About robertaGould

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So far robertaGould has created 21 blog entries.

Mothers Day, 2012

May 13, 2012

Mother marveled
as she listened to Dad read the want ads
in the New York Review of Books,
someone in braces seeking
a mid-day rendez-vous on Wall Street,
another into good looks, money ,
with a knowledge of Turkish and
Buxtehuede’s Magnificat

…God!
What they want! mother exclaimed
raising her shoulders
with a gasp of amzement,
knowing compromise well
not married to a Hollywood star
or a saint

I’d picked up the publication on the subway
not knowing romance was advertised
on the back pages,
pondering with some measure of success
the meaning of its brilliant theories
and disquisitions
which followed the cover’s bright headlines

My friend Judy subscribed to it
but I was not focused as she
a bit nervous like my father
I gave it a try anyhow
Fnding it was a sign
I brought it home
not thinking Dad would read it,
he with just a grade school education
though fast with numbers like the Chinese with abacus

I’ll say no more about my parents
how their marriage was not made in heaven
with nothing exotic, forbidden , no pre-barroque music,
but how it got me here, I who am not an angel,
I who  brought laughter’s revelation into their home

By |2012-05-14T02:08:06+00:00May 14th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Mothers Day, 2012

I Saw Them

I Saw Them
(L’Uomo che Verra… Director: Giorgio Diritti )

It was another massacre of the innocent
minding their business living,
they with peasant clothes
not neatly pressed like the Nazis’

who gunned them down near an empty building
and the church. all 700 of them.
I knew what they‘d do didn’t need another enactment
how the crime would enfold in the filmic telling

It wasn’t artistic curiosity that  held me
or the wonders of a new language
Bolognese which I barely understood
but the desire not to abandon them

to know and retell it  though they were only  actors
not the ones who were really murdered
the tots and the infants, the five year olds who were crying
the mothers holding them,  the panic and screaming

__________________________________________

The MARZABOTTO massacre was a World War II mass murder of at least 770 civilians by Germans, which took place in the territory around the small village of Marzabotto, in the mountainous area south of Bologna. It was the worst massacre of civilians committed by the Waffen SS in Italy during the war.

By |2012-04-21T16:06:10+00:00April 21st, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on I Saw Them

First Maple Leaves

First Maple Leaves

Clustered like a cupped hand’s fingers
they hang from
twig shoots
Sudden as a nest of bird mouths
they begin the month tiny and definite

Like litters of limp kittens
wherever the gaze lights
they seem ready to wander
though they are going nowhere

Each, with three others inverted,
forms a half open umbrella
dangles delicate there
before grown separate and stiff

they spread themselves flat
on invisible perches
receive all the sun they can get
and shelter us

By |2012-04-16T14:50:45+00:00April 16th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on First Maple Leaves

Sue’s Painting

Sue’s Painting

The blue arch over fire’s horizon
blood and ocean
as complete as clouds allow
reaches Sue
and is affixed to the canvass

Is that smoke ascending
to the south, billowing purple?
And the parrots watching 
are they yellow bibbed warriors 
or simply her imagination, yours
and mine?

By |2012-02-15T12:34:03+00:00February 15th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Sue’s Painting

Wislawa Symborska

We lost a treasure of a poet on Wednesday.  The depth and simplicity of  Wislawa Symborska’s work reflect a great soul who has left us and who will be missed.

TRUE LOVE

True love. Is it normal,
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions, but convinced
it had to happen this way–in reward for what? For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not others?
Doesn’t this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn’t it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn’t they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends’ sake!
Listen to them laughing–it’s an insult.
The language they use–deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines–
it’s obviously a plot behind the human race’s back!

It’s hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? what renounced?
Who’d want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life’s highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn’t populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there’s no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.


By |2012-02-04T02:47:00+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Wislawa Symborska

Next to Nothing

No greater than the sum

of cancer’s brigade

advanced over the border

at 57th Street 

to your skin

Smaller than the gem 

on you thumb

pointing strontium

to flee from

(half-a-life)

Oh tiny

as the pretext for war

all gadgetry’s required

to inflate

A few piranha at your feet

One fine anopheles

The little tse tse 

Pretty grains of wheat missing

Seeds

minute still

ripped from terraced hill

in deluge down to wayside ditch

and swelling up and splitting

 

 

    

    Published Synaesthesia

 

 

 

By |2012-02-04T02:07:08+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Next to Nothing

History

       “Those who cannot remember
the past are condemned to repeat it”           

The back rooms were bus
as Napoleon started to fall
and new types of murder were devised
for the future and map change

In the sophisticated theater of the absurd
two hundred years later
a million lieutenants believed
they were holding golden apples

and the people didn’t how to read
aside from the engineers of evil
the 2nd or 3rd in command
with their pipeline to Puppet for a Day

So it was was repeated one more time!
with guffaws or with shrieks from the tortured
as the birds faded, the cicadas electrically buzzed
and a few stomachs gurgled, after the banquet

Published Durable Goods 39

By |2012-02-04T01:46:10+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on History

2010

Several     2010

DUET

I wanted to do a somersault

at the height of senectitude

But my eye glasses cracked

and three bones couldn’t perform

So I took up acting

My dog crossed the stage

at the climax and barked

The audience was confused

as I stood in the wings

and she cocked her head

under the lights gazed at me

awaiting my words and my voice,

which were her music

Feb.22, 2010

STATIONS

The bones are growing

but brain is folding up

You’’re on a trip

a vacation

not a care in your head

Drink your milk, they say

you obey with exquisite fromage

to live a century and a half

more than your bible has promised

Now what?

You don’t ask

the stations of your cross

are new

and special

They pleasure you

at each

Even the whips are a good

in this life of queens

and kings

the earth neatly divided

a blind fold when your new vehicle

passes beggars on the road

and a few lepers

as you head for the next stop

and give yourself to your masters

4/27/2010

WINDOW

The squirrels were scurrying

Three of them frolicking

or mating

in the trees

fronded boughs obscuring

what was happening

But there were flashes

of movement

feelings of happiness

a pigeon passing overhead

and a pencil that followed

jotting it down

May 2010

LATE

I was a bit remiss

Forgive me

There was a car race, a ball game, a

broken connection to the internet

and the latest technological wonder

come to town

Nothing personal, no slight in this

I swear it

Simply that my recall failed

so that I remembered a day late

which was too late

And now I can’t tell you!

So I display my burdened time

to readers who are confirm

in others’ words

regretting that you’ve departed for good

as I stop a moment and realize

what seemed to be a mental entity

was your flesh and your blood

May, 2010

By |2010-06-20T22:17:13+00:00June 20th, 2010|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on 2010
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