* September is a city of copper; It is the shape of ashes in the tale of the fire-bird. September is a waiting-hall between the bareness of ends and the beginnings of fig berries. So, my beloved substitutes her hair, to take a shower; primitive waters come out from earth’s pores and assemble in a leady sky. Very soon, trees will wear their dusts, and hang their clothes on ropes of rain
I am 58 years old, from eastern Galilee, Israel (Palestine). I studied English literature, psychology and Law at the Hebrew university (Jerusalem). In the last three years, I published three books of which is dedicated to prose poetry. You are invited to visit the Facebook page Shadows of Water, where I publish my prose poems I translate to English.
ONCE THERE WERE TWO MAGNIFICENT TOWERS, WHERE LIVED AND WORKED SO MANY OF OURS. IT TOOK SEVEN LONG YEARS TO BUILD THEM STRAIGHT, THEY STOOD NEAR THE EMPIRE STATE. THIS EVENT HAPPENED ON ELEVENTH OF SEPTEMBER, ITS AN OCCURRENCE THAT
Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Music of September, I still retain. We met in the greenery, A wet, lovely scenery, A teen age romance, The music and dance. Why don’t you remember? Remember again, Magic of September, Your shyness,