Just Literature discussion

I dreamt a dream that I'm still a child,
Here's home.
In a minute the door will open
Letting in my parents, my sister.
I'm foolishly beguiled!
They were all swept off by a gust, into the wild

I'm alone
No longer a child.


When my father wrote these words, which to me are profoundly heart wrenching, he still knew the difference between dream and reality. The door, he realized, would never open, and it remains there as a poetic symbol of hope, of yearning for something that can never happen, not only because of his advanced age--but also because his parents and his sister perished during the holocaust.

But during the last year of his life, that border between what is real and what is a dream, a poetic symbol, became thinner and thinner, and thus more illusive to him. He would crouch by that door, banging his fist upon it and begging his mommy to open that door. Then, as a mercy to his sanity, he passed away at the age of ninety four.

This was, and still is, quite painful to me. Having witnessed it I wrote several pieces--some poems, some short stories--about the thinning of the border in his mind. These pieces are all inspired by my vision of his life, as I saw it in retrospect when I came to mourn for him. This vision also inspired my oil painting which became the cover of the book, Home. Here is a detail of it, showing the door and his armchair, ascending in the air above the turmoil, the grief...



So here is an excerpt from one of the poems in Home, which highlights the vision of the door as a thinning border:

That door sealed him off, away from all danger
Except from the depth of the danger within
No one could intrude here, except for the stranger
Who would carry him off to where his end would begin—

The poet, who’d mourned the loss of his mother
Would then, somehow, be reduced to a child
He would crouch at the threshold, and call, call, call, call her
Knock, knock, knock at the door; no more held back, but wild

And here, another excerpt, this time from a short story about my father:

"And then, trying to ignore the ticking, the loud, insistent ticking of the clock from the adjacent kitchen, you too would, perhaps, start sensing a presence. Voices would be coming from a different place, a place within. A faint footfall… A soft laughter... Who is there? He glances nervously at the entrance door. Is it locked? Can a stranger get in? Then—quite unexpectedly—the fear subsides and for the first time, gives way to something else. Something wells up in his throat. Why, why is the door locked?
He feels a sudden urge to crawl down, get to that threshold, and cry. Mommy! Open the door! Let me in, mommy! Let me come home! But for now, he can still hold it in. He forces himself to turn away from that door. Somehow it feels lighter in the dark. The bareness of this space, which was once adorned with rich Persian rugs, colorful oil paintings and fine furnishings, is more bearable this way. So is the weight of loneliness."

Home
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Your story inspired me to write a poem...
Memories.
As a father, I can only say,
I hope with all my heart, that maybe one day,
My children will think of me,
And hold my memory in such high regard,
The way you do for your father passed.
I'm sure I'll feel my life's been worthwhile,
For I've had the chance to love and to smile,
Sometimes our recollections are all that remain,
Life is too short, but memories sustain...
A.S.

Amelia wrote: "Your story inspired me to write a poem...
Memories.
As a father, I can only say,
I hope with all my heart, that maybe one day,
My children will think of me,
And hold my memory in such high regard,..."

Wow Amelia, this is so beautiful!
And, I'm glad that the poem I posted inspired you to write this one. It is so touching! Looking forward to more mutual inspirations!

Here is my conversation at the wonderful Arts and Media radio show Anything Goes, with the great host: Bennet Pomeranz. He asked great questions, some of which readers and listeners had asked him about my work. I was elated to hear that he read my books, and to hear his impressions about them.

Take a listen:
Anything goes! A lovely chat with Bennet

Clarissa Simmens says, "I am so grateful that my poetry is able to be published and stored in the modern version of what author Carlos R. Zafon has called The Cemetery of Forgotten Books." She is the author of seveal books, and I am thrilled that this is what she said about my poetry book,

Overall ★★★★★
Performance ★★★★★
Story ★★★★★

"Soul-Touching"
Would you recommend this audiobook to a friend? If so, why?
I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys poetry, family relationships and the universal emotions echoing in my heart, this luminous combination of autobiography and dialog between a man who has died and his surviving daughter?

Who was your favorite character and why?
Both the strengths and fraility of the mother and the father were portrayed excellently.

Have you listened to any of Kathy Bell Denton’s other performances before? How does this one compare?
I have not heard any of her other performances, but I was mesmerized by her voice and the power of the performance.

