values
Electoral Dysfunction
Left Bank
Göethe
Man At Lamancha
Bluebeard
A Whodunnit?
A Whodunnit? Continued
A Whodunnit? Continued
The Fifth Dimension
(A Futuristic Poem)
Music Of A Painting
Sub-Prime Baggage
(The 2008 Mortgage Fiasco)
Gps Gone Wild
Gps Gone Wild Continued
No Future In The Past
The Deal
Mixing Metaphors
Gas At Last
(@ $4.50 Per Gallon)
Military Secrets
(The Nsa)
Fool’s Gold
(The Worst Book I Ever Read!)
Iamb Hegemony
(A Poet’s Struggle)
Poetic Mythology
Between Fantasy And Reality
(The Real You)
The Fabulist
ALIAS PASTA
AND OTHER GASTRONOMY
THE LEGEND OF MONDELBRÖT
THE BALLAD OF THE PALATE
ELIXIR VITAE
THANKSGIVING IN KANSAS CITY
BERRIED TREASURES
CAPTAIN BEN’S
SCRAMBLED EGGS
ALIAS PASTA
AGING
AND OTHER LIFE PHENOMENA
MEMORIES vs. EXPECTATIONS
HOROLOGICALLY CHALLENGED
MASQUERADE
YOUNG LOVE
FIRST YEAR OF MARRIAGE
WHO IS HAVING THIS BABY?
ANOTHER BIRTHDAY
FIRST VALENTINE
MOTHER-TO-BE
BUYOLOGY
DREAMS
FIRE IN THE BELLY
SANGUINITY
ECSTASY
DIETS
SMITTEN
TAKE A CHANCE
QUITTING
WILLS AND TESTAMENTS
MORTAL MALADIES
HAZE ON THE HORIZON
DYING TO LIVE
(A Prose Poem)
DO THE MATH
PATIENT PENDING
IMAGINATION OR HALLUCINATION?
DYING
AGING
TALE OF THREE CITIES
AND OTHER LOCUS
The Great Wall Of Mexico
Wilmington
Pondering Darfur
A Trip To Nowhere
Outer Space, Inner Waste
Waiting For A Traffic Light
Monuments
House Of Pain
Defrost At Home
Born To Be A Beachcomber
Nuclear Tasteland
Syllabic Tongues
(An Indian-Yiddish Poem For Peace)
Eastern Culture Western Law
Stay-Cations
New Beginnings
New Beginnings Continued
Tale Of Three Cities
Tale Of Three Cities Continued
LIFE THROUGH MY GLASSES
AND OTHER
NATURAL WONDERS
The Science Of A Ceaseless Dance
Thunderstorms
(A Voyage Of A Fair Weather Cloud)
Lightening Strike
Welcoming The Summer Sun
Castles Made Of Sand
Winter Sun
Internal, External, Eternal
(The Horology Of Time)
Music Of Poetry
The Biology Of Laughter
(It’s No Joke)
The Biology Of Laughter Continued
(It’s No Joke)
Did You See The Albatross? Continued
Luck
Small Talk, Long Tales,
Big Ideas…About Sex
Fear
Broken Glass
Sand In My Shoes
Good Advice
Debris
Reflections
Acronyms Of Life
Emoting
One Of Those Days
Erotic Dreams
Mirage
The Last Day, The Very Last
Jonathan’s Ode To A Mother
Life Through My Glasses
Life Through My Glasses Continued
Here By Accident
Original Paintings, Drawings And Photos
By Harriet Slaughter
PROLOGUE
It is fitting on this first day of spring, in the first month of my eightieth year, that I finalize the poems I used to chronicle events, sensations, and observations since I was fifteen years of age. It is time to move on to other forms of expression.
Despite numerous public performances, peer awards, and publications, I never thought myself a poet. Rather for me, the process is a recreational interlude for someone who writes poetry contemporaneous with witnessing life. Many of my early poems reflect events as they unfolded. The more thoughtful ones evolved over time, as my opinions crystallized. Always I felt obligated to inject tasteful, sardonic humor that reflected the irony of each experience, and my personal satisfaction in recognizing it.
Finally, I enjoy the precision, cadence, and meter of rhyming despite considering it out of vogue since the late 20th century. It just seems to me if a poem requires explanation, it should never be written.
