Thursday, November 13, 2008


For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

My memory of you when a boy I did teach,
of a human being I pray I helped you become.
Let your life reflect the divine spark in each
when the banality of others does us benumb.

Teary-eyed sighs on cloudy days recall,
a boy whose freckled face crestfallen became ...
for plucking orange lilies off sun craning stems,
whose countenance shone neither remorse nor shame.

A lesson he'll recall from that day hence …
may many more days be his to see.
Respect life all, from great to small,
guard this lesson's value pristine,
Tend your garden a school it becomes
when tomorrow's children will have lillies seen.

Alan D. Busch
7/3/09

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

For Zac



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For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

“May He Become … ”

A father’s son he prays be (come)

a person …

if, when and where there may be none.

I see him then when he was, but now is,

No longer a boy …

but in process, a man

may he become.

Orange lilies along the way

I scolded him, once long ago.

his freckled face crestfallen.

Boyishly plucked the flowers from their stems.

We laugh now at that memory, but its lesson

he retains …

respect life, son, its beauty.

Now at twenty, his becoming is but another beginning.

Return now and again to the ‘abc(s)’

A good man lives with and accepts responsibility.

Befriend them who have few if any.

Respect a woman for she is another man’s daughter, as your sister is mine.

Learn from every teacher, especially those you may dislike.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008



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My father is very ill in a hospital. His son reflects ...


Sturdy Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,

Profusion of leaves anew from peaking buds bring ...

Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring ...

Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.

I gaze at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.

Strength his tower o’er broad horizons seen.

Fade youthful verdancy from needst thou wean,

dusk dims its light where once the fog did pierce.

Violently tosses this storm a gale,

Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.

Lest the tumultuous sea in calmness feign,

steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.

Gaze the firmament for His infinity unknown,

accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.

May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,

content thyself with what thou hast already sewn.


Alan D. Busch

July 2008

Friday, June 27, 2008

"Loss and Gain"



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My friend mourns the recent sudden death of his 21-year old daughter ...

I dedicate the following verses to Noelle,of blessed memory, beloved daughter of my friend and author Micki Peluso whose book And The Whippoorwill Sang I have recently finished much to my own self-improvement. May she and her family have length of days, and the memory of Noelle be a blessing.

He took one life but gave back two.
How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum
when a daughter’s death does him benumb
Yet another of His mysteries none too few.

Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,
he comes each night to pray his grief.
At once did dreams shatter, in momentary brief
to his family soon two miracles came.

He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,
for them our love forever but live no more.
Their souls from bodies He doth tore,
cover them gently with love’s blanket unfurled.

He standeth before whom this father dost weep,
struggles to listen to sounds now mute.
Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,
turn away from this ground into which our tears do seep.

Alan D. Busch

Revised June 2008

Thursday, June 26, 2008

"Loss and Gain"



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My friend mourns the recent sudden death of his 21-year old daughter ...

I dedicate the following verses to Noelle,of blessed memory, beloved daughter of my friend and author Micki Peluso whose book And The Whippoorwill Sang I have recently finished much to my own self-improvement. May she and her family have length of days, and the memory of Noelle be a blessing.

"Loss and Gain"

He took one life but gave back two.
How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum
when a daughter’s death does him benumb
Yet another of His mysteries none too few.

Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,
he comes each night to pray his grief.
At once did dreams shatter, in momentary brief
to his family soon two miracles came.

He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,
for them our love forever but live no more.
Their souls from bodies He doth tore,
cover them gently with love’s blanket unfurled.

He standeth before whom this father dost weep,
struggles to listen to sounds now mute.
Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,
turn away from this ground into which our tears do
seep.

Alan D. Busch

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Loss and Gain



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Loss and Gain

(My friend mourns his 21-year old daughter's death ... )


He took one from him but gave back two,

How flows the divine arithmetic I cannot sum.

Suddenly his daughter’s loss leaves him all too numb,

yet another are His mysteries none too few.


Reaped he the bitterness of harvest shame,

he comes each night to pray his grief.

At once did dreams shatter in momentary brief,

so soon after to his son, two miracles came.


He taketh, He giveth in this, His world,

for them our love forever but live no more.

