this isn’t really a poem
but it is a test
to see if I know how to do this…gabbish?
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Harvey Schwartz Statement of Purpose Biography I grew up in a suburban Philadelphia area much like Archie Bunker’s. I was a Jewish kid in a predominantly Catholic neighborhood. I didn’t like Hebrew School, because it separated me from many of my friends. A priest told my friends not to play with me. This and other related events created a paradox. I felt compelled to defend the religion that I didn’t embrace. I tried to disprove the stereotypes that crashed upon me like waves at high tide. Jewish kids aren’t athletic or tough were the only ones I could address and it energized me every time I crashed the boards playing basketball. But it also taught me that the world didn’t owe me success. My love of sports was also a saving grace from the boring life that seemed preordained. I had to study science, which I hated, in order to get into a pre-dental program in college. By then I might have come to my senses sans the carrot of a Vietnam War draft exemption. I bit hard. Going to Woodstock changed me. And a year later my draft lottery number was high enough to free me. But being a slow learner, I thought I’d give dental school a try, since I’d already been accepted. I didn’t last a quarter. I spontaneously quit. Then I joined a hippy commune, which segued into a nine thousand mile hitch hiking adventure that crossed Canada and included Alaska, Oregon and California. I never returned to live in the east. And many hitching adventures followed. In 1973 I returned to college for teacher training and became a tutor/councilor for Lummi Indian kids in Bellingham, WA. Then I taught in a school run by an internationally known (but under the radar locally) psychic, on Orcas Island, WA. This was followed by a one year stint teaching fifth grade in a tiny town on the Yakama Indian Reservation, where I learned more than I taught. Next was a vision quest of sorts back to Orcas Island. I pitched a tipi with the intention of staying there until I knew my next step. I happened upon a chiropractic office and the subsequent chain of events led to a twenty five year career as a chiropractor. My life and practice were featured in a cover story of Chiropractic Economics in 2003. My wife Colleen was doing a vision quest of her own on neighboring San Juan Island during mine on Orcas. We were married on Leap Year Day in 1976. Colleen and our children Jerome and Devan are all accomplished writers. I retired in 2004 and the next years were focused on travel, my garden, and being part of an Improv group. In 2010 I went to hear a lecture at Western Washington University on the wrong day. I somehow came home enrolled in two creative writing classes. I was quickly hooked. I appreciate the exceptional opportunity writing affords me to reflect and write about what I’ve experienced and learned. It’s a lot like Improv, but without the speed factor. Coaching from professors helps me tell a better story and classmate feedback is invaluable. I still enjoy the luxury of frequent and widespread travel while the garden that I’m trying to simplify seems to keep getting bigger. Randomness, dilemmas, paradoxes, and peripheral vision are a big part of my writing palette. My goal is to paint a picture that is insightful, enjoyable, and artistic.
this isn’t really a poem
but it is a test
to see if I know how to do this…gabbish?
ps I tried joining the group but it said closed.
Am I too late?
Or are tech ignorant poets on lakes in N. Idaho being discriminated against?
Harvey
Hello Everyone, (if there is an everyone out there)
I am a poet who is not a techy…not too hard to imagine.
And, I am at small lake cabin in North Idaho on vacation trying to figure out a way to do the marathon.
I figured out how to make my iphone a hotspot so that I can access my computer. Yeahh!
And here I go into the great unknown…if anyone sees this…Hallelujah with cherries on top.
It means I figured something else out.
Harvey Schwartz
normally from Bellingham, WA
No one can see
this world but me
where aging stops at 23.
And if my body does contest
I yell at it – Don’t be a pest!
For what is more of who you are
is if you can be more than sure
that boring lives and silly talk
belong in garbage heaps of thought.
And if you think this not as real
then walk the plank of life in jail.
Dead man delivered in the mail.
Racing forward – human snail.
The only thing we pass along
Our vibrancy – unique song.
1. My mother.
2. Dressed well in a dignified way.
3. Loved to sing.
4. Knew right from wrong.
5. Born under the sign of Cancer.
6. Died of Cancer.
7. Pretended to care about sports.
8. World class cook in tiny kitchen.
9. Pillar of the family – like her mother.
10. Dignified.
Sitting on a bench
notebook in hand.
High pitched and fast talking kids
birdlike, chatter all around the lake.
Human chickadees.
In the water they churn like piranhas.
Their older versions move slowly like herons
in the woods and have calm sounds
and gentle ripples when they swim.
And I’m lost in my head
at Lost Lake because
I’m supposed to be home
writing about a location
for the poetry marathon.
I am new to this planet
from a race older than earth.
Ancient technology translates
to your simplistic language.
Your liquid totem
is served in cups
and smells deep, earth like.
Many add milk from cows
and often sugar.
Then your brain waves alter
and do what you call
the hokey pokey.
This totem greets you
mostly in the mornings.
But not so much at night.
I don’t understand
why you don’t bow down to it?
Mixtrynki Verstrunkaz Xxkliytrer
But when he eats them
his nose grows long.
And though he fights
his appetite.
His nose grows longer
into the night.
Geppetto cries
inside a whale.
But a tickling feather
saves the day.
What we learn
from fairy-tales
is known to us
and really clear.
Don’t eat pistachios.
Stay out of whales.
And watch for fairy’s
everywhere.
Birds diving
catch my eye.
towards my window
from the sky.
What pulls them
like a magnet there?
To their demise
Is it fear?
I try to watch,
impassively
but look aside
can’t help but care.
I wonder at the
news today
bombings, killings
lives are sheared
And why it happens
who’s to gain?
While birds slam
into reflections.
Bleeding knees
are better than
a bleeding heart
I tell myself
once more
as if this time
it will help.
And once again
I stumble
until finally
I reach the tunnel.
And once again
there is another one
just beyond.