I Grow

I watched the tree grow
Slow...
God, it was slow!
A year, ten, a
Thousand years -
Still it grows.

I watched me, too, grow
Slow...
God, I was slow!
A tear, ten, a
Thousand tears -
Still I grow.


Copyright © 2006 and 2009 by Jacob Anson
All rights reserved

Dedicated to my good friend, Juergen Kuehn

Home Again

You can't go home again,
For home as you
Remember it
Does not exist.
It is a dream.
A shattered piece
Of stained glass;
Whose colors run
Amok, never more
To adhere in
Coalescent beauty.

You can go home again
If home is in
Your mind.
The place you first
Learned right from wrong
And how to live
With love, compassion
And the certainty
That you are
Valued and cherished,
One with the universe.

You must go home again
If only metaphorically
To meet that dream
Of yesteryear;
To see through
Shattered colors strewn
To find the light
To meet your need
To know the way
To walk along
Your path today.

© 2006 and 2009 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved.

The moon has risen; how still is the world

A few days ago, I posted this moon shot on Ocala Daily Photo. My friend Juergen, of Marburg, Germany, offered as an appropriate accompaniment this old German songtext:

The moon has risen,
the tiny golden stars shine in the heavens bright and clear; the forest stands dark and silent,
and from the meadows climbs a
wondrous white mist.

How still is the world, and in the veil of twilight,
as comfortable and lovely
as a quiet chamber, where the misery of the day you will sleep away and forget.

Do you see the moon standing there?
There is only half of it to see, and yet
it is round, and fair! So it is with many things
that we mock confidently,
Because our eyes see them not.

(Evensong by Matthias Claudius - 1773)

Thank you, Juergen.

The Gospel of the Easter Bunny

Back by popular demand, is the Gospel of the Easter Bunny. This poem, happily, is becoming an annual exercise in piety.


The Book of Heaven's Hare

It is a hare-raising tale.
Sorta sad, sorta funny.
For once upon a time
There appeared a special bunny:
Who brought the people joy
And taught them to have fun;
Yet even as they laughed and danced
His life became undone.

An archaeological dig
In lower Percydocyair
Unveiled the previously unknown
Book of Heaven's Hare.
Significantly the book was found
On one foggy Easter morn;
On the very day they say
That Heaven's Hare was born.

In deciphering this Gospel text
Scholars have made clear,
Heaven's Hare was neither sex
That's why he was so dear.
Women loved him, so did men
And children loved him too.
Just watching him hop around
Made them feel like new.

Every other week or so
He'd gather everyone around.
And he would teach that heaven
Was a happy hopping ground.
And everyone could go there
If they would just forget
Their lust for eating animals
And started eating carrots.

These lessons were so well received
They got to be a habit.
And all the people came to call
The hare their Ravi Rabbit.
He spoke of the importance
Of tending to the gardens;
To see that all the vegetables
Were gloriously resplendent.

But then one day some hunters
Carrying great big guns
Told Heaven's Hare he'd better go
Back to where it was he came from.
But Ravi Rabbit stood his ground
He wasn't even scared.
He told them throw your weapons down
For I am Heaven's Hare!

They didn't throw their weapons down
They drew a bead on him.
He took off hopping out of town
Things were getting pretty grim.
They pulled their triggers all at once
The air exploded sound.
And when the smoke had disappeared
The hare was not around!

All the people ran to see
If he was dead and gone.
The children sobbed tearily
And broke out in a song:
Oh Heaven's Hare, Oh Heaven's Hare
We love you O dear heart.
We'll tend your garden faithfully
Til this life we depart.

Suddenly a voice, a cry.
"I see, I see the Hare.
"He flew away into the sky;
"There he is, there!"
But no one else could see the bunny.
Heaven's Hare was gone.
Something though was very funny,
Or very, very wrong.

The children saw them first
And shouted out for joy.
Strewn along the bunny's path
Were brightly-colored toys.
Then a girl name Mary
With long and strong, good legs,
Ran into a meadow full
Of brightly-colored eggs!

"Ravi Hare! Ravi Hare!"
All began to chant.
For they believed in Heaven's Hare
And they were adamant.
Then another miracle occurred;
The eggs had multiplied.
And everyone realized Heaven's Hare
Had never, really died!

Thank goodness they discovered
This Easter Bunny gospel.
'Cause lots of folks alive today
Have become infidels.
They long ago gave up belief
In an egg-laying Heaven's Hare.
And it is such a great relief
To have the truth laid bare.

So Heaven's Hare still lives.
His Easter eggs abound.
And every single brand-new spring
You'll find them all around.
Read the story once again
Of happy Heaven's Hare.
The lives of those who do believe
Is eggscelent, I swear!


Copyright 2006 & 2008 by Jacob Anson.
Image copyright 2006 & 2008 by Jacob Anson and its licensors. All Rights Reserved.

