Friendship

All Poems, Food, For Children, Friendship, Humor, Purim

Purim

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Purim is joyful.

Celebrating survival of Persian Jews.

From the vile plan of Haman, the King’s advisor.

His triangular hat, iconic holiday symbol.

Becoming hamantaschen, three cornered cookies.

Stuffed with fruit paste.

A sweet my mother made for years.

Then, I, preparing them by the dozens.

Going into children’s classrooms to bake.

Molding, stuffing aromatic treats.

But, in later years, less ambitious.

No young children about.

No classrooms.

By chance, a neighbor called to offer some.

Ones she just baked.

Her gesture kind.

Thoughtful.

Generous.

Sweet as the filling.

Supportive as the pastry.

Four perfect triangles cradling prune purée.

Quite an irony.

Haman’s hat, a good turn,

when he, a wicked foe.

Story transformed to giving

with fruit inside of dough!

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 9, 2024

All Poems, Food, Friendship, Humor, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Pinchos

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Have you ever wanted to get together with friends?

To chat and munch?

But you didn’t want coffee or a meal?

Well, then, a pincho is the perfect choice.

Usually served in a bar.

Run by Basque chefs.

Known for culinary expertise.

The Basque Country, in northern Spain.

Home to such eateries.

But if you’re in Valencia.

Can’t make it to Bilbao or San Sebastián.

Find one in the neighborhood.

Like Sagardi’s.

On Carrer de Sant Vicent Màrtir.

Serving fifty kinds of appetizers.

Tallying charges by toothpicks left on your plate.

Each two euros, thirty.

Made with cod, tuna, crab.

Ham, sausage, beef.

Stuffed peppers, shaved egg whites.

Omelets, croquettes.

Elegant, atop bread.

Or sitting in a spoon.

Adorned with an anchovy.

An herb, a purée.

To dress it up.

Make it tempting.

So, when we next meet,

let’s find a pincho or two.

Gourmet works of art.

Adventuresome rendezvous.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 22, 2024

 

Aging, All Poems, Friendship, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Bells of the Cathedral

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The bells of the cathedral strike twelve.

Last sounds in my ears.

After reuniting with friends.

Afternoon to evening.

Around a table.

Sharing fruit, nuts, turrón.

Anecdotes, perspectives.

Before falling into dreams.

Populated with friends from home.

Pushing me ponder the nature of friendship.

What about it energizes spirits?

Lets you overlook a wrong turn?

A poorly prepared croquet?

When otherwise you might have poked at it longer?

Become disappointed?

Dispirited?

Friends remind us what’s important.

What’s not.

Mourn with us.

About brutalities.

Global wars.

Politics undermining democracy.

Loved ones taking ill.

Passing on.

They give us strength.

To face what hurts.

Regale us with stories.

Listen to ours.

Stand by us.

As we wander to our own conclusions.

They lighten our hearts with fun.

Provoke laughter that revitalizes.

Turning faces into younger selves.

Strengthening bodies.

Removing wrinkles, sagging skin.

The transformation, remarkable.

Tonic impossible to buy.

The bells of Micalet Tower

lead me to reflect

on an extract of life:

the need to connect.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 16, 2024

 

 

All Poems, Friendship, Miracles

Signals

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The universe sometimes sends signals.

Unannounced.

Unforeseen.

Like the phone call.

Pushing aside a podcast.

An old friend’s name illuminating the screen.

Ann, I called. How are you?

Her voice hesitant, did I call you?

I’m on hold with a doctor’s office.

We both laughed.

Hung up.

Till she rang back a few minutes later.

Explaining she must have hit a wrong button.

Dialing my number.

Both of us agreeing it was meant to be.

A way to catch up.

Share news.

Exchange New Years’ greetings.

It could not have been by accident.

Rather, serendipity, fair fate.

Mysterious happenstance.

Nudging us communicate.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 4, 2024

 

All Poems, Change, Christmas, Friendship, Holidays

I Could Tell

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I could tell Christmas was coming.

Almost four years after the pandemic started.

Illuminated houses, inflatable elves.

Holiday delicacies stocked in stores.

Smells of gingerbread and cider.

Invitations to attend parties.

Like the one we went to in the old neighborhood.

Hosted annually by friends.

But suspended for contagion.

Now back in the rhythm of the season.

With its own changes.

Children grown.

Living on their own.

A new grand baby.

Completely renovated interior.

But, again welcoming relatives, peers, children.

Welcoming us.

Who used to live next door.

Now driving up the cul-de-sac from afar.

What could I tell?

Pulling up to park?

Studying the old street?

The house belonging to us for fifty years.

Inspecting it.

Noticing the new placement of the front door.

How the family converted it, made it theirs.

No longer ours.

No more a Chanukah house.

Yet, loved all the same.

I could tell Christmas was coming,

the gables glowing with light.

Instead of lit menorah,

a hallowed Christmas rite.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 20, 2023

 

 

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, Friendship, Spirituality

Feminine Energy

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Feminine energy flows.

No matter the season.

On its shores, beauty.

Listening, connecting, creating.

Blooming, growing, loving.

While waters move, progress.

Sometimes quiet.

Sometimes active.

Always sensuous.

Intriguing, sinuous.

Every once in a while, embodied.

A pebble setting off concentric circles.

The figurine crafted by a neighbor.

Female fingers twisting, turning.

Pressing, pulling clay.

Infusing a torso with strength, spirit.

Enticing the viewer toward her.

With all senses open.

As it sits atop its wooden pedestal.

Never static, never stopping.

Widening ripples.

Adding another ring through giving.

Joy in the face of the giver.

In the heart of the receiver.

Activating warmth between the two.

Stirring more waves.

Stretching into community.

As three witnesses watch the ceremony.

A woman, a man, and a fiberglass cow.

The selection of just the right piece.

Before Christmas tree and menorah.

Connections explode.

From birth in the sculptor’s hands,

imbuing her creation with soul,

ensues a lively chain of events

into a feminine balanced whole.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 17, 2023

 

 

Aging, All Poems, Change, Friendship

Becoming the Schaffners

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We’ve become the Schaffners,

said my former neighbor, now friend.

Sitting beside her husband.

Sharing a meal with us.

Catching up on old neighborhood business.

Yes, I agreed.

Remembering the move into the house on Mayo Place.

With a two-year-old.

Pregnant with a second.

Our friends arriving there later with their young brood.

In the cul-de-sac, the Schaffners.

A childless couple, a generation older.

Calling themselves Aunt Doris and Uncle Bob.

Always a treat in hand for the children.

At Halloween, Christmas, Easter, and in between.

The older, wiser people.

Twenty-five years ahead.

No matter how many years went by.

Now gone, both of them.

My friends and we transformed.

Into seniors to younger neighbors.

To the parents and their children,

walking paths just like our own.

We offer ears and affirmations

sown from Schaffners’ tender tone.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 11, 2023

 

 

All Poems, Friendship, Gym/exercise, Health/Illness

Inspiration

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I’m glad we’re an inspiration for something,

said our friend to her spouse.

As if it were an impossibility.

Sitting across the table from us.

In a Japanese restaurant.

Catching up on all fronts.

Reminding them of our admiration.

For their gymnastic determination.

Jogging, walking, hiring a trainer.

To maintain good health.

For all the years we were neighbors.

Watching their stick-to-itiveness.

Dedication to exercise.

Consuming their enthusiasm.

To join a gym, train.

Attend classes for stretching, balance.

Weightlifting, stability.

We thought of them as we pushed, lifted.

Aware of our delay.

But they breathed example into us

to strengthen heart and brain.

Despite their modesty, teaching us

to live well, avoiding pain.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 10, 2023

 

 

 

All Poems, Food, Friendship, Love

Have You Ever Tasted?

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Have you ever tasted pomegranate molasses?

Tamarind sauce?

Sumac powder?

Pistachio soup?

All fare new to Bob and me.

Served at a dinner by a neighbor couple.

Hospitality for the mouth.

Arousing tastebuds.

Adding zest.

Perking up the tongue.

To converse, communicate, exchange.

Stories, trips, recipes.

Continuing for hours.

Munching on figs, kiwi berries, nuts.

Listening to how an Iraqi man and Jewish woman met.

Fell into love deeper than a well.

So that, the Iraqi, about to board his plane, turned round.

Sending only his baggage back to Baghdad.

Without him.

Two disparate cultures blended.

A man from an Arab state.

A Jewish woman from Philly.

A model to contemplate.

It was possible for them to partner,

relationship consummate.

Maybe Israel and its neighbors

could take note, emulate.

If my dream could happen,

it would change the mid-east fate.

People would respect each other.

Dialogue regenerate.

 

Lynn Benjamin

October 20, 2023

Aging, All Poems, Friendship, Pleasure

Typing on my Laptop

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I was typing on my laptop.

In late afternoon.

When my cell phone rang.

A voice, asking me if I was free.

Could I take a walk?

An echo of years ago.

When visits were spontaneous.

Friends called a phone on the wall.

Or, simply stopped by, rang the bell.

A glorious sensation.

Being chosen.

To drop everything.

Run outside.

Catch the last rays of light.

Tramp the neighborhood.

Two old women.

Summoning teenage selves.

From when we were close.

Now, again.

Darning where we left off.

Comfortable in our flannel shirts.

Though carrying over seventy years on our backs.

Ambling while the sun sank.

Where did that misty, drizzle come from?

Dampening hair, skin, clothing?

A kind of blessing from on high.

Sanctification of two friends.

Divine mystery from the sky.

Unfeigned companionship transcends.

 

Lynn Benjamin

October 19, 2023