My YouTube Poetry Video - Poem: The Places I Go

Click here.

I purposely said my full name, Ruth Zali Deming, so you'd know how to pronounce "Zali," rhymes with Polly. Hungarian for Sarah. As Jews, we name our dead after deceased relatives. Zali was my mother's grandmother. Gramma Zali.

Here's what I look like on the video. Scott said I look so happy. Freda said I read with such self-confidence and professionalism.

When I see Luke circling round the block, I'll invite him in to watch the vid. This octogenarian neighbor likes having nothing to do but ride around in a circle, like a dog chasing his tail.



So far, there's 41 views and only one "Like."

C'mon.... "like" me, for pete's sakes. And how about leaving a comment?

I dare you.

Watch, I'll go online now, listen to something I like and leave a comment. Hold on.

It was the Mahler Fifth Symphony. Click here to listen. 

My comment: Heavenly! First learned about the Fifth 53 yrs ago when I read about it in Scholastic Magazine in high school. 

Was out of kilter today as the painters had barricaded the second floor with a thin sheet of plastic. They wore thick masks as they scraped off the walls in the hall and the bedroom walls.

When will I see the aqua paint appear, I asked Ed.

  Steady, as she goes. This is too bright. He only uses Benjamin Moore.

Was forced to watch a Netflix film, which was quite good. A 1956 Nazi spy thriller with Clifton Webb. They pull off a brilliant scheme to trick the Nazis into believing the Allies will be landing on the coast of Greece, instead of Sicily. Very exciting!




Ate dinner at my sister Donna's. Only 14 more days until they move out. Boxes everywhere.

Kamelia made this fantastic chicken soup with great flavoring.  Baby David was wearing a blue outfit.

Like the Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough.

No, said Donna.. I would've heard of him if it were Gainsborough.

I'm positive, I said, and sent her a link when I got home.

Thomas Gainsborough

The Blue Boy (c. 1770) is a full-length portrait in oil by Thomas Gainsborough, now in the Huntington Library, San Marino, California.

At first I thought it read Huntingdon VALLEY Library, here in PA.

I'm going to write a new poem right now, but I'll 'publish' this link. Check back later. 

Guess it took about an hour, while listening to a Lightnin' Hopkins record YouTube found for me. 

THE PLACES I GO

Hold on tight

I’m on the stationery bike

pedaling away in front

of the flickering TV

Help me! I cry

I’ve landed in Nazi Germany

with their “mega weapons”

The Fuhrer, so confident of

the Thousand Year Reich,

See me shake him

from my perch on the bike

See me stare into his eyes

that swallow me into the

depths of Dante’s Inferno

I lift up my shiny black

Ruger Mark I

wave it before his narrowed

eyes and squeeze.

Rick Steves has traveled

to Paris. I pedal behind

his confident stride as we

stare straight up at

La Tour Eiffel, its

black iron lattice work as

fine as any lace on

Singer-Sargent’s

fancy ladies

Reaching for my book

“them” by Joyce Carol

Oates, I turn to the page

where Jules makes love

to his Nadine. She’s

married a Wall Street Man

who treats her good but

she can’t stop thinking of

Jules, likes his name, loves the man,

and will gladly die for

him. Jules, kissing her hair, soft

as a moth wing, is frightened

of losing himself in the waves

of their desire.

Of drowning.