The Fabulous Fabians

The Fabulous Fabians
Were married at four
Under a huppah at the
Waldorf-Astoria
A priest and a rabbi
Gave God a nod
There were four hundred people
Some from abroad.

She was a debutante
Catholic and cute
He was a scion
Old wealth to boot
They met down in South Beach
By chance in a bar
They planned the best
New York wedding so far.

They smiled, so in love
And recited their vows
He stumbled a bit
But recovered somehow
And when it was over
Tradition took root
He stomped on the wine glass
With an oversize foot.

The orchestra played
New York's finest song
Then some Sinatra
They all danced along
'Til well after midnight
And into the morn
The Fabians left
Just after dawn.

They slept in the limo
On the way to the plane
She dreamt of her beauty
Her dress and her flame
He dreamt not at all
But when he awoke
He was nervous and sorry
That he no longer smoked.

They flew off to Cancun
For fun on the beach
She slept on the plane
Laying next to his cheek
He wondered what happened
Was he really so dumb
She'd probably want kids
His brain was going numb.

His father-in-law thought
He could do nothing wrong
And paid him a fortune
His work was so strong
The city had praised him
His vision, his nerve
For the building of grandeur
It was praise well-deserved.

Why are you distant
She wanted to know
You seem so uptight
Just go with the flow
The honeymoon's over
He wanted to say
I loved you last night
I'm not sure today.

She grabbed his hand and
They went to a club
She held him close
They danced rub-a-dub
She told him she loved him
More than he'd know
And she'd loved the wedding
A magnificent show.

One week to the day
They flew back to New York
She went to parties
He went to work
They passed in the hall
Of the townhouse he built
Neither were bothered
By feelings of guilt.

He was quite happy
The way things worked out
She didn't cry
Or whimper, or shout
His girlfriend was smart
And sexy and free
His life was all that
He hoped it would be.

Then on a dull
And dark winter day
He got a package
From Fox, Foreman and Gray
Attorneys they were and
Were letting him know
His sweet debutante
Was delivering a blow.

It did seem a shame
That it ended so soon
But for him the rose
No longer bloomed
The pain in his heart
He'd get over in time
The pain in his wallet
For that he would pine.

The last that he heard
She'd opened a store
For French lingerie named
Oolala! And More!
He lived on the beach
And nickeled and dimed
Took tourists fishing
One day at a time.

Now back in New York
If they remember at all
They say she was cute
They say he was tall
And wasn't it sad
Their love didn't last
The fabulous Fabians
Are fading quite fast.

Copyright © 2006 & 2009 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved

In the Beginning

In the beginning
My life was chaos
An amniotic
Explosion
Into a maelstrom
Of needs and desires;
I demanded to know
To grow, to determine
My own destiny;
And buffered by
Frameworks of friends
And of family
I learned over time
To be an adult.

I found in the middle
My life was predestined
To be an experience
Of unending education;
Of searching for
Meaning in marriage
And children;
Of searching for
Status in persons,
Professions;
Of learning that time
Is no friend of mine
Passing too quickly
Before I was ready.

To move to the end
To become an old man
Where life is chaotic
As body and soul
Fail now to function
As in the beginning;
Where what was
Important is now merely
Childish and meaning
Is found
In the love of a spouse
And family and friends;
Where you finally learn
That everything ends.

In the beginning?
No one knows...

[This is one of my favorite poems, initially published in 2006. Copyright 2006 and 2009 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved. Image © 2009 by Jacob Anson and its licensors.]

When you call my name

[For Lois]

When you call
My name
I hear a voice
Unlike any
In this world

The sound of which
Resonates
Plucking the
Heart strings
Of my soul...

Creating in
That moment
A bond between
The two
Of us...

Recreating
A reason to live
Healing and making
That which is broken
Whole.

© 2006 & 2008 by Jacob Anson. All rights Reserved.

At Sea

A becalmed sea
A moon's soft light
Inky waters
Still as night

Dreaming now
We hold on tight
And gaze across the
The dark abyss

Where sparkling shore
Reflects our hope
What's yet to be
For you and me.


Copyright @ Jacob Anson 2009 - All Rights Reserved

The Patriot

The car, a dull persistent gray
Sidled to the curb, tacitly
Silent, sullen, hulking there
A menace to the morning birds
Whose songs were swallowed
In the quiet, misty air.

Four men slid out from the car
Suited also dull and gray
Relentless, they came after me
ID's high so I could see
Crew-cuts bobbed and then they weaved
Too late, I thought, for me to leave.

Not nice guys, these gangsters four
Knocked me down inside the door
Demanding I confess to deeds
That sprouted from subversion's seed
They said the government was my best friend
It's up to me when all this ends.

No slapping on the cuffs for me
Just some new technology
So while in a stupor on the floor
They tore my house apart and more
Took receipts going back for years
Computer, files and all my gear.

