Poetry has been with me all my life. My father of blessed memory Reuben Kelly Freedman loved to recite outloud favorite passages. I learned from him the love of the sounding voice. My mother of blessed memory, Edith Zeibert Freedman loved music, and music was in her soul. I from an early age loved to read, and I found in those readings reflections of my own soul. In the American schools of my day ... more »
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- I Write About Myself -new-
- Even In Old Age/Pleasure In Life -new-
- Love Poem -new-
- After The Last Poem Has Been Written -new-
- Nervousness -new-
- I Have Been Far From Poetry Today -new-
- I Am The Poet Of Morning Happiness -new-
- I Am As Old As Adagio
- The Poetry Calms Me
- I Have Gone Through The Long Day
- To Everything There Comes An End
- A Poor Man
- Why Do I Need Another Poem?
- There Is Too Much That Will Never Be Aga...
Shalom Freedman Poems
The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem The beauty of music The beauty of light The beauty of life
A Man Alone
A man alone is a night alone is a poem alone a man alone
Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems- More poems and more poems and more poems-
A Few Kind Words
A FEW KIND WORDS A few kind words From a stranger far away
A Life Is Lived The Way It Is Lived
A LIFE IS LIVED THE WAY IT IS LIVED A life is lived the way it is lived I did what I did
A Poem Of Frustration, Rage, Bitterness,...
A POEM OF FRUSTRATION, RAGE, BITTERNESS, RESENTMENT, DISAPPOINTMENT, ENVY, SADNESS, SICKNESS, DEPRESSION, FEAR A poem of frustration, rage, bitterness, resentment, disappointment, envy, sadness, sickness, despair, depression, fear- All feelings of down and darkness and shame and lust and emptiness
A Man Walks Slowly To His Own Grave
A man walks slowly to his own grave And whether he stops or runs, A man walks slowly to his own grave wherever he is,
My Despair Comes And Goes
My Despair comes and goes It is not the ultimate despair The despair of those who have forever lost hope The despair of those who have lost what they never will regain
There Are So Many Poets
THERE ARE SO MANY POETS There are so many poets Many have won prizes
Let's Leave The 'Poems' Without Metaphor...
LET’S LEAVE THE ‘POEMS’ WITHOUT METAPHORS Let’s leave the ‘poems’ without metaphors Bare and stark and original
I Cannot Say What Death Is
I CANNOT SAY WHAT DEATH IS I cannot say what Death is Or what it means
When There Is No Hope And Nothing To Hop...
WHEN THERE IS NO HOPE AND NOTHING TO HOPE FOR When there is no hope and nothing to hope for When no specific path presents itself
I May Not Have Been A Very Good Poet
I MAY NOT HAVE BEEN A VERY GOOD POET I may not have been a very good poet Not even a good poet
A Poem Means More Than It Says
THE POEM MEANS MORE THAN IT SAYS The poem means more than it says. It hears within itself the sense of what a page can’t know-
The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn ...