TOVLI SIMIRYAN
WHY WRITE; WHY CREATE; WHY TELL A STORY?
...BECAUSE THE THOUGHTS WE'VE BEEN TOLD ARE MERELY IMAGINATIVE SHOULD BE CAPTURED AND RE-PLANTED IN THE WORLD AS IF THEY ARE LITTLE FLOWERS ABOUT TO FLOAT AWAY FOREVER.
WELCOME TO TOVLI's HUMBLE HABITAT
"I'd like the satisfaction of knowing that I caused millions of people around the world to realize that there are more things than we've been told exist."
The Amazing Kreskin, 1971
POEM OF THE DAY
A lot has happened in the world since 2023.
We are at war with fascism.
Anti-Semitism is exploding in America and world-wide.
Who would have guessed?
But...we're still here.
We're writing poems.
We're sharing our poems.
We're supporting poets...past, present and future!
To read the poem of the day go to "Tovli's Writing Projects" page.
It's April 2024!
It's time to write a poem a day!
READ TODAY'S POEM
Day 25 Write an anagrammatic poem. Choose a word for a title, and in your poem, use only words with the letters in your title.
Of Course, I’ll Keep Your Secret…
Your keeper?
Your sour rye?
Your cure?
Of course! Look up. I’ll pour the soup.
Your core.
Your secret rue.
Your pull.
Of course. Pious fool. I’ll fleece your foe.
Your soul.
Your loop.
Your look.
Of course! Self-epicure. Reuse our peers.
You pursue
Your opus.
You’re coy.
Of course. I’ll spike your luck.
You’re ill.
You’re sore.
You’ll elope.
Of course…your source is loose.
You peel
You fell
You rise.
Of course. I’ll keep your secret pure.
© Tovli 2024
Paul Celan wrote a poem after he met
Nelly Sachs in Zurich at the Stork Hotel:
Our talk was of your God, I spoke
against him, I let the heart
I had
hope:
for
his highest, death-rattled, his
wrangling word—
Your eye looked at me, looked away,
your mouth
spoke toward the eye, I heard:
We really don’t know, you know,
we
really don’t know
what counts.
Day 24 The epigram is a two-line, witty poem, usually rhymed, usually untitled.
Epigrams: Pesach in America—5784
Their tongues are fatty like worms.
Their short eyes have dried from germs.
Their words poke like knives.
Their terrorist soul demands our lives.
They decreed this war.
They wound our eyes and locked the door.
Just think, there is no country beneath our feet;
Just America, safely tucked inside our enemy’s backseat.
Some whistle, then laugh.
Some are certain God will write the epitaph.
© Tovli 2024