Hauling stuff out to the car
Neighbors watched, but from afar
The agents laughed triumphantly
High-fives were shared comradely
Before they went to break for lunch
They said they'd caught me on a hunch.

Never use your phone one crowed
We heard it all, we got you cold!
Just put a tap tap on your cell
And you, my friend, are going to hell
You're gonna have an accident
You can't critique the president!

He grinned, a toothy bureaucrat
Stolid, shaven, neck of fat
I asked to call my attorney
He laughed at that uproariously
You're subject to the Patriot Act
You got no rights and that's a fact!

He grabbed me, shoved me out the door
This was the end there was no more
But then I heard a cardinal sing
And a small, persistent ring
I leapt up on the bed to scream
Thank God that this was all a dream!


Or was it?


Copyright © 2006 & 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved

Seeing is believing?

You can't see
If you are blind.
Some can't see
And they see fine.
Some believe
And think they see.
Others see
What they believe.

Do you have to see
To believe at all?
Or is it enough
To just pretend...
That you believe
Or that you see
When you don't
Really see at all?

It isn't easy to believe.
And it's difficult to see.
Some I think do not believe
But still pretend that they can see.
They work so hard
At their belief
It's hard for others to believe
That they indeed can see.

The truth that is so plain to see, is
That we all see differently.
Thus friendship can be difficult
If we should disagree.
I know that I can see just fine.
You're obviously deceived.
You see things that I don't see.
That's why you can't believe.

Maybe when all's said and done
There is no need to see.
Or maybe on the other hand
There's no need to believe.
It all might work out for the best
The world might be relieved,
When no one claims that what they see
The whole world must believe.

Copyright © 2006 and 2008 by Anson. All Rights Reserved.

The Quintessential Politician

The politician

Pursed his lips

Perspicaciously
Positive he'd make the
Point he purposely was
Posing.

To his friends
The lobbyists he joked and
Laughed out loud
Then spoke with
Great sincerity
Eyeballing the crowd.

I'm absolutely
Unbelievably
Bodacious
And come to you
With greasy palms
And sacred psalms...

To give you all
Your hearts'
Desires
Just as soon as
A small fund transfer
Quietly transpires...

I've pocketed the
President and those
Who give advice
The Congress folks
Bow down to me
I'm cold and bold as ice

They've all come to
Believe in me
I hold them in my sway
Your cash will finance
All your dreams
Old Tom does not DeLay!

(Copyright © 2006 by Ansohn and 2008 by Jacob Anson. All Rights Reserved)

(The poem is dedicated to my good friend and former bishop, Dr. Phil, who has worked so hard to bring a bit of common sense to Texas politics.)

Sunrise, Sunset

(Photo by Anne of Rhode Island)

Sunrise, sunset
Twenty-four hours and
What do you get?
Another day older and
Deeper in debt...
More hours to do the
Thing's you'll regret?
Sunrise, sunset...

And yet...
And yet...

Sunrise, sunset
A gift of the gods
And time to beget
Visions of hope
Goals to be set
For all of your dreams
Are as yet unmet
Sunrise, sunset...

(Copyright © 2008 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved.)

Orphans of the feet

You see them everywhere
These orphans of the feet.
On ev'ry type of highway
On ev'ry kind of street.
You see them in the country
Along a rural lane.
You see them in the city
On streets where kids are playing.

I'd bet if we could trod along
The roads of ancient Rome -
We'd find these little orphans
In evidence, alone.
In Merry and Olde England
On cobblestoned divide
There'd lie our little orphans
They run but they can't hide.

Surely they'd have surfaced
In China long ago.
Amidst the many dynasties
On many dusty roads.
Even in Siberia
Where winter finds its root
Along a trail wrapped up in snow
You'd find a lonely boot.

These orphans are all different
In size, and color, too.
There are sneakers, there are sandals
There are brogans, which are shoes.
There are cowboy boots and biker boots
There are flats and heels that hurt.
There are shoes to skate upon the ice
And shoes to run through dirt.

Shoes like this are what you'll find
On highways ev'rywhere.
They lie discarded, desolate
As if nobody cares.
But I have never figured out
When all is said and done,
There's never two shoes anywhere
There's always only one!

Why this is so, nobody knows
It's a huge conundrum!
There's got to be a reason
Why there's only one.
If each could tell its story
'Bout living on the street;
You'd soon be feeling sorry for
These orphans of the feet.

© 2008 by Jacob Anson; 2006 by Ansohn
Image copyright © 2008 by Jacob Anson and its licensors. All rights reserved.

Music to my ears

It's music to
My ears
A mid-night
Symphony
Her laughing
In her sleep.



© 2008 by Jacob Anson; 2006 by Ansohn

Expert Tease

Experts love
To give advice
And fools we be
We drink it in.

We bow to priest
Guru, shaman,
And then they change
Their mind again.

© 2008 by Jacob Anson; 2006 by Ansohn