Ute's Poetry and Musings

My Zehlendorf

For Stella Busch-Witte

Before coming to America in 1958
I lived in Berlin-Zehlendorf or Berlin 37.
On my first day of school in 1937
I received the long awaited
traditional cardboard cone of sweets,
the Zuckertüte, which was pure heaven.
Zehlendorf was mentioned in 1245
as Cedelendorp, or settlement village, but I’ve
always thought of Zehlen as zählen, which means to count.
The noun “ Zahl” means “number” in an amount.
Then there’s the verb “erzählen” which means to tell a tale.
I had just written my poem, The Numbers Tell The Tale.
I wrote it for the fan- or funzine, Black Sheep.
All its 144 issues
are with the Jane Roberts Papers at Yale, to keep.
After writing my poem, Black Sheep 141,
a cool thing happened. The fun had begun.
Centering my poem, Pi day 2019, a circular form can clearly be seen.
Like my poem Bluebells, which is shaped like a bell, this bodes well.
141 follows the decimal point of the mathematical constant pi.
The 3 of pi reminds me of three of my Zehlendorfer childhood friends
now living in Switzerland. Why?
Dialing first 011, then 41 for Switzerland
and, for two of my friends yet another 41,
there’s always, at least, one 141,
which is also the beginning
of the greater Zehlendorf’s zip. Ute, get a grip.
Numbers can numb. But, when all is said and done
they are truly amazing and, oh, so much fun.
Zehlendorf, where my cradle stood, we are never apart.
Your lakes and pine forests, your Grunewald,
like a faraway birdsong
live on in my heart.

Ute Kabooolian

Ducks in a Row

On a Sunday my first child was born,
on a Monday my second one.
The third and last was born on a Tuesday
on New Year’s Eve.
But wait. I’m not done.
For I was born on a Wednesday.
Like a family of ducks in a row in disguise,
surprise, surprise,
it was on a Thursday,
ever wise, my late husband,
Haigaz Kaboolian, father of my children,
had opened his eyes.
And one thing more.
It happened on Armenian Christmas,
January 7, 1904.
January 7 sums to 8.
1904 sums to 5.
That can stand for the 8th of May, Jane Roberts’ birthday, in this magical Kaboolian way.

Ute Herbig Kaboolian

8/23/2018=24
Jeff Probst is a survivor.
18 years ago to this day
the first of 36 survivors was announced.
The show of SURVIVOR was on its way.
Madelon Rose Logue bounced
back from surgery on this day,
the birthday of our friend’s Marian Rogers’s late daughter.
And now, if I may,
please add up the date.
You will get 24. Madelon left us on 2/4/2019.
We know we all survive
but, oh, how we miss her in between.

Ute Kaboolian

I look at Seth’s portrait painted by Rob.
It hangs next to my bed on the wall.
The way Seth holds his left arm reminds me:
I went to an all girl’s school.
A few of the girls held their left arm the same way,
I clearly recall.
There was something about them.
They were different. I felt it.
They were in on a secret, somehow.
Now I think they were privy in some way, somehow,
to this very same NOW.
Papa’s maternal aunt, Tante Settchen,
reminds me of Seth with her name.
Seems like sometimes, somehow,
past, present and future are one and the same.

Ute Kaboolian
(4-4-2019)

Presenting an award
at the 61st Grammies
Bob Newhart told the audience
he received his own Grammy in ’61.
My 10th anniversary photo album, what fun,
has 61 pages.
Now follows a synchronicity of the ages:
Both Jane Roberts and Bob Newhart were born in ’29.
I found out, to my surprise,
Alexa is informative and sometimes even wise
that it was on Bob’s 55th birthday at 55, a master number,
that Jane closed her eyes.

Ute Kaboolian