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Fiction ... Poetry ...      Enjoy!

A few of My Published Poems ...

                          MY CHILDREN AT THE BEACH

 

Their shadows traced on final flush of day

A portrait etched with freshly salted sand,

As blue splashed blue in taunting repartee.

 

For once, no arguments sang louder than their play

And just the resting sun could earn their reprimand,

While their shadows traced on final flush of day

 

A tease of waves and feet in fleet ballet

A mixing of their will and God's command

As blue splashed blue in taunting repartee.

 

They scattered with their toes a shell bouquet

And from a cloud, an eagle peaked to scan

Their shadows framed on final flush of day

 

As if to add his frost topped applique

Would make this picture something truly grand

While blue splashed blue in taunting repartee.

 

There is nothing more for which I'd ever pray

Or a purer truth that I could understand

Than their shadows framed by final blush of day

Backed by blue splashed blue in taunting repartee.

                  WestWard Quarterly, Summer 2021

 

 

                              SCHOOL FOR A RUSSIAN DOVE

 

 Her family stood as if an artist had designed their pose,

 Proudly close and watching solemnly,

 Ready for this first day's ride, they presented her to me,

 Dressed in summer pink and satin bows.

 

But, if I had held that brush, I'd have drawn her dress a lucent white

And at her feet, a shallow splash of rain

Would float her billowing sleeves in sky blue frame,

And seem to shimmer as if she were in flight.

 

Then, as I did that day, you'd think – this must be Noah's dove,

Selected from the rest to roam above

Exposing our familiar world to pilgrim's eyes,

While the others wait to hear her prophesy

What they can hope to meet in their new land.

And you would ponder, too, this plucky child who took my hand.

                    The Formalist, Vol. 5, Issue 2, 1994

 

 

 

                                  JOLLY JERRY

 

 Pay the price and you've earned the right to stare

 At an alchemist changing fat to gold.

 For this small fee, you're not required to care

 

That you came here hoping to compare

Your perfect shape to his repulsive mold.

Pay the price and you've earned the right to stare.

 

It's not a trap. He doesn't wait to snare

Your well-earned pride in roly-poly hold.

For this small fee, you're not required to care

 

That your gawking brings his life despair.

No need to search for faults among your chromosomes.

Pay the price and you've earned the stare.

 

Come! Won't you have some ice cream at the fair?

It isn't only dignity that's sold.

For this small, fee you're not required to care.

 

So, don't be shy. Don't hurry out of there,

Or feel ashamed and beg to be consoled.

Pay the price and you've earned the right to stare.

For this small fee, you're not required to care.

                    Riverrun, Fall/Winter 1994-95

 

 

 

Or My Short Fiction ....

Fifth Floor

The Story Shack, October 2014, www.thestoryshack.com

https://thestoryshack.com/flash-fiction/drama/tovah-s-yavin-fifth-floor/

 

 

 

 

L717

The Story Shack, April 2016, www.thestoryshack.com

https://thestoryshack.com/flash-fiction/suspense/tovah-yavin-l717/