Their souls from bodies he doth tore,

cover them with love’s blanket unfurled.


He standeth before whom this father dost weep,

struggles to listen to sounds now mute.

Recorded in time ago on memory’s flute,

turn away from this ground into which our tears do

seep.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008



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Revisions to Poems ...

"The First to Be … "

Gaze across the night's sky to see
the limitlessness of His divine reach.
Illumine mine eyes twinkling stars this night.
May I learn the lessons You teach.

The spheres You created without compass or pen …
galactic orbs You cast far beyond sight.
Soaring to endlessness at heavenly speed,
Pray I to fathom Your mysterious might.

A house for man, from words You did utter
with neither roof nor walls a world You conceive.
Illumine the darkness, the moon but an ember ...
Master of The Universe … in Thee, I believe.

Awaken each morning to avian symphony,
our lips with gratitude but of bitterness none,
by His grace a new day, to us He hath given
The first was He ... though He had never begun.

**This last verse is based on an old translation of a verse from the Jewish hymn “Yigdal”.

Alan D. Busch
May 2008
_____________________________________________________________________

"Up Heaven's Slope"

Dedicated to Those Whose Lives We Might Otherwise Have Known

Why wrenched from hearth and home,
o'er hills and fields whence they came?
Dreaming dreams didst they freely roam,
awakened to morning cold and lame.

Wearily trod up heaven's slope,
their figures stooped, transparently thin,
anguished lives as none others before
why tarry the storms of Heavenly din?

Much like Goliath who in battle fell,
a travail, cold and dark, did numb
that even David who had fought so well
would soon that night succumb.

Prayerful hopes shoes be found
for souls bereft and torn.
If only a moment, a breath to breathe
for spirits dulled and worn.

Should there not have been at least the one
for whom faith steadfast but rare,
that his would be ennobled by Thee
to seek his just and fair?

Who glimpsed the light but touched him not,
whose spark had begun to wane.
Next day ere long gathered clouds again
for fewer who remain.

Bowed under Pharoah's lash by day,
by night a storm did rage.
Why had He not shown the way
a war He could have waged?

Aside bodies on planks they lie,
precious heat what little remain.
Dreaded welcome soon might bring,
next to whom they had just lain.

Still in death's kingdom shone
a light, a way, the day
when dawn’s rise would fewer eyes see
whose faith did them sustain.

The world we choose points us down
paths long sought by peace,
in rose gardens when we plant the seeds
lest memories tragically cease.

Alan D. Busch

May 2008
______________________________________________________________
"Lonely For You Forever"

Drawn home that night wherein the cries
my mind, in madness, did roam …
agonizing if I should open the door
to Ben's house, no longer my home.

When the blackest tar darkened the light,
my family and I shudderingly wept.
So sad when I would have preferred
with them I might have slept.

In memory’s flight I remember this well
at evening's end he readied to leave.
I felt the burn of his stubbly cheeks
how much in remembrance we grieve.

Ben, Ben ... I wept.
We spoke, but then in silence you died.
It was only just a moment ago
while asleep in my dreams I cried.

Our child in common we loved him so much
for Ben my eyes wept I did tear
this reality unimaginable, especially dark
with whom I could neither be nor near.

So few hours have now elapsed
since that psalm to you I did sing.
I am already lonely for you, forever ...
when morning dew no smiles will bring.
______________________________________________

Monday, May 26, 2008

“Pleasantness and Praise”

A wedding prayer for a young couple: the groom’s name is Noam which means “pleasantness” and the bride’s name is Tehilla which mean “praise”.

Braid my life to thine I pray …
I seek thy love forever mine.
Our family will be, we vow to Thee,
a home unto His glory divine.

I promise all I am, to thee I give,
stand with me on this, His sacred altar.
Wedded today in our oneness become …
open Thine hand when we falter.

As days become years, many may we merit,
favor our bountiful works, our hands need strengthen.
From the corners of fields, gleanings to harvest,
cherish us in life so our days do lengthen.

Pleasantness and Praise may your life be enriched,
v’shinantam levanecha v’debarta bam … *
every day in your service to Him ...
may Noam love Tehilla and Tehilla … Noam.

