The Holy Temple came into play in a very big way
When Rosh Hashana fell on the Sabbath Day
Nowhere else were permitted shofar blasts
An historic glimpse into Israel's past
The issue, not the actual shofar blowing
But its transporting, if you will -- its 'towing'
For on the Sabbath, to carry an item is not allowed
Not even a shofar to fulfill a precept for a synagogue crowd
Yet into the Holy Temple, carrying was permitted
Ten sacrifices brought: sheep and rams admitted
Expiation for Israel's sins required every day
Her moral compass not allowed to decay
There is no Temple today, Rosh Hashana will come and go
This year on the Sabbath, our shofars lay low
Categories:
shofars, culture, history, jewish, loss,
Form: Couplet
The rabbi had a lot of trouble
Blowing the shofar.*
The congregation waited
But the sounds were just bizarre.
Some strangled bursts of air came out
But music was resistant.
The notes he tried to play, I’d say,
Were pretty non-existent.
He tried three shofars – all were long,
The pride of any ram,
Including those who wandered
In the time of Abraham.
With children gathered at his feet,
The rabbi seemed distraught,
For with his biggest audience,
His efforts came to naught.
But then he grabbed, a last resort,
The smallest shofar yet.
Without a fancy curvy shape,
What music could he get?
He took a breath and we all smiled –
A golden tone emerged,
Outshining all those shofars
On which somebody had splurged.
That little shofar saved the day;
Its sound was strong and clear
And hopefully, it will be first
To have a chance next year.
*a ram’s horn blown on the Jewish holiday
of Rosh Hashanah (the highlight of the service)
Categories:
shofars, holiday, jewish, music,
Form: Rhyme
The hearts that do not beat
Quiet in the viaduct;
A steeled echo husked
Alchemic clones vastly entreat.
I slipped you a talking pill
As the loam, pulsing dust of cars
Filled up on dark shofars.
I slip on an unwritten will.
Eerie green bolts fill the firmament;
Arbor confusion hangs an effigy
Inviting the serial hinterlands decree
To dream green seals the parchment.
The serrated squid with a man's face
Opens its serpent eyes, preemptive;
Swamp spirits deliberate a redemptive
blue hesper corroding Man's one race.
I am Electricity—I laugh at thunder
Bellowing at my helm, unaware
That electricity is not all I share
With my unseen body: Heark Asunder.
Gryphons, gargoyles and cornsilk eyes
Trifecta on the organ: my song
Of deafness slides into deep wrong,
As a wish to eradicate all a wish denies.
Our hearts unlocked that haste to bleed
inky filth in the sleeping bag,
plush lips imparting terror gag
at pitch-lit bones' fireless greed.
Categories:
shofars, horror, surreal,
Form: Quatrain