Was there a moment in the book that particularly moved you?
The yearning many of us share by using the magical metaphor of “life rewinded,” reflecting the theme in her father’s poetry.

Any additional comments?
The combination of both the powerful poetry and performance has made this a book worth listening to many times.

Get ★★★★★ HOME
♥ Audio ♥ http://www.audible.com/pd/Drama-Poetr...
♥ Ebook ♥ http://bookShow.me/B00960TE3Y
♥ Print ♥ http://bookShow.me/0984993231

A wonderfully perceptive review for my poetry book, Home:
★★★★★ Read "Home" and be the better for it., August 10, 2014
By Amazon Customer "lokhos" (USA) - See all my reviews
Verified Purchase

Uvi Poznansky had a father, like most of us; a family, as most of us do for a time. But this father was a gifted writer, as his daughter is gifted. This book is partly written by Uvi's father, Zeev Kachel, and partly by her own deep heart. This is no book for the faint of heart, nor a book to read casually. This book is full of love and pathos and grief. So take a deep gulp of the human condition, and read Home -- a book, a compilation, a struggle of the self.
This book is about emotion and the strength that sadness can evoke in the best of us. Uvi understands at a gut level the purpose of art and here she writes a frame around her father's journey, which has inspired her own.
Poznansky gives us a glimpse of lives most different, of her father's journey, of her own. If you've disdained the search for a higher octave of writing on Kindle, recant: "Home" proves you wrong. In this book, the author shows us the world through an unblinking eye. And what we see, we may not like: humanity torn open, a father lost, life among the ruins of a single soul.
Be warned: this book is dark; it must be to take us where it wants to go, to guide us through a storm of feeling. Zeev Kachel's numerous poems in "Home" share his loneliness, his talent -- and hers as she writes, evoking a spirit from beyond life's end.
I have well reviewed Uvi Poznansky before, but this book is special, even for a writer as gifted as she. Of her father, I knew nothing. Now I know more. And I am certain that talent is inheritable: we must thank the father for the daughter, and the daughter for writing a book this brave. The poems and stories here take us through war and displacement and despair, and back again. Its visions (not so much about horror directly, but about what horrors and inhumanity do to us all, soul by soul) have a message for us, about what humanity can be, for better and for worse. Why do we care? Because, if we're not vigilant, these things will happen again to more fathers, to more daughters. And again. And it is the single voices which cry out in misery (those who have lost their faith as well as those who regain it), whose words we need to hear. This book takes us on a personal journey, not a political one, into the heart of our kind.
The triumph of "Home" is that it was ever written at all.
Read "Home" and be the better for it.

Get ★★★★★ HOME
♥ Ebook ♥ http://bookShow.me/B00960TE3Y
♥ Print ♥ http://bookShow.me/0984993231
♥ Audio ♥ http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible

Just because... Here is a little poem:

She:
I dabbed a drop of perfume right under my ear
As soon as I laid eyes on you, here
You dance with such rhythm, such elegant flair
I adore your bald spot and your dwindling hair

He:
I think of myself as a dashing young man
No surprise you came over when the music began
You smell so good, I feel such a bliss
Leaning over to you, can I hope for a kiss?

She:
I wore my best dress, with the arms left bare,
Painted my lips, put a rose in my hair
I love dancing with such a tall gentleman
My heart is yours, hold me tight if you can

He:
Let me lift you up high into the air
Come fly with me, if only you dare
To hang on my arm and trust every step
Let us tango together, now your weight I must shlep


I love sculpting dancing figures, because not only is the dance dynamic--
but it expresses the relationship between the dancers.
I made this piece of clay, burnt it in the kiln and painted it.

Don’t open your eyes
Try not to see
Things are no longer
Where things ought to be

That voice—is it her?
Behind a closed door
She calls you a stranger
Your mother no more

Breathe through the moment
Turn, turn your eyes
The past you imagined
Was all lies, lies, lies

Things are no longer
Where things ought to be
Who is this stranger
Is it still me?

(included in Home)

this is really inspiring..hope one day i will be able to write like this

Wendy wrote: "this is really inspiring..hope one day i will be able to write like this"

Thank you so much Wendy, so rewarding to hear this, and I wish you all the best with your writing.