Alan D. Busch

*“ … and you shall teach them diligently and speak of them …”


May 11, 2008

Sunday, May 11, 2008



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The First to Be …

Gaze far away into the skies you’ll see,

the vastness of limitless divine reach.

Illumine mine eyes oh twinkling stars this night

May I merit to learn the lessons You teach.


The first of circles You drew without compass or pen,

galactic orbs you cast far beyond sight.

Soaring toward endlessness at heavenly speed,

I pray to fathom the ways of your might.


A house for man from words you did utter,

with neither roof nor from walls a world you conceive.

From darkness each night, the moon but an ember …

Master of The Universe … in Thee, I believe.


Awaken in morning to sounds of the dawn,

our lips with gratitude but of bitterness none.

By His grace a new day to us He hath given,

be as He, the first to be though He had never begun.*

*This last verse is based on an old translation of a verse from the Jewish hymn “Yigdal”.

Alan D. Busch

May 2008

Wednesday, April 23, 2008



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All that Remains Is Oftentimes More Than You Think

All that Remains ...

All that remains number but few
a mangled scooter for one ....
hidden from view but for all to see
the havoc one mistake had done.

For years on tree bark did knelt
supporting its maple trunk, broadly hewn.
Fearful was I that if memory felt
would be cast to the wind if strewn.

When he rode it home that first night ...
a "giant" astride a motor ride small.
So incongruous the contrast did seem,
what lay before that us would soon befall.

To part with this relic,
would not I his memory betray?
An anguished decision, but I let it go
lest inadvertantly I myself slay.

Unlike the verdant green grass,
that withers so soon fast.
Stubborn remembrance defiantly stay
the course of time long last.


Alan D. Busch
April 2008

Monday, April 21, 2008

I Am Lonely For You, Forever



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I Am Lonely For You, Forever

(Reflections that evening of Ben's death ...)

Drawn back to my house,
wherein her plaintive cries I did hear.
Wept my heart for Ben's mom
with whom I could be neither nor near.

In desperate near madness, oh ... the blackest of nights,
joylessly my family did weep.
So sad when I would have prefered
together with whom I might sleep.

Our child we loved him so much in common,
my mind unrestrained in darkness did roam …
this reality unimaginable, especially stark,
my house … no longer my home.

In memory’s flight I remember this well
when ended Passover they readied to leave.
I felt the burn of his stubbly cheeks
funny how much in remembrance we grieve.

Ben, Ben ... I wept.
We spoke, but then in silence you died.
It was only just a moment before
While slept in my dreams I cried.

So few hours have since elapsed
in the hospital that psalm I did sing.
I am already lonely for you, forever,
when morrow’s morn would no new smiles bring.

Alan D. Busch

April 2008

Saturday, March 22, 2008



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She and You

I’ve explained so much it seems,
enough for us both.
I regret, apologize, admit, confess …
a myriad of failings.
Why haven’t you?

You know what they are ….
I won’t repeat them here.
The burden of guilt I have assumed …
Why won’t you share?

I wonder if each morning …
do you see the person looking at you
who hurt me … do you?
Or do you deny any recognition and …
just go on with your life?

What hurts most of all …
is that you were never here
even after you returned.
The illusion of someone I had known,
but it was not you, as it happened,
though the outer resemblance was striking.

She didn’t love me as you had …
Her distance was farther away
than ever you had been near ….
when I could touch you.

She never smiled …
as you had so often, sheepishly.
When I opened the door Friday night,
I saw you there awaiting me on that couch
that you so disliked.
The table set, candles aglow,
your long braid and flowing skirts …
how much I do miss them … and
you.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008



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"Looking at You ..."

I look at you quietly thinking,
words so many dare I speak.
Return my stare, hear you wondering
hints of solitude do I seek?

None I say but truth be told,
through too few years of feelings forlorn
Fears are mine I’ve become too old,
soon I fear see your stareful scorn.

Beseeching you in words unspoken
through moments of closeness when none more
leave me lonely yet desirous
whether we'll be again as time before …

It’s not my fault when life changes,
hard to say and for you to hear.
My body shakes, my speech stumbles.
What hope is there for us this year?

