Thursday, 5 November 2015

5 Poems by Steven Wittenberg Gordon

Morale Call

I was finally granted a “morale call”
on the iridium satellite phone.
Five Minutes Only.

Thank God my wife picked up.

It was so good to hear
her voice and let her know
I was all right.

Our daughter was hit in the face
by a swing.  A bloody nose

Our son was having problems
in school but was otherwise handling
my absence well.

She was planning a trip
to look at possible sites
for my future civilian practice.

But my future plans seemed distant,
mired as I was in the present.

She told she was proud
of me and that she loved me.

I love you.  I miss you.

And then the call was over.

Sweeping Puddles Away

I spent much of the day,
As it rained over night,
Sweeping puddles away

Of mosquitoes that prey.
In controlling their blight
I spent much of the day.

Of the eggs that they lay
And their larva so white
Sweeping puddles away

Is what keeps them at bay.
So in this endless fight
I spent much of the day.

For my flight surgeon’s pay
My broom moved left and right
Sweeping puddles away

Lest mosquitoes would play
And then breed, bloom, and bite,
I spent much of the day
Sweeping puddles away.

Atlanta’s Triolet

If you believe that you should be
The one to share my marriage bed
Then race me through the forest free
If you believe that you should be
The one to spend your life with me
But lose and you shall lose your head
If you believe that you should be
The one to share my marriage bed

Chick Magnet

The Prince of Troy was offered powerful gifts from each goddess:
A silver diadem of wisdom from grey-eyed Athena,
A golden belt of virtue from the regal, jealous Hera,
A magic ebon bow from the virgin huntress Artemis.
However it was Aphrodite’s gift that the young prince chose--
A seemingly ordinary ring of the darkest lodestone
Suspended from a thong of ordinary braided leather.
Aphrodite placed her gift ‘round the neck of her champion,
And when the smooth stone settled against the prince’s naked breast,
Even proud Hera was forced to lay her jealousy aside
To admire the sudden radiant beauty of the youth.

Europa goddess moon

Frigid.  Under the blanket.  Of sea ice
The womb.  Always quickens
A god in disguise
Penetrates.  Deep.  Beneath.
Life swimming.


A poet, writer, physician, and gentleman songster, Steven Wittenberg Gordon, MD was raised in the dairy country of upstate New York. He received his BA from Amherst College and his MD from Albany Medical College, and then completed a family practice residency in Wisconsin. After practicing medicine for several years in various locations, he volunteered for service with the United States Air Force and had many memorable adventures as a flight surgeon.  While on active duty, he played a small part in the military’s response to the tragic tsunami that struck Indonesia in 2004--“Morale Call” and “Sweeping Puddles Away” are part of a larger body of work that was inspired by that experience. Doctor Gordon resides in Kansas with his human family and a poorly trained Airedale terrier. He continues to maintain a modest concierge medical practice and keeps himself ready and available to perform physicals on military recruits when USMEPCOM calls upon him for aid. His poetry appears regularly in Scifaikuest, Eternal Haunted Summer, Asimov's, and, of course, Songs of Eretz. Doctor Gordon is a member of the Codex Writers' Group and the editor of Songs of Eretz Poetry Review. Visit him at, follow him on Twitter @SongsofEretz, or email him at

No comments:

Post a Comment