Scorching to 99 degrees
It is always cold there
It is always gray there
Though the sun illuminates
We have never been there
It is indelible
It is almost forgotten
White stars sorrowfly emit
Inscribed in history books
It is a lesson unlearned
Is it redemptive?
As blood muddies the ground
Tears blind the scene
It is a haven for soundless birds
It is a roofless church
Prayers like smoke dissipate to the sky
The chosen lay buried there
It is no port for angels.
Elliot Lipchik was born, raised and educated in Brooklyn, New York, always with an avid interest in literature, but had no time to pursue these interests until he retired early from his position as Professor at the Medical College of Wisconsin. After his retirement, he began to write and study poetry at UWM.
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beautiful and haunting, great job Elliot
A lasting poem. The profound subtly at work struck a chord in me that will resonate for a long while. The voice is unnervingly clear and the pitch-perfect use of antithesis invokes the past and present all at once. This poems fills a void.Â
a poem worth reading again and again. a poem worth posting above our heads.  a poem worth writing after it is impossible to write poems. a poem to remember. a poem to pin to our heads.  a poem to remember by. a perfect poem, Elliot.
what an elegant and deeply sorrowful poem.