I think back in hours abandon,
gaity, laughter together we spent
Our posture now is so different,
my new life has become as I resent.

How we were is no longer
passionate kisses, our bodies aflutter,
holding you then as mine alone,
leaves many questions slow to utter.

Alan D. Busch
March 2008

Friday, March 14, 2008



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Dear Readers,

If I may, please click on ...

http://www.emunahradio.blogspot.com/

Thank you Josh!

Torah Thoughts in Flight



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Torah Thoughts in Flight

But for Thee we devotedly wait,
our work unfinished remain.
Put aside all, let worriment be,
No more left this week to gain.

Hasten thy effort lest sunset precede,
our labors have now to cease.
Welcome the Shekinah, Her presence arrive …
Immerse thyself in Sabbath peace.

A day of respite, tending the soul,
set upon tablecloth both bread and wine.
Sanctify this moment He creation made …
closer to Thee my soul doth pine.

Soar high o’er clouds ever above
as if on wings of eagle’s flight.
His people beloved, a nation of priests
Illumines the world with its light.

We are bidden to be as if a dove
to the ark it did return.
For mankind a rainbow He painted
a promise made He would not spurn.


Alan D. Busch
March 2008

Monday, March 10, 2008

Interview with Ha Rav, Ha Chazzan Dr. Phineas Schmeisenbach



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Conversations with Noteworthy Individuals ... A Series.

Conversation with Ha Rav, Ha Chazzan Dr. Phineas Schmeisenbach ... whom I have known for more than ten years and yes, he really does says such things as you will read in the italics!

(An important aside from the interviewer: Reb Phineas is such a “mazik” that I feared the idea of sitting down and having a civil conversation together would be quite simply beyond the pale. I was not wrong.)

*Reb Phineas's remarks are italicized.

Rabbi, I wish to thank you for finding time, given your demanding schedule, to sit down and meet with me for a few minutes.

Busch, what do I know? I’m from the “kleiner mentchen”. Tell me, … how does it feel to be a descendant of the burning bush?


Huh? Oh yea, well … aglow I suppose. (Why does he insist upon saying I’m a descendant of that fiery shrub, hmmmm?)

Rabbi, seriously speaking, I have never had the opportunity to really thank you for chanting Kel Mole Rachomim at the funeral of my son Ben, olav ha shalom, and on a much happier note serving as chazzan at my recent wedding.

No problem Busch. Don’t thank me. I’m from the kleiner mentchen. What do I know?

(Indeed Reb Phineas derives much enjoyment from his oft-repeated claim that his “lineage” is from the kleiner mentshen, the "little people", a self-deprecating characterization. In this way, it allows him to exploit his remarkably mischievous sense of humor as a way to avoid being taken too seriously. Should you not know this clever little truth about him, you might entertain the exceedingly wrong-headed notion that he hails from the much maligned chachomim of Chelm, hmmm?)

Rabbi, you are actually a scion of a much heralded rabbinic dynasty in Yerushalayim, are you not?

A what? Busch, what do I know? I’m from the kleiner mentchen. Mein Henglish is not so good!

And that you have a doctoral degree in pastoral studies from Chicago State University, isn't that correct?

That makes you a Rabbi Doctor. I thought to appeal to his considerable but well concealed ego.

Technically yes it does though I owe much of the credit to Reb Louie. He did most of the work.

What do you mean?

You do not want to know.

I guess you’re right.

So tell me Busch, how is your father?

Considering his age, he’s doing well. Hey, I’m asking the questions here.

Reb Phineas, you are known for the rapidity with which you stand Shmoney Esrei. How can one daven with kavanah at that pace?

Busch, He and I are busy men.

(Reb Phineas points straight up with his index finger. As a matter of fact, he recites the prayers so fast that he is already taking his three steps backward on “Yehi ratson” before you have finished your responses to his Kidusha.)

Rabbi, I have always loved your chazanus, especially Kol Ni …

(He arose from his chair running to the kitchen.)

Betcha he’s going for that leftover tuna fish!

