In the Park

On his stepping out
Of the door
The glasses clinked.

In the park
There was
Leaden silence

But he whooped
Cheerfully
Amidst the trees.

A squirrel
Stared at him
In wonder.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Seven Shortest Poems In The World

Thought:

Brain
Train

Architecture:

Brick
Trick

Bad Habit:

Quit
It!

Insomnia:

Nap
Gap

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poem by Paul Hartal
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To a Raindrop

You tiny
Shining drop
Of late afternoon
Rain
Liquid pearl
Kissing the green
Chlorophyll
Of May
So innocent-looking
Now answer me
Are you indeed
Harmless
Or rather acid
And radioactive

poem by Paul Hartal
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Rainbow’s Birth

The morning light
in your eye
unfurls a sail
in the solar wind
of sun rays.

Your fingers move
like flower petals
in the breeze
of June.

In the palm
of your hand
the rainbow
is born.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Send-off

You came to the door
Saying farewell
In your delightful white dress
Glaring against your ebony hair.

The fluorescent light
In the concrete corridor
Mingled
With the viscous uneasiness
Of departure.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Test of Love

The Sun
Shone high
Above.

Under a clear sky
They walked
Hand in hand.

I love you
Like I love myself,
She said.

And I love you
More than myself,
He said.

But love
Is proven by deeds
Not by words,
She said.

poem by Paul Hartal
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She Does Not Talk

She does not talk
To me any more
And does not look
At me
Just
Strolls about
All day long
With downcast eyes.

Today
I saw her
In the sunshine
Crouching
As only she can
With gentle hands
Touching
A flower stalk
And talking
To the petals.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Palindromic Flight

747
oh
bilateral symmetry
elegant fuselage
lo
the wings
and
the tail
in a palindromic flight
poetry
crosses
the sky
behold
behold
the sky
crosses
poetry
in a palindromic flight
the tail
and

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poem by Paul Hartal
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God's Silence

On a January day
It occurred to me
It is neither
A coincidence,
Nor an act of negligence
That God promotes
The inference,
Explaining why His words
Are not curt or terse:
Rather in silence
He will immerse;
And perhaps
He speaks the language
Of silence
Out of self-defense.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Using Art and Science

In
this
Strained Epoch
Of Man
And
in my own
Over-organized
Cyclic sphere
I need ‘useless’ Art
More
Than I need
‘Useful’ science.

Therefore
Art
Does not exist
Merely
For its own sake
For my part
Art is directly

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poem by Paul Hartal
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