Wednesday 5 November 2014

6 Poems by by Mel Waldman


Inside the blizzard, I stare at white space, and soon I discover who I am, a prisoner of the flesh-eating storm;

& almost blind, my snow-covered eyes swirling in a snow devil,

& bare and empty for the tempest strips and shatters my soul, I am a phantom in the bestial storm.

Without skin or spirit, I vanish inside the blizzard, the cannibal that devours my raw emptiness and ancient trauma,

& after the storm crushes my monstrous ego, we become one, and in this union, the ghost of a ghost permeates the whirling whiteness,

& we become pure energy melting in the omnipotent heat of the Source, from which all life is born with a cosmic breath .


Aleph is the 1st,
Tav is the final one,

22 divine letters
dancing around the unformed universe,

completing the circle of creation;

22 sacred spheres of energy
swirling and whirling

in cosmic oneness,
emerging from the Source-

the Ultimate Nothingness-
the Without End,

where Aleph merges with Tav,
and Tav returns to the womb of Aleph,

begins the holy process of tikkun,

the repair of the broken universe,
the mending of our shattered world,

restoring the oneness of Aleph


A voyeur,
I observe the vastness behind me,
the ancient flow,
the vanishing,

old dreams buried in the deep snow,
a white coffin of the mind,
the life I led, the phantom rhapsody
dissolving in my brain;

the vanishing,
a future overflowing with multicolored
fruits plucked from the
Tree of Life
the glorious lights and sparks
dancing and flowing through the
R & B
my Being & Becoming;

the vanishing,
the life I lost,
the fierce
even the memory of the vastness behind me
will disappear
before me
I shall wait to discover and know


Inside the old mansion, he lies in a king-size bed in a mammoth room, too vast for a mournful widower.

when the red sun dies and the ruins of the night arrive, the darkness lingers too long, perhaps, forever, and it cuts his soul, a broken shell bereft of celestial glitter and divine sparks, inside the maze inside his mind; and it kills.

he wanders across the winding labyrinth of the ancient mansion, a mourner’s abyss that drops suddenly like the red sphere of the setting sun; and above and below and in all directions he searches for his dead wife, and the sweet scent of her, the illusory sensuous smell of his lovely angel, perhaps, the fanciful fragrance of pink, purple, and white lilacs.

He can’t find her. He never will. Yet he searches perpetually for the woman he still loves and the luscious perfume of her phantom soul.








My day begins at night when I sit with the silence, an old shrunken woman who stares blankly into space.

to free my caged soul, I imagine the Queen of the Galaxy is outside my tiny cell where she dreams of seducing me.

She wears a tiara above her pulchritudinous face and a white diaphanous gown that flows across the cosmos, and when her turquoise eyes gaze at me, I am naked and loved.

But still, I am buried in the coffin-like isolation room of my railroad apartment, an elongated sarcophagus, and the chimerical queen hides in the vast ruins of my meandrous mind.

here I am with the schizophrenic lady, frozen and fixed in a catatonic stare, and she is my silence, the face I see when I look into my emptiness, the death inside me that never ends in the labyrinth of the elongated night.


Open the ancient book,
The Sefer Yetzirah, The Book of Creation,

discover how our unknowable G-d,
the Source of all life,

the 22 letters of creation.

From Aleph to Tav,
He spoke the sacred letters and created the universe.

Close the ancient book,
read the Sefer Ha-Temunah, The Book of the Image,

learn about the missing letter of creation.

Once, it existed,
on the holy tablets of the 10 commandments.

But when they shattered,
the sacred letters sailed away from the broken tablets

soared to Heaven.

the 23rd letter never returned to our world.

Our sages say
that the absence of this divine letter
explains all the ineffable evil and all other sins  and

imperfections of our world.
They tell us the missing letter
is the cause of our flaws and lack and incompleteness.

What miracles shall we witness when the 23rd letter is revealed?
What new worlds will the missing letter create?


Mel Waldman, Ph. D., is a psychologist, poet, and writer whose stories have appeared in numerous magazines including HARDBOILED DETECTIVE, ESPIONAGE, THE SAINT, DOWN IN THE DIRT, CC&D, PULP METAL MAGAZINE, INNER SINS, YELLOW MAMA, and AUDIENCE.  His poems have been widely published in magazines and books including LIQUID IMAGINATION, THE BROOKLYN LITERARY REVIEW, BRICKPLIGHT, SKIVE MAGAZINE, ODDBALL MAGAZINE, POETRY PACIFIC, POETICA, RED FEZ, SQUAWK BACK, SWEET ANNIE & SWEET PEA REVIEW, THE JEWISH LITERARY JOURNAL, THE JEWISH PRESS, THE JERUSALEM POST, HOTMETAL PRESS, MAD SWIRL, HAGGARD & HALLOO, ASCENT ASPIRATIONS, and NAMASTE FIJI: THE INTERNATIONAL ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY. A past winner of the literary GRADIVA AWARD in Psychoanalysis, he was nominated for a PUSHCART PRIZE in literature and is the author of 11 books. He recently completed an experimental mystery novel inspired by one of Freud’s case studies. He has been inspired for decades by his patients and their heroic stories of trauma and survival.;

No comments:

Post a Comment