Thank you God bless you

I love both poems. I wrote a blog yesterday entitled "What is a Home?" at didner.blogspot.com There are as many definitions of home as there are people. Not only will I read your book, but I will assign it to my college class of Contemporary Literature.

Sandy wrote: "I love both poems. I wrote a blog yesterday entitled "What is a Home?" at didner.blogspot.com There are as many definitions of home as there are people. Not only will I read your book, but I wil..."

That is exactly what this book explores! Thank you so much Wendy, I'm thrilled to know that you are teaching contemporary literature! I would love to here what you think about the poetry once you've read the book, and would love to hear what your students think of it as well.

Heading to read your article in the blog...

.........

Just read it and left a comment. What a great question you posed! Love the way you explore it.

Thomas Baker is an author of romance, historical fiction, autobiographical, sports history/biography, and English Language Teaching. He is also a top Amazon reviewer, who ranks top 1000. I am thrilled to find his review of my book, Home:

★★★★★ "Home" is Exquisite, Extraordinary, Unique, & Superb, August 30, 2014
By Thomas Baker "Thomas is the Past-President of TESOL Chile (2010-2011). He is the Head of the English Department at Colegio Internacional SEK in Santiago."
Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Home (Kindle Edition)
This is an extraordinary book. I had read other books from Uvi Poznansky before so I knew I was in for an enjoyable read. What makes this book extraordinary is the fact that it represents the efforts of Uvi to render a fitting tribute to her father, Zeev Kachel. It is a collection of poems and prose, half written by her, and half by her father. This combination is unique, and made even more so by its posthumous nature.

This brings to mind Natalie Cole singing a duet with her late father, Nat King Cole. My favorite is listening to both of them singing, "Unforgettable". Here's how she describes it: ""I think it's always a little bit bittersweet when I do it," Cole said of recording duets with her late father, who passed at age 45 from lung cancer, "but I do love to do it because I feel so connected to him. ... It's still emotional, but it still feels good, so you always still want to hold on to that feeling." (Source: ET interview)

Here's how Uvi describes "Home": "Home. A simple word; a loaded one. You can say it in a whisper; you can say it in a cry. Expressed in the voices of father and daughter you can hear a visceral longing for an ideal place, a place never to be found again." (end of quote)

As a teacher, the poem written by Zeev Kachel that caught my attention the most is called, "My Teachers". It is profoundly insightful, personifying "chill", "time" and "dream", essentially elevating these three concepts to the status of teacher. Coming to the poem, I am expecting the story of "real" teachers who impacted his life in a memorable way, and instead, I am greeted with a metaphorical trinity who are uniquely worthy of the status accorded them by the poet. For me, this is a very powerful, evocative poem that I am able to relate to.

In sum, allow me only one word: extraordinary. I have seen no other book like this. It is superb, exquisite, a literary duo that rivals the musical duo of Natalie and Nat King Cole in every way. Highly recommended.

Get ★★★★★ HOME
♥ Ebook ♥ http://bookShow.me/B00960TE3Y
♥ Print ♥ http://bookShow.me/0984993231
♥ Audio ♥ http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible

Home

"Deep, thought-proving, achingly beautiful story"
Overall ★★★★★
Performance ★★★★★
Story ★★★★★
Would you listen to Home again? Why?
I'll want to listen to Home many times because not only is Home is filled with wisdom and pathos, but it is beautifully written and narrated. Any son or daughter will want to listen to Home: it's about relationships and lessons as old as time.

What was one of the most memorable moments of Home?
The moment when the daughter finds the silent movie projector in a cabinet, dusty and nearly forgotten. She knows this find will change her life forever, and so do we.

Have you listened to any of Kathy Bell Denton’s other performances before? How does this one compare?
This is the first of Denton's narrations I have heard, and it impressed me enough that I will look for others.

Did you have an extreme reaction to this book? Did it make you laugh or cry?
This book shakes the soul. Yes, there is laughter, but the giddy laughter of coming to terms with tragedy, with life, with death.

Any additional comments?
Home is a book that opens the soul. Reading it is mesmerizing. The story it tells is a story everyone should hear. I listened in one sitting the first time, and am looking forward to sharing it with my husband. For anyone who has lost a parent, or knows that loss comes soon, this book is a must. I recommend both this edition and the Kindle for those whose souls are aching, and those coming to terms with what life and death really mean.

