THE POEMS OF CHANA RUTH

THE SEA September, 2008 You reflect upon my calm blue expanse Stretching endlessly on beneath the warm sun. You shudder when my torrents rise beneath the tempest. You walk along my shore, lulled by the sound of my waves, Content to watch my tides rise and fall and rise again, And you think you know me. Beneath lies a vast domain Hidden from gaze and veiled from understanding, A kingdom rich in vibrant color and teaming with life. My ancient currents run deep and strong, Impervious to wind and sun, And the mysteries of my dark depths Can never be fathomed by any man.

ODE TO MARGARET MEAD I think that I shall never read A liar quite like Margaret Mead Who in the years she spent abroad Did perpetrate a crazy fraud When her lie was brought to light I saw a truly awful sight The textbooks still contained her name And not just speaking of her shame Books are read by college dons But Satan makes them into pawns

PORCELAIN PEOPLE Porcelain People Delicate and fragile Their extremities chipped Cracked and glued together again And again, and again They lack the resilience of rubber dolls But oh for that cool smoothness of their fair skin… FREEDOM All I want is freedom; A world with no more nite, And you always beside me To hold me and to hide me. Say you'll share with me one love, One lifetime; Say the word and I wil follow yu - ... luv me - thats all I ask of yu

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED - UGH I walk along in silence in the rain Feeling irritation at the pain Scratched hands and swollen ankles caught in roots Slipp'ry mud, skinned knees above my boots The sudden pour from branches up above The cold, soaked clothes engenders no great love 'Bout half the time I think that I am lost I'm fairly sure that I hate Robert Frost I chose to walk this wooded path today I could have walked a common city way Its concrete sidewalks flat with people swarming Lined with shops within which I'd be warming Myself should ever rain begin to fall But I thought "Road Less Traveled" came the call But anger tires one too much, I sigh Who cares right now which road I traveled by I lay my back against a leaning oak And wait for G-d to end His little soak Strange how mantra-like the rain can be As it falls and drums on rock and tree The ticklish treble trickles forming rivelettes Could rival any philharmonic string quartet I deeply breath the cold clean humid air And as the rain begins to ebb I stare A beam of sunlight wakes each crystal drop To shining globes of light that dance and hop Above me through the branches green and spare A rainbow crowns the scene across the air I still hate being wet, my leg still hurts My irritation comes and goes in spurts But maybe after all something there is To Robert Frost and all that poetry biz.

SILENCE She sits with her feet up Cozied with her comforter upon the couch Her purring ball of fluff upon her lap Outside the window, cars whiz by An occasional indistinguishable voice is heard The clock ticks slowly, the refrigerator hums The fastidious feline slicks its fur rhythmically Only the phone is still As she continues to wait