Ute's Poetry and Musings

WISH UPON A STAR (III)

Pinecones, adorned with bows and ribbons,
Each cone holds a star,
Paper-sculpted, a German traditions
For generations, going back far.

The star is folded with nimble fingers,
And with love, the only glue;
Cherish the pine cone and all of earth’s treasures
And know that your innermost dreams will come true.

WISH UPON A STAR (II)

Pinecones, adorned with bows and ribbons:
Each carries a sixteen-pointed star,
Paper sculpted, a German tradition,
Bringing greetings from afar.
Folded and molded with nimble fingers,
With love as the only glue,
Behold the wonder of the pinecone!
And may your fondest wish come true.

Ute Kaboolian

WISH UPON A STAR (I)

Pinecones adorned with bows and ribbons:
Each carries a small Moravian star,
Paper-sculpted, a centuries old German tradition,
Sending you greetings from afar.

Folded and molded with nimble fingers
And with love as the only glue,
May it delight and bring good fortune,
And may all your dreams come true.

Ute Kaboolian

A POEM OF NOTE
(OR NONSENSE)

So what if I jot down my happiness
in simple descriptions, never bizarre.

This time we’re dealing with bugs.
Yes, you heard right.
There are bugs in that car,
that jet-black, brand-new,
electronic, platonic love affair,
that ultra modern, admired by all,
that super-fantastic miracle car.

Bugs!

They could wrench your soul.
They did mine.

I could drop, as it stands, all rhythm and rhyme,
jump rope with each line —
you all get it, I hope, electrical line —

Don’t fret. I could write that poem of note
if only I wasn’t so shy and remote.

But one day I may,
simply because,
and this sounds absurd,
but I do act out thoroughly each single word,
bugs and all,
I even jump rope while I write without pause
in what you might call

a most amusing, instant, ambitious,
word-crackling delicious,
literally literary dream-recall
in which I try out, and clearly recall
this poem’s different variations
of which I like this one best of all.

8/8/1986

Ute Kaboolian

HAVE A HEART

A penny please.

Lend me your ear.
I hope you hear that what you are
Lies in your heart, and is pure art.

Take the word “heart”,
Which does consist of “he” and “art”.
Between the letters “h” and “t” you’ll find the ear
With which we hear.
(Heart without “t”, of course, spells “hear”.)

But slide the “h” from front to rear
And you have got our whole darn “earth”.

I hope you’ve got your penny’s worth.

Ute Kaboolian