Get ★★★★★ HOME
♥ Audio ♥ http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible
♥ Ebook ♥ http://bookShow.me/B00960TE3Y
♥ Print ♥ http://bookShow.me/0984993231

"And then she left him.
He looks at the line. It is written in blue ink, pressed into the sheet of paper—vigorously here, faintly there—with his usual stroke, a stroke that drives through the spikes and valleys in the shapes of the letters at a steady slant. The line reaches the margin, where it is punctuated, unexpectedly, by a red stain..."

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The line reaches the margin, where it is punctuated by a red stain

Somewhere at night a string sings out
All's dark, silent, filled with doubt
I'm alone, and you?
Out there, in the cold, a string sings out

To read more, click here:
After You're Gone

We were born in darkness, crying a fit
Like grains of sand, countless stars came up, lit,
We wanted to turn back to the warm womb
Instead we were wrapped by chill and by gloom

Born in darkness, we labored so hard
To find our way in this universe
We were greeted by its hug, the cruelty of its curse
Its predators' jaws... We were forced to traverse.

Ma, why did you fool me, what was it for,
When you sang me a lullaby, not a song of war?
Oh why did you hide the ugly truth from me
We were born in darkness, our life--not to be?
Written by My father,
Translated from Hebrew by me

Get ★★★★★ HOME
Ebook http://bookShow.me/B00960TE3Y
Print http://bookShow.me/0984993231
Audio http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible
‪#‎AudioBooks‬ ‪#‎poetry‬

Friday night we have a date
Come right here to celebrate
This is when and where and what
You may win prizes! Don’t miss out:

Join the king and me in the Royal gardens

I'm blessed for the pleasure, blessed for the agony
Blessed for the fear, the pain of it all
In which I was steeped, in this reality
And granted the chance to endure or to fall--

To read more, and listen to the lovely narration from HOME, click here:
Thanksgiving: I'm Blessed for the pleasure, blessed for the agony

I live here with no joy, no regret
And scribble little rhymes just for me
I live... No longer preach at the gate,
Nor squash any ants carelessly.
In their hiding place they seem to await
And observe me, in all probability--

Take a listen to one of my fathers' profoundly great poems:
I live here on paint and on toxoid

The lamp swings like a pendulum
Pictures sway on their nails
Then slip down the walls, leaving scratched trails
Amidst the quake, the grief, the confusion and scare
Slowly ascending is my father's armchair--

To read more, and listen to the beautiful narration, click here:
He's ascending into the arms of his muse, his mother

When my father passed away, I went back home for the traditional Shiva-a, the seven days period of mourning. Perhaps the grief did something to change the way I viewed things, or else it was sitting in that space--my childhood home--in a spot I rarely sat before--

To read more click here:
Seeing my home through a fish eye

At this moment, a man is lying in his armchair, propped up on a large pillow. He has lived, or rather, has confined himself within these walls for decades, for a reason unknown. In this stagnant place all sounds are muffled, all images erased – but for one thing: his youth. There is a vibrant longing in him for the adventures of his early days--

To read more click here:
Was it not just yesterday when he left his home in Poland, never to see his parents again?

Now I will try on a little red dress
Lick chocolate-dipped strawberries, and let you caress
All of me... Oh let me kiss you, my sweet valentine
With lips that are glistening with rosy red wine—

To read more click here
Now I will try on a little red dress

Double, double misfortune, trouble 
Burning coal and blackening rubble
Let the blood in my caldron boil
Feed the flames... Oh, such a toil!—

To read more click here:
Let the blood in my caldron boil

Every day I tear a leaf
From my calendar, blanched by the sun
Here's spring... It is so brief
Leaves now falling, one by one...

Once more it's spring, the fragrance's sweet
And blossom spreads again, again
With graying hair, there in the street
I sit: a lonely, crestfallen man

Do you remember: a student’s room
With a single narrow iron bed
That eve, of golden summer bloom
We fried potatoes, words unsaid

The plates we set down on the floor
And filled our glass with cheap, warm wine
Between our kisses, love we swore...
For that lost moment, how I pine!

