love

On the Patio of his spanish house
Salvador Dali declared his love to
a giant Artichoke - it could've been
me - or the wonderous poet, Lorca -
once you think in terms of could've
you may become prone to miracles,
like time melting in the pink sun -
nothing wrong being an Artichoke,
I would've stuk with you, whatever




Nomi Ben-David.

heroes

We who shout beneath the water, swirl airbells
onto the bely of the fish,vibrating, like a Fata-
Morgana, - sore are our throats but we keep on
singing, feet like fins, kick in the froth, - we
who do not drown, but do not swim iether -

we who never cry who grew in the greenhouse of
bravery-songs, and the young wars in the foto
albums - we, beat about like fish in the sand ...
once, once there were trenches here, - and my
Dad, he too was a soldier in sandals

on a snapshot, at home at Sarah's - this being
before the mine, the big flood and Noach, - then
the animals slowly came off the boat, later they
learned to sing and danced the Hora around the
fires of Lag-Baomer, - once, here, they very

quickly learned to swim - and the ones who were
lost, fill the chambers of the sea - look at me
from below, upwards, - and I keep silent,
while my mouth slowly fills with salty water -




Nomi Ben-David

moon

full moon, again tonight you wear your
wonderous mask of sensous desire - sunk
pale, in feathery cloud...
oh, sweet promises of the heart, don't dare
touch me, for sometimes moon you are made
of paper, - an ornament of the pantomime,
sometimes you're a double-edged knife that's
sharpened on both sides
yet as long as morning wakes me, with its
sounds of bird's delight, i shall not miss a
day of our shared decline





Nomi Ben-David.

If

if once i was a queen, then somewhere
there must be a king, who demands my
head - yet, if once i was unfair and
wild, then somewhere there must be a
man, who has learned his lesson - can
he maybe tell me how, and why? - i
can't make any promises, but i can try...



Nomi-Ben-David

Voyage

when the moon has come between us
your darkened face i ceased to see,
but for the halo, bright aroud it, of
pure, enticing mystery -
and while the planets slowly move
towards their farthest destinations,
the goddess's song engulfs in light,
so why do i like Persephone wander
in shadows of the darkest skies,
- watch for early signs of spring?
i know one day our eyes will meet,
like lightning, - and in full eclipse.




Nomi Ben-David

Twee slakken

Samen glijden van een tak,
kronkelend, als een witte wokkel
hangend aan een draad van slijm:
het grote blote slakkengeheim.

De wereld wentelt om die kolkende klont,
koudbloedig maar von kopf bis fuss verliebt.
geen erotisch plekje hier of tepeltje daar,
nee, zij helemaal om hem en hij om haar.

armzalig de boertige kikker,
de driftige duif, de terloopse teef.
armzalig het kruip-door-sluip-door
geile stekelbaarsje achter glas.

en 't mooiste zou ik bijna nog vergeten:
dat je op je glibberig hoogtepunt
als slak niet meer zult weten of je
nu het mannetje of het vrouwtje was.




Han de Ruiter

Viool

Een vrouw speelt viool in de kamer naast
de mijne - en de warme dissonanten slaan
als een vlam in de zomerse nacht - alsof
een engel daar vergaat in weemoed, zijn
vleugels verbrand

Als ik zou roepen om wat water, zou zij
weer mijn moeder zijn - haar hand koel
voelen aan mijn voorhoofd, haar geur mij
wiegen in de slaap

maar ik blijf kijken naar het licht, dat
schaduwen aan de muren haakt, luister
naar de motorrijder, die maar blijft jagen
door de nacht -

het is mij altijd bij gebleven, het ene
viool concert van Bach - maar klassiek
hoor ik sindsdien, toch liever overdag...



Nomi Ben-David voor Judith 1911-2008

Wish

When young my blood raced in my vains
yet now, softly it hums in its darkened
maze, circling back to its beginnings,
away from the Hyena's laugh - or is it
the strange sound of a man agonizing?
yet, do beware my unleashed heart, for
there's only one more wish to go, before
we fall off the flat edge of eternity -
maybe our embroidered wings will stay,
as a token of love to those just born,
who have'nt yet forgotten how to fly -



Nomi Ben-David

Stranger / Indian Summer

The tiger, he still watches me, I can almost
hear him breathe - should I have shot him that
very first time, cut his whiskers, to show off
in town? - now he paces, circling around me,
almost lazy, sure of his kill
for I am pinned down by his keen, yellow-eyed
intention, - or is it danger's fascination?
when the sirens will finally go off, it will
be too late, - only my sandals shall be found in
the tall grasses, by the pond
It shall be a summer day - friends will bring
flowers, and everyone will say: what love, how
great a passion had they!
and in the Zoo where they shall bring him,
Tiger, will become a children's pet,...



Nomi Ben-David

Things That Fly

I.
My niece speaks in riddles
to her uncaged bird

like Francis of Assisi and his flock
of wolves, a shining mist at dawn descends
like a wall to words between them.

II.
Misery may be folded
in half, like a sheet
of blank paper. Or filled
with words. No matter.
It is only a first step.

You must continue the folds, parallel
To each side, until their intricacy
builds on itself, forms a delicate
grace. Separate. Facing itself.

In Japan, there are beautiful words
For each step. This way misery dies

in equal parts, until it forms
a paper missile at twelve noon
to fling out any window, without
aiming. But only from a great height.




Jim Carroll,
from "The Book Of Nods"

Black Moon

Like a sleepwalker she moves through the
overgrown paths of his troubled sleep,
in the black and white negative print
of his unfinished dream -
Under a black moon she stops, freezing
against a white bright sky, like a deer
reflecting on the sound, of a hidden
current, whispering underground...
With no sound he tries to call her name
as slowly she vanishes into the bushes,
so strangely and brightly aflame -
leaving on the filmpaper, where she was a
scar, like a cigarette burn -




Nomi Ben-David

Poetry on Sunday

this coming sunday at 4.00, at the Literary Cafe of the "Regentenkamer" in
Den-Haag, four dutch poets will be reading from their work.
presentation is in the hands of actress Tatiana Radier. Truus van Leeuwen,
Anne Borsboom, Nomi Ben-David and Gerrit Vennema will be reading and Heleen Koster will play the saxofoon.
adress is: Laan van Meerdervoort 34., bus 13,24 tram 1,10 Vredenspalais.

Lied voor Ella

De slakken hebben in de bladeren een
zilverdraad achter gelaten -
met minuscule weefgetouwen zal ik voor
Ella een slaaplied weven - ook
zij zal moeten opletten om haar vinger
niet aan de tovernaald te prikken -
omdat prinsen uit de mode zijn, en een
sprookjesslaap het niet echt doet, voor
een prinses van zeven jaar




Nomi Ben-David

heer en hond

De hond krijgt geen gelijk
wanner hij, happend naar de handige
maan in het water springt.

liever was ik een gewone
hond die zich in alles vastbijt
dan een man vol evenwicht

bijeengedacht binnen een kleiner
heelal: verstand heerst enkel
waar het verstand nog bij kan.

de heer, hij fluit zijn hond terug,
zijn aardse droom, opdat hij hem
op de voet kan volgen.



Eric Ruygers.

Homeland

I still remember the days of hazy heat
can't forget the sweetness of the nights
mellow landscapes of forever child,

the touch of the sea at night, dark,
gently swaying - the seaweed that gets
entangled round my unsuspecting hand

the old ancient language keeps coming
back - its words like flowers of stone
bloom in the medows of my mind -

and an old childeren's rhyme keeps chanting
keeps repeating in my head - is, like
maybe a sign, of a new turn in time



by Nomi Ben-David