Birgit's Website (Constantly updated)


Keeping in touch


Driven by nature,
A hot summer wave
Caresses the shore,
Gently pulling at our feet.

Driven by nature,
Your hand dives into
My bikini-slip,
Caresses,
Keeping in touch with
No-other-man's land,
As nonchalantly we stand
Locked in the embrace,
Eyes scanning
A vista
Blurred by
The hand of distance,
While
Blissfully aware of our
Now and here.


© Birgit Talmon
Summer 2009

====================

Moderation in all things


Peering through the slits,
Measuring
The glare of light
Pressing
Against the shutters.


Blue skies
From wall to wall
Oppressively the same
Day in and day out.


Then, there it is –
Oh, blessed be it.


Monotony has ceased!
Given way to a blanket
Knitted of sweet fleecy clouds
Drawn across the blue.


I can now walk
Under the huge,
So yearned for canopy,
Walk freely in its
Mercifully dimmed light
Wishing for it
Never to disappear.



© Birgit Talmon
2004

====================

NEW BEGINNING


The roadside trees'
Illusive resemblance to
Salt pillars
In our headlights
Is this moment's
Sole guiding framework
As we reel
Deeper into the arid land
Along narrow paths
To a future.

Curious
And at ease
I look back,
But alas,
Gone is that
Framework,
Snuffed out
By the bleak of night;
Gone seems all that
Comprises my past.

Oddly suspended
Between
Past and future
I perceive a faint shiver
Evoked by the tale of
Lot's Wife.


©Birgit Talmon
Spring/10

====================

SLIPPERS

These are for you,

She said,
Bought them myself;
Same model
Same colour
As last year
And years
Before.

His feet drag them
Across the floor
Wearing
The Persian thin
Heading for
An armchair
Or elsewhere,
Their hiss
Letting her know
His whereabouts
In their realm.

May his big toe
Poke
The familiar hole
In slipper
After slipper;
For
Grating
Dragging
Spells their
Togetherness.

© Birgit Talmon
Autumn/10

====================

TEQUILA

One single
'Happy hour'
On a rocky
Barstool
High on Tequila
Let the unmentionable
Slip passed my lips,
Unwittingly creating
A ferocious
Golem
Of my beloved
Flesh and blood
Sternly rejecting
My groping
For reconciliation.


© Birgit Talmon
Summer/10

====================


T H A N K  Y O U

Young of body and spirit
Together
We helped ourselves
To life's treats.


The temptations
Of the palate

Ultimately
Had you bound in

Their consequences
By that day in May.


With spring in the air
Your Grim Reaper
Began
Stripping you
Of adipose tissue
Down to the bone.

-
The remission
Caught on
A camera lens:
New hair
New style

As pretty
As way back,
Elegantly you pose

With a sly smile
Of the victor
In the little frame
On my desk.


Thank you
For leaving
That last imprint
To dwell upon.


© Birgit Talmon
Spring/10

====================

WE BOW AND WE BOW

In artless respect
We have bowed
Our thanks
To noble deeds
Throughout time.

-
A new era, though,
Eventually
Has us
Bow down to
Potential

Airborne hostilities
By meekly
Untying our shoelaces,
Passing barefoot
Through

The scanning gates
Of a distorted
World-order.



© Birgit Talmon
Summer/10

====================

A MATTER OF GENES

As the days grow darker
Towards the turn of season

The brighter they become
For my genes,

Longing to snuggle up
In the blissful coolness
Of their shade.


© Birgit Talmon
Autumn/10

=====================
AFTER DINNER

Our merrily
Touching glasses

Led to his
After dinner speech

Teeming with words
Best unspoken.


Promptly
Put on ice
Like

Onerous Inuit
Of bygone days
Set adrift

On floes,
His speech
Is free now,
Reaches no shore.


© Birgit Talmon
Summer/10
====================
BUBBLEGUM HERE WE COME
(Memoir from a village)

An impoverishing reign,
Which they never knew,
Was long gone
And yet
A pack of gum with a name
They could not pronounce
Was still
A gold nugget
Of the day,
And the lucky owner
The big shot on the block.

Eyes would crowd
Hypnotized by
Pink bubbles
And jaws
Cockily chewing
On the tasty bulk
Desired by all.

Ever and anon
Index and thumb
Would nip off
Tiny bits
Graciously
Handed out to
Drooling comrades
Eager for a taste
From way out beyond
The Big Pond.

Due to parental disapproval
Of the mouth to mouth
Trafficking,
At supper time
Precious blobs
Were put on hold
In meticulously chosen
Obscure spots
On the pavement.

Disintegrated gum:
End of game.

© Birgit Talmon
August 2011
====================
DON'T CRY

In this price-war time
Cheap overripe tomatoes
Ever so suitable
For the delicious dish
'Shakshuka',
Are hard to come by,
But don't cry.

Here is a price reducing recipe:

4 kg firm tomatoes
½ kg green peppers
½ kg yellow peppers
4 medium size onions
5 cloves of garlic;

Forget the tomatoes
In the veg basket
For at least
2 weeks
By which time
They should be nicely
Cooking-tomato-mushy.

Cut away the rotten parts
Chop the remaining ingredients
Add spices according to taste
And while the dish is simmering
Enjoy the fact
That meanwhile
The price of tomatoes
Has soared.

