A child winter night

Wailing whirling wheeling winds
When shall you blow again
And let the momentous drops of little rain
Come down mossy rocks and on fields of vast terrain
Hush under the cloak of night the nightingale hides and no more sings

Come back howling winds of winter night
Shake the stature of every tree tall
Its leaves long had reddened to a point of fall
Bring back the moments of a child
Scared and fetuses shape cuddled from winds wild
Under his blanket adoring a world of joy and bright

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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My lover and I

When the ever resilient nightingale to his date
Chirrups his songs day long and night late
My love and I keep our sweet state
In the lush and balmy bower
Of varieties bursting blooming flowers
Sweetening with love chat the fresh young air
All day from rose cheeked morning till dusk we are there
Till the watchman guarding in the tower
Announces the approaching close hour
The gored vermilion sun sank in the West
And the night rests on canopies and on crests

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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The wagon

I pushed a wagon through a muddy road
I pushed and I pulled all for naught
The wagon did not move nor did it stir
Its rear wheels stack in the murky mire
 
I withdraw thinking...
This wagon did not want to see the truth
This is why it will never change course or move
A wagon is a wagon
It trots the roads or be dragged on
It lives its life and endures its truth
It is only me
From whom the truth may hide
This plain truth engraved on a rock
Yet boggles taunts and tantalize in a mock

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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Her two great eyes

Her two great eyes will slay me suddenly;
Their beauty so stunningly shakes and penetrates me who once was serene;
Straight through my heart the wound is quick sharp and keen.
This is such a rare beauty my eyes never before have seen

Only her word; her smile or any tune will heal the injury
To my hurt heart, while yet the wound is clean -
Her pair of two great eyes will slay me suddenly and savagely without a jury;
Their beauty shakes me who was once serene.

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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The shade of death

The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing cold
That mortal eyes ache and cannot comprehend or behold
Yet when mortal eyes are closed
And death, cold and pale the limbs reposed
Shall the disposed soul then wakes and roaming it seen
Asking: 'where are Eden's Golden keys? '

Some claim that grave is Heaven' gate
Where rich as poor, royal as commoner, all around it wait
A tale, a fairy, a feeble since old age told
Yet no one from there returned to this story enfold

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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I, the son of fragile mortality

I, the son of fragile mortality
A living soul and then nothing
me who would be cast as a die
standing and adoring the yellow sunset declines
and its long rays and shades the landscapes shines
to mark the barks of trees and flowers stems all with golden light
that lit the dark slant woods of dusk with silvery white
all quiet and calm before the moon takes its roll in the East
adoring all this holy scene I realized that
I am not even a leaf on the  blooming bough
Just not a part of this beauty and bloom

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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The left

Infatuate left will you still persistently proclaim
Your own mother land final doom, your direst foulest shame
Dis-patriate yourself in insanity so deformed and by the devil damned

Ah, when I hear your traitorous lying cunning bell
This gallant betrayal vane knell
It pains my wounded ear; the lies you tell

An ignorant and unsettled crowd of pretenders in self invalidation
Rush to culture their homeland destruction
And nourish a bantling who has already learned to lisp sedition

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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The rose

Vermilion hue decorates your gracious head
Bloom for any man in the universe
Some men will find you in haste
Other will miss you in search in toil late

Bless he that on timely found his rose
Alas the one who his rose miss
At the path of his life no bliss
His light vanquish
And he left like a blind in solitude and anguish

At anguish evening of forlorn winter
When meadows hide beneath dark clouds
Look your image in the mirror of your life
Your lovely rose plucked by a stranger hand
And you left naked to bare and to pretend

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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Love at the lips

Love at the lips was like a heavenly touch
As sweet as one can bare or breathe
Never close to satiety never seemed too much
On the contrary a lightning a dream too brief
A passion written over running water
Time and again she conquered my lips for another slaughter

The hurt that followed was never enough
It made me long for reason and strength
To bare the ripples of pains the waves of agony so rough
The throng of aches through all my body length
The sword of love like I never knew before
Was cutting me faster than the sword of war

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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Truths and lies

This suffocating ache rises to my throat
This rushing horrible thought
A Mountain sits on my lips
would not let my secret slip
Stay coward stay shy
An infant so naive would not cry

Submit to your eyes beguile
And let it walks you through this dark aisle
Not an inward gnawing question asked
The whole world before you is masked
Darkness is your light
Lies are your guide

Hash no more words, they would reveal
what your heart crave so much to conceal
Hark no more lines up to this point
Where truth and lie, two adversaries reluctantly joint

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poem by Isaac Ziv
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