December growth

Breaching the rich, brown

Earth, winter mushrooms thrive in

startlingly warm air

November 30, 2011

The chill in the breeze

Warns winter, though the sun and

Warm air say, “Let’s play!”

Republican Debate

It was so sad to see Governor Rick Perry on TV

He couldn’t remember the name of the Department of Energy

Ron Paul gave him a smirk so smug

While Herman Cain is just looking for a hug

If Rick’s not careful, Newt will get the nomination of the Republican Party

Judith, a Hanukkah ode

Judith, tall as The Hammer, with a heart

as big as her nation and as hard as

the steel she used to hew the head from the

proud shoulders of the Seleucid tyrant,

climbed the hills of Judea in bare feet

and tattered robes until her fingers bled

in the dry, dusty rock, to escape the

destruction of her home and the greedy

grasp of soldiers fed on the bounty of

the land and the lust of their loins.  She sought

the safety of the free people, hidden

among the crags and crevices of the

devious, dark hills, who had long strived to

remove the offending armies from their

homes and villages in the formerly

fertile milk and honey valleys below.

Judith slipped unseen between sentries who

had spotted Seleucid spies a mile off,

and entered the camp with head unbowed, knee

unbent, covered in mud and dust and her

own blood, and the free people stopped to see

a woman where they might before have seen

a girl.  She came before her cousin, The

Hammer himself, and with reckless courage

demanded to do her part, to avenge

their dead, to take up a sword and shield and

fight against the Seleucid invader.

She would do whatever he asked of her

so long as she could strike back at those who

murdered her father, raped her mother, and

ended her childhood before its own time.

In his wisdom, The Hammer bade her to

tend the wounded, to feed the hungry, and

to help make the people strong, to do all

this and smile to keep up the courage of

the people.  Judith lowered her eyes and

nodded as though she acquiesced, but her

heart raged against any wisdom that would

relegate her to menial work when

her warrior’s heart called for blood.  All that

long day, she tended the wounded,

fed the hungry, and girded warriors

in their worn, dented, and bloodied armor, 

and smiled to keep up the courage of the

people, and in the darkest hour of

the night, she slipped unseen from the camp of

the free people.

She sought out the camp of the Seleucid

army, a camp so large it covered an

entire valley that once had fed thousands,

but was now a desolate waste of men,

horse, and disease.  She shortened her skirts, bared

her legs, and slipped unseen past the sentries

who kept a watchful eye for raids from the

brave warriors of the free people.  She

came before the tent of Holofernes,

the great general of the Seleucid

army, the tyrant of her people, and

offered herself to him for a price.  His

hungry eyes saw a beautiful girl,

black curly hair, eyes soft and brown as a

warm embrace, full moist lips, firm breasts, strong arms, 

dressed to enflame his soul, haughty and proud,

a girl who could only be conquered by

one such as a king, and his heart swelled with

ambition.  He beat his ravenous men

down to forge a path for her to approach.

He brought her in his tent for refreshment

and she came willingly, a demure smile

playing on her red lips at odds with her

wanton dress.  He offered her wine, gold, and

jewels, but she declined such treasures.  “I

wish only to serve you, great general,

and welcome you as a guest to my land.”

She prepared for him a feast of many

delicacies of the land.  She helped him

remove his strong and impenetrable

armor, and massaged his mighty shoulders.

He ate his fill of fine foods, and drank wine

to prepare himself for the task ahead.

He sighed the contented sigh of a man

who would be king of a conquered land, and

he grew thoughtful and sleepy with dreams of

crowns and scepters replacing armor and

maces.

As his eyes grew misty with ambition

and lust, Judith hefted the general’s

great sword above her head and swung it with

all her considerable might.  The sword

lodged in his neck in a spray of scarlet

rain as she let out a grunt.  She would seem

to be weeping ruby tears if not for

the feral grin on her face as she heaved

and pulled the sword free.  His dying body

fell as a great oak falls before the swing

of the woodsman’s axe.  She stood above his

twitching corpse and hacked away until the

great general’s head popped free, skittering

across the richly carpeted floor, gasps

of exertion escaping her lips in

ragged regularity.

The guards outside the great general’s tent

smiled conspiratorially to each

other, thinking, foolishly, that their lord

was satisfying a trollop with his

manhood.  Judith was satisfied, it is

true, but not in any way that would have

pleased Holofernes had he been alive.

As the camp settled down that night, Judith

wrapped the head in a sturdy sack from which

came part of the general’s final feast.

She disposed of her bloody attire, and

dressed herself in the great general’s day

clothes.  She slipped past the sleeping guards and out

of the Seleucid camp with her prize, and

did not spare a backward glance as she once

again made the treacherous journey up

the hills of Judea.

As the sun crested the ridge, Judith slipped

unseen past the sentries who sought her out

with worried eye on the order of her

cousin, The Hammer, and entered the camp

of the free people, dressed in a man’s clothes

with a man’s blood staining her girlish face,

head unbowed, knee unbent, and the people

silently stood aside to let her pass

with her heavy burden.  Again, Judith

came before her wise cousin, The Hammer.

“I come to you with a gift,” she said, “which

I think will inspire the wounded to

tend themselves, which will feed the hungry with

hope for a future free of invaders,

and make our people strong.”  And then she pulled

the disembodied head of General

Holofernes from the sack and held it

high, a look of surprise frozen on his

great warrior face, and she smiled to keep

up the courage of the people.

The Long Break

All of a sudden, I realized that I had barely written a thing in almost three weeks.  At the conclusion of the thirty days of the haiku-a-day challenge, I felt it necessary to take a few days off from writing to release all of the static electricity that had built up in my mind from not only writing haiku, but all the other poems, short stories, and other writing projects that bubbled up during an incredibly creative period.  Unfortunately, my daughters simultaneously caught long, drawn out colds that developed into ear infections.  All of that cleared up just in time for Thanksgiving, which for the erudition of my non-American readers, is a huge secular civic holiday celebrating family, general thankfulness, and the final autumn harvest, as well as kicking off the holiday shopping season.  The continuous influx of extended family and accompanying friends coupled with the increased ambient noise of holiday cheer drowned out my inner muse for the entirety of the long weekend.  I am still working on more poems regarding the Occupy movement and the despicably violent response by several municipal governments and their representatives that I began in mid-November.  I have also begun to write more haiku and some limericks, inspired by the sublime Salman Rushdie’s Kardashian limerick, as creative jump-starters.

In the meantime, following up on a Thanksgiving tradition, I want to express how thankful I am to my wife and several close friends who have acted as beta readers for my poems prior to my posting them on North Station.  I am also very thankful for my new friends in the local North Shore of Masschusetts poetry community who have ancouraged me and made me feel welcome at poetry readings and writers groups.  Finally, I am thankful for the readers of this blog.  Thanks for the break.  More poems are on the way.