Alan Busch

Sunday, March 9, 2008





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Dear Readers , click on http://www.authorsden.com/alandbusch1 to read a smattering of the writings of Alan D. Busch: poetry, prose, articles, stories, announcements.


Forthcoming in about two weeks is the second printing with minor revisions and a new epilogue of Snapshots In Memory of Ben. A rough draft of the epilogue is posted at authorden.com under the category of "My Stories." Go ahead! Take a peak!


Please visit http://www.snapshotsinmemoryofben.com/ to reserve your copy of the second printing or surf any of the on-line book stores ... http://www.amazon.com/


I dedicate all my work to Ben, Z'L.
Alan D. Busch




Friday, March 7, 2008

"Doing Fine. org"



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Dear Readers,

Please remember to viisiit www.snapshotsinmemoryofben.com

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Free Form Thoughts

http://doingfine.org/redir/50bc6fe5.php

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Free Form Thoughts ...

When reflection looks back upon memory,
I see you quietly thinking.
Gone now you have been for ...
well, I've lost count.

You know how it is ... important thoughts occur to us
when we least expect them,
such as happened last night ...

"I'm learning to live without you ..."

and I realize I've been here before.

It shouldn't be so difficult, right?
And on some days, it's not, but
there are moments when it is and
I regret my many mistakes.

I don't know why I stopped singing Eliyahu Ha Navi to you ...
I only know I wish I hadn't.

Words of regret ... there are just so many of them.

Dare I say any more?

In the way of things, complacency precedes regret,
and it is precisely when that has occurred
that one realizes how irreversible is the irreparable.

Alan D. Busch
March 6, 2008

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

"Simply Musings Pondering Prayer"



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"Simply Musings Pondering Prayer"

Subtle although not hidden,
our strength reside in Thee.
Weighty affliction we shoulder,
enable us your servants to be.

Take hold of His hand in crisis
like Mordechai before no man bow.
Walk humbly with thy Maker,
know how very blessed art Thou.

Acknowledge His majesty each morning,
Your obligation to Him let be,
Dutifully recall before alighting
Ana Ha Shem, I thank thee …

Speak from your heart with devotion
though He utter not a word.
Listen quietly lest His message
reverberate in echoes unheard.

Say these words at your bedside
Your neshuma hath He returned
Offer His gift to others
Fear of heaven hast thou learned.

When at last resistance surrender,
selfless thou art become.
Give back more than you’ve taken
whilst clinging to devotion profund.


Alan D. Busch

March 5, 2008

Tuesday, March 4, 2008



Where authors and readers come together! Dear Readers, please visit me at the above website. Below I present one of my favorite poems. Wouldst I had penned it ...

I do not know who first penned this wonderfully poignant, prayerful poem which I have typed in italics, followed by a short personal commentary; its verses are few but powerful in their wisdom. This is one of those good things you've heard about; you know ... the ones that come in small packages or, if you like, a virtual blueprint of parenting-especially for younger parents just starting out. I've always loved it and have carried it in my head and heart for nearly thirty years though I often wonder how well or badly I measured up during my own early parenting years ...

"Oh give me patience when tiny hands

Take a really close look at your young children's hands ...are they not amazingly tiny and beautiful? Everyone I hope has either experienced or seen a baby grasp with its whole hand but one grownup finger! My favorite fingers belong to my daughter Kimmy; they are beautifully long and slender, and I've loved them ever since I first beheld them upon her coming into this world! I kid you not ... that her fingers were what first caught my eye.

tug at me with their small demands,

I recall Ben trying to redirect that forkful of dinner away from mine and into his own mouth, seated as he was upon my knee and apparently under the erroneous impression that I was to feed him only!

and give me gentle and smiling eyes,

May your eyes mirror the heartfelt joy of your child's achievement; in other words, let your eyes always see and be seen as they were when you witnessed that first baby step! May they always "remember" that moment!

keep my lips from sharp replies.

Teach by example of speech ... moderation, patience of tone and content. Guard thy tongue for once having spoken ... well, the efficacy of "retraction" is entirely fictitious.

and let not confusion, fatigue or noise

Child rearing can be and is often raucous, enervating and frustrating at times ... step back!

obscure my vision of life's fleeting joