Transparent Words - Poetry
5 Poems by Tammara Or Slilat
I bought cherries in the marketplace, "Only fifteen shekels a kilogram,
and Shabat Shalom, I'm going home". I sorted, washed and piled
them in a bowl: glowing red, velvety crimson and sunset orange,
they are the pink cheeked boys of Caravaggio, lying gracefully
on my plate, giving me their innocent look. You're goners,
I sigh and bite, I've paid the ransom with my gold, now
you're mine, love boys, for a quick one time pleasure.
Endangered whales roam
the gap between my inner and outer skin,
the one that pleases the world
with its silky perfection. But
sometimes the peel of the ocean breaks
and a whale emerges, flying through the air
and although we wait
for the fall, and although,
it's inevitable, that moment of
is worth it all
I dreamt of a man who was angry with a tiger.
I'll say louder: a tiger.
He put his hand, his bare hand, right into the mouth
of the astonished beast, then his head,
wearing the tiger's jaws like a tight shirt.
Undressing from the choking tiger he pulled
out a sandwich, snatched from him before,
and started chewing peacefully.
I realized I was still afraid
of tigers, but of this one
I saw geese flying
thumping their wings on the water,
quaking the joy of a successful landing,
then drawn upwards to become
a small black arrow in the empty sky.
I curled my neck and sang
the deep longing of the abandoned heart.
My white wings flapped and stretched
from here to there to
the end of the fine line
between the erased space and the remaining sign
Still Life with Pomegranates
Be still, watch:
Crimson and cadmium red
pomegranates set against
cascading ivory cloth, an old bottle
of wine in phtalocynine emerald green
and a leafy bough to bring the diagonal
uplifting energy to the composition.
We're so used to seeing that we've stopped
looking. This is what I want you to do:
forget everything you know, everything
you believe to be true.
on the point of Perception:
change that and
you've changed the world.
When you put your brush to the canvas
focus not on what is
there, but rather on what is not.
Objects are defined by the empty space
around them, just as people
are remembered not only
by their deeds, but also by what
they neglected, or forgot