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Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology
Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology
Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology
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Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology

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Discrete Thoughts, the fifth book of contemporary poems by Herbert Siegel, the pulse of whose verses are timed to his heartbeats from his signature poems The Core of the Universe to The Soul of Man. Discrete Thoughts is the first comprehensive and unabridged collection of his poetic achievements absent a variorum.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 25, 2014
ISBN9781490732053
Discrete Thoughts Collected Poems: New Enlarged Anthology
Author

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

    52135.png www.trafford.com

    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.psd

    Harmonize 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

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