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Jacob’s Bridge Across Time

March 27, 2013
DRAGONS, DESERTS and DREAMS
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Jacob’s Bridge Across Time

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Painting and Poem Jacob’s Bridge Across Time Copyright To Anne Frandi-Coory –

All rights reserved  27 March 2013  –

Painting acrylic on canvas 60cm x 91cm

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The poem Jacob’s Bridge Across Time was published in: The Australia Times Poetry Magazine, Volume 4, Issue 24.

32

Granddad, oh how could you leave
before I had time to question?
A child I was too young to grieve;
where have you been, what have you done?
…

Oh yes, your diary I have read
how you travelled and how you learned.
But there’s so very much left unsaid
from your own lips I long to hear
…

Along countless streets you have walked
in this fair country and in that.
To many people you have talked
alas, not to the woman I’ve become.
…
Across vast oceans you have sailed
such a brave soul to take on such.
Through hardships and illness you’ve prevailed
and gave me life through your son
…
So many if onlys I have in mind
of what we could have discussed.
I’m so sure, granddad, we’re of a kind
kindred spirits still in touch

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A bright future you handed down to us
leaving Lebanon’s snowy mountains
where cedars hug like green cumulus
your little village nestled safely within.
…

Fat grapes clinging to their vine
olive trees abundantly grow there.
For that fertile crescent did you pine
and the family you left behind.
…

I see you walking across the bridge of time
and I imagine we’re holding hands
what a journey that would have been
sharing together, life’s shifting sands

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Hi, happy to discover your blog. Just read your poem, ‘Jacob’s Bridge Across Time’…a wonderful tribute it is.   Greetings from India… 🙂  Maniparna Sengupta Marjumder 

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Dedicated to my Lebanese grandfather, Jacob Habib El Khouri Eleishah Fahkrey (Coory) as I remember him:

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Also published in DRAGONS, DESERTS and DREAMS  in 2017 : Read reviews Here

Available here at AMAZON in Kindle e book or paperback  

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Scar Tissue – (Poem for a broken heart)

March 18, 2013
Collaborative Poems
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miranda_john_william_waterhouse 600


I remember only living at night, unable to differentiate the real;
To wake was pain, to sleep was pain, to forget was horror;
And to remember was pain…
<>
But as a child, I always picked at my scabs.
Sometimes they bled again, but seeing the new pink flesh was
Reassuring. Is this what I was doing now, in remembering?
<>
How many times have I heard the adage: what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger? I always thought it seemed somewhat trite,
but now find it intrinsically real.
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How much stronger then? How much more torment?
Nauseated with supposedly ever-empowering ache,
I lean on the looming horror of forgetting…and invite it in.
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In the fog I search for an essential component of me that’s missing.
Like a ship with no rudder, forced to go where the wind dictates.
My only solace is to drift unprotected and pray for calm.
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I’ve seen you, tumultuous sea, suddenly give up the fight
Joining hands with wind and clouds, to settle the waves.
Should I lay down now, allow death’s arms to soothe me?
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But as I wait, I feel that with each wave my pain recedes
from deep inside I gather strength to raise and meet a hostile world
I turn my back and leave
<>
I can face the world with strength from hardened scar-tissue

Collaborative Poem by:

*Permabloom *Jdubqca *Brudberg *MyVogonPoetry *vivchook *afcoory *troublegummer

Painting by John Waterhouse: Tempest