A star came on, peeking in
Out of the depth of a strange, dark night
The entire world was here within
A serenade of love, delight

(Poem by my father, included in my book, Home)

Get ★★★★★ HOME #free:
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A sad story about a happy man, a man who
Loved poems, women, and a calm core
A sad story that crashed against the cliff, crashed onto 
A cold, indifferent shore—

To read more click here:
Without compass

I'm so elated to discover a wonderful review, written by a Top 500 Amazon Reviewer, for my poetry book, Home:

★★★★★ ~~Intense/Personal/Emotional/Incredible~~
By Chief, USN Ret...VT Town TOP 500 REVIEWERo

This is an incredible book of poems and prose written by Ms. Poznansky and her father, Zeek Kachel. Uvi found the latest writings of her father when she went 'home' for Shiva - a and never knew that they existed. She spent one year carefully translating them from Hebrew into English ensuring the translation was as correct as possible.

It is extremely rare that a book creates such an emotional read as this one did for me. I had to stop several times to completely digest the words written on the pages. Due to the personal nature of both Uvi's and her Father's poems, I felt like I was trespassing into their private worlds. Yes, I was invited into their worlds but the prose and the poetry contained therein are both deep and meaningful. I could feel the pain of the Father when lamenting about his wife's absence. I could feel the pain of Uvi when lamenting about being lonely in 'Even One Mark'. And, I am still pondering 'Blade' which was written in 2004. These are raw emotions that are somehow eloquently expressed with grace.

The entire gamut of human emotions is covered in this book - heartbreak, loneliness, questions of 'why', death and living, life and loving and even war and the instinct to survive. 'Somehow it feels lighter in the dark' is one quote that sums the book up well.

Most highly recommended.

Get ★★★★★ HOME:
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#Audiobook http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible

Home

A short and sweet review for my poetry book, Home:

★★★★★ Amazing read!!
By Mrs. Violetteon, Verified Purchase
I got goosebumps throughout this book. The manner in which the words are written are the most bone chillingly, expressive I've ever read. Very talented writer, great work. Looking forward to reading more from the author.

Get ★★★★★ HOME:
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#nook http://tinyurl.com/nook-home
#iTunes http://tinyurl.com/appl-home
#Smashwords http://tinyurl.com/smsh-home
#Kobo http://tinyurl.com/kobo-home
#print http://bookShow.me/0984993231
#Audiobook http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible

Every day I tear a leaf
From my calendar, blanched by the sun
Here's spring... It is so brief
Leaves now falling, one by one...

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Every day I tear a leaf

It felt like evening, noon, morning, and suddenly night again; winter, fall, summer, and suddenly spring again. Edna touched her body. It seemed more agile, more slender. A change was upon her; she could sense it despite her drowsiness. She turned over. By some strange twist, she fancied that she was suddenly flat chested. 
Curiously, the sleepier she became—the more her body awakened. It ached with desire. She must have boxed up this feeling and now, it could no longer be denied—

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Winter, fall, summer, and suddenly spring again

See there, a couple just passed in embrace.
We used to walk this way, do you still remember?
You looked forward to my coming.
In the midst of spring blossom, here's the sorrow of fall.
And the recognition that it's all over--

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In the midst of spring blossom

Straight ahead is the door with a big handle high above. He can easily reach it, standing on the tips of his toes and pushing, pushing forward. It opens! Here is the room, which he shares with his sister, Batia. He is three yours old; she is five. And somehow he knows: she will come in later, much later. He can climb into bed now. Sleep is coming; he can feel it. Sleep is almost here--

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His first home

I'm not sorry for the hours that I wasted
Suspended in my dreams and idle thought
I'm not sorry for the days I ruined
The only thing I care about is the luster I did blot

I care that that’s the way our lives are going
In power games, for which we'll pay the price,
I ache, because of our misunderstanding
Because that which is between us turned hard as ice

To read more, click here:
https://uviart.blogspot.fr/2018/01/im...

Be still, poet's heart, this moment is rare
Stop this hammering, why would you dare
To set up a challenge, to write your own fate
Be still and accept, perhaps it's too late--

To read more click here:
Be Still, A Poet’s Heart

Don’t open your eyes
Try not to see
Things are no longer
Where things ought to be

To read more, click here:
Don't open your eyes