March 20, 2014
509413_New%20Front%20Cover_LR.psdHarmonize your words with the heart
—Code of Jewish Law
THE SOUL OF MAN
AND OTHER LATE-LIFE OFFERINGS
LIFE CYCLE
I value my life,
but don’t remember my birth,
and won’t remember my death,
yet both are crucial,
extant and extinct.
Life filled with days
each a lasting effect,
some good, some bad,
I own them all,
see my calendar as proof.
Most I remember, some I choose to forget
—others will remember them for me.
None can compare with my birthday,
a special day, indeed!
From not being to living,
a first breath, bath, and name,
the genesis of my belly button,
seeing, crying, eating for the first time.
What an important day
not to remember.
I won’t remember dying either
however it may come,
my life erased in a micro-second,
no time to change or take another chance.
I won’t remember becoming extinct.
Who cares?
UNSEEN MIRACLES
Miracles span generations;
my mother performed miracles after she died,
some were scholarly, a few pedantic,
others general but in a particular way,
all defied laws of physics.
They pierced stone, steel, and glass
from a world without light or darkness.
They see through my eyes, hear with my ears,
touch everything with love.
No hi-tech, psycho software,
no middlemen
except Bach and Mozart to cohere.
Only God is condemned to work alone,
for us there is the omniscience
of things unseen, otherwise
there is no point to make.
Miracles are not monolithic
anchors of our minds, or home grown.
Nothing is as hair raising as an unexpected miracle
That freezes all thoughts into ice like organ pipes,
until the vision materializes.
People don’t make people better,
mother’s miracles do!
ANATOMY OF A POEM
Inner sounds culled from life’s silent essence
awake non-obvious events,
mimic art’s imagination,
faux prompts, biases, laments.
Explore vagary, reality,
aware of metaphors
that solve nothing, cure less,
cast a net trapping insightful ethos.
Music needs sound, paintings color,
ideas crave reality,
language follows deafening silence,
all avoid calamity.
Words provoke inspiration,
the human condition of
unconscious composition,
proof of creation.
Privileges of our world
without which we are not home.
Silence the sounds yet unheard,
when ready they are a poem.
LOST HEROES
As trains leave stations,
ships sail, planes fly,
they pass a stationary motion
of transient sensations.
Today’s idols putch past heroes,
soon supplanted by successors.
It’s hard for heroes to survive aging dialects
of thesis. antithesis, and synthesis.
Wide gulfs separate yesterday’s heroes from today,
As seen through makeshift glasses not scientific lens.
Once ravishing now ravished, captivating now captive,
they can’t understand decay.
To bring them back dispels clarity between sleep and waking,
they never said goodbyes,
how many memories can air hold
beyond a trace of wet eyes?
Come back, you are here and now,
I said,
Spartans unburdened by old bones,
not knowing they are dead,
but for this poem’s metaphoric zones,
TO WIT:
Hello, Gen. Washington, you won a war
against the only army you ever saw.
Today you’d face terrorists galore,
religious fanatics who thrive on gore.
Goodbye General, your horse, sword,
and 18th century corps.
Strut your stuff on the runway of time, Cleopatra,
a Greek, who came to Egypt’s reign,
married her brothers, Caesar, and Antony in line,
the goddess Isis her claim to fame.
Lost the battle to Octavia’s hasp,
was killed bitten by her own Asp.
The feminist of her day,
occupying Wall St. is not her forte’
So long Cleo, return to your crypt,
no place for you here or Egypt.
A supreme commander Ike was,
fought and won battles better than anybody does.
Brought back to point the way,
bewildered by wars of today,
no armies, al Qaeda and terrorists sneak,
strike and hide
from drones, missiles, and profiteering
of our side, patriots, allies, hard to find,
ten years here, ten years there, we try to unwind.
No victories, confusion reigns,
our soldiers leave broken and broke for their pains.
Heroine, Saint, then burned at the stake,
Joan of Arc ends the hundred year war for France.
Struck by visions from God,
she partied hard after a nine-day victory dance.
The martyr visits the 21st century,
views church/state politics of today,
prays for guidance from her deity,
has visions of joining the Tea Party,
or take another