© Birgit Talmon
Spring/10

====================
GUIDED TOURS

Sleeping-in guests
Airborne and gone
End to guided tour
Of the day
In Oh Jerusalem
And the White City.

Tranquil aftermath
Blissfully prevails
When first bites
In tender spots
Announce
The arrival
Of local
Inbound
Bloodsucking
Bed Busters.

It's the beginning
Of sleepless nights'
Torch-guided tours
Amongst
Flipped-over pillows
Overturned mattress
Uprooted sheets,
Armed with
Fuming
Spray cans
And fury.

Our turn to sleep-in
Elsewhere tonight?

© Birgit Talmon
Summer/11
====================
TRUNKS
Observations in a townscape

Like dangling trunks
Connected to
Rotating bellies;
At the touch
Of a switch,
They spew
Their grey concrete
Deep into hollows
Prepared in the sandy soil
To ensure ample space
For four-wheelers.

Foundations firmly set,
Trunks turn to
Shape frameworks
To become homes
For dwellers eager
To conglomerate
In a town with
Bauhaus Pride
Wedged between
High-rise
Tinted windows
On the shores of
The promised land.

©Birgit Talmon
Summer/09
====================

AIRMAIL

At the bottom of
The building site,
Six floors under,
A little man
With a big
Call from nature,
Looks to the sky;

Cranes overhead
Airmailing
Oddities to and fro
And his loo?


Then finally,
Cautiously,
Out of thin air,
It descends on the site.


Yesterday's was blue
Today's green,
But that's alright
As long as it's a loo!


©
Birgit Talmon
Summer/09

====================

ALTERNATING CURRENT

I posed a question
To my dear companion
Forgot,
In the ecstatic moment,
To wrap it up
In shock absorbing
Smalltalk.


So now – once more
The bastard
Returns my neglect of
Beating about the bush,
With daily interest.


In times like this
I prefer his distance
Alone feels less lonely.


©
Birgit Talmon
Autumn / 03
====================
DARNING

The gap
In my memoirs
Had me turn to
My tools:


Fabric -
A blank page.


Darning needle-
My pen.


Threads-
My thoughts.

-
Then, tying
The loose ends,
I fell through
Their flimsy mesh;
Into a
Make-shift
Memoir,
And felt
At peace
At last.


©
Birgit Talmon
 Summer 09

====================
DELIVERANCE

The corridor:
700cm long,
Windowless,
Dangerously flat
Light fixtures
In the low ceiling
To enable
Cabinet doors
To swing open.


All these years
Hesitant fingers
Touch the switch,
Turn on the light,
Premeditating
Each span of time
For fear of overheating
The source of light.

-
Then comes
The miscalculation
Followed by a torrent
Of broken glass.


After all these years
The light bulb,
Now rid of its
Oppressively hot encasement,
Delivers the tenants from
Premeditated time spans,
- At least in the corridor.

© Birgit Talmon
Summer/09
====================
WITH COMPLIMENTS

With global compliments
Osama style
Silently it awaits me
On the shelf
At the pharmacy.


The tiny container
Can hold
The permitted
Milligrams
Of cream,
That'll keep
My skin
Moist and fresh
In flight,
- Bar me
From entering
The lines of
The 'Shaheeds',
While together
We make it
In thin air
From here to there.


© 
Birgit Talmon
Spring/09
====================
AT LAST

She would keep her eyes
Firmly on the wheels;
Their rims of rubber,
Worn thin by
Churning gravel,
Jolting him a bit
At each encounter
With little heaps of pebbles,
As their cortège
Jostles down the lane.

-
When at last
The cluster of
Mournful faces
Takes leave of her sofa,
She,
With no one's permission

But her own,
Could, for instance,
Dance on it
Till it crashes,
Setting her free
Of the old soggy sofa,
Stagnation
No longer chained
By a master's voice.

-
Then again,
The reassuring,
Nerve-racking
Bedtime snores
Must not cease;
She'd better
Get on with supper,
Hurl through the window
Her unsavory fantasies.


©
Birgit Talmon
Summer/09
====================
F A C E

Let's face it,
She said,
Without a Face-Book
These days
You're faceless to
The world out there
Somewhere/anywhere.


No need to put on your face
Before feeding the book
With words that'll
Give it the lift desired
For all to see -
To be admired.


You can even stay
In your Birthday-Suit
While jotting down
A few lines
Now and then
As
Any ungainly crease
Will not show through
'Cause this is showbiz.


©
Birgit Talmon
Spring/09
====================
IN TWO MINDS

On one hand
I want to
Put my foot down
In the matter.


But then again
On the other,
The subject
Not my field,
Might shatter.


So perhaps I better
Tread carefully
Not to step in the latter.


©
Birgit Talmon
Summer/08
====================
V O I D

In the narrow void
Bereft of traditions
On either side
In unique unison
We nestle
With fragile respect
For each other's heritage.


©
Birgit Talmon
Winter/09
====================
YOUR D-DAY
To Eilon December/08

It was
A long touch
Or go
To Eternity.


Each time
I held my breath
Until the day
You compelled me to
Add that dreaded d
To 'I love you'
.


©
Birgit Talmon
Winter/08
====================