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Anna Kirshenbaum Poems
Alone Most of the time Alone Most of my life
They say we need another half...
They say we need another half – As if we're not sufficient on our own, As if whatever we are isn't enough. They tell us to look for the so-called 'love',
Wind Caresses my soul through the skin. Sometimes, I believe I have wings - Hidden, unseen...
Night coldness Has mantled the City, Has cloaked The streets,
To Regina Spektor
Words Smart, surprising, naive Words That can reach so deep
My scarves remind me of...
My scarves remind me of scars On Isadora's neck, Of speeding cars…
An Image Of You
My eyes fell by chance on an image of you, And my heart, my silly heart, stilled for a moment. It cannot grasp that we are not to be, That I am not the girl of your dreams.
Acrostic Exercise 1
A Love or a Whim?
I know a mind is a fooler, a trickster, I know our thoughts aren't always our own. 'I love you' can easily be self-deception, 'I want to have your kids' – a delusion, a fancy.
Sadness has a claim on me, The way ghost towns are claimed by the wild. A grip on me, The way a jealous mother holds on to her child.
Days of rain, Of ashen light, Of dull skies And icy wind -
I loved a boy
Once long ago I loved a boy. Today he'll marry someone else. I have a side in me that says:
Shadows of the erased from the heart Sometimes do come back. To tease, Cast doubts
The eternal quarrel of mind and thought
words words words words rushing through my mind back and forth… would you guys mind?
Comments about Anna Kirshenbaum
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Most of the time
Most of my life
I am so lone
I am too lone
To stay sane
To be brave
To reach the skies
To swim up towards the light
I want to cry
And weep for help
For someone to be there
But no one's near
No one to hear
And weep for help
And I can surely tell
Each time anew
Is not where we to go
But where to live the life