Published in The Australian Jewish News Literary Supplement. 21 August 2015
Holocaust theme poems. Published in Melbourne Holocaust Centre September 2015 magazine
the search
i can’t find my music
my words i found
my music is hiding
inside my head
i put it there myself
when i was a child
i used to sing
shower melodies
the sunrise dew
the tones of steamy summer
the bells of childhood Sundays
dancing to tapes
they told me
i howled
screeched like a razor on glass
wailed
buzzed like a water pipe
i locked my music away
into the cellar of my mind
into the deep pond
of discarded thoughts
now…
i can’t find my music
the words found an escape
from my weed-overgrown soul
the music is still searching
for a hole to come through
ellina zipman
Melbourne/June2015
Birth of a Poem
It starts with a single line
A dot of sunlight
knocking on the window,
stirring you in the morning,
urging to wake up
Rise
Pick it up
Run with it
See where it will take you
It weaves its way
into your subconscious
stays there
nagging
irritating:
Accept this free gift and fly
Bend it into shapes
Colour it in the rainbow shades
Bury it in the sea
By ellina zipman
Nothing words
Words, words, words…
Empty
Shallow
With no meaning
Just words
Nothing words
Words that turn your anger up
Or switch a button
On to happiness station
Words that turn you yellow
Or color the face red
Or splash a shade of green
In your complexion
Words
That make you jump
Up and down
In excitement
Or roll over
On the floor
In devastation
Words that heal
Or move
Or inspire
Words are real
Not just air
Spoken into nothingness
Words hurt
And words love
Ellina Zipman
16.02.2012
Melbourne, Sandybeach
Blessing
I write on the train
at the traffic lights
in bed
before shower
I interrupt conversations
to write something down
Sometimes I don’t have
a pen and a paper on me
and the poems leave my head
and move on
Poems have wings
they travel
they gift me with sounds
ellina zipman
Melbourne/June2014
MORE WORDS
Some words flow
And some I have to search for
Some I have to write lots of
And some I have to discard
But some are gems
Inside of trash
I pick them up slowly
Out of dump
And give them clean and polish
So they shine
Like stars
On un-rainy sky
EllinaZipman
4 February 2012
Melbourne
To Write or Not To Write
To Write or Not to Write
That is the Question.
Shakespearean Man has asked that
Once before
To Pour Love and Hate on Pages
Or never mention
That Thing that Bleeds inside
While it atones
Who says you’ve only one chance
To state your business
Who’ll estimate your tryings till the end
To cut it open all
And listen
To dripping words
That heart to mend
5.08.11
Melbourne/Ellina Zipman
On a point of inspiration
I wrote a poem in five minutes. In the car. While waiting to pick up my daughter from school. Then, at home, I entered ten poems into a poetry competition. The judges chose the five minute one. I was surprised. I didn’t consider it that good. I thought the others, that were worked on for weeks, edited and polished, were much better choices.
This begs a question. Should I have not worked so hard on the poems that were rejected? Should I have waited for that perfect poem to come to my mind and illuminate me with its brilliance?
Yet, it is not as simple as that.
That perfect poem was brewing in my head for years before it was ready to come to the surface; a baby growing in the womb for months and shooting out fast when its time has come.
The Path
Everything is a stepping stone
Stoned steps is everything
Stone to step on is a temporary dwelling
To dwell temporarily is to pass time
The time to dwell upon is a wasted stretch
Life wasted on temporary stones
Walking the stones is a side way
Stepping each stone is a path to move on.
ellina zipman
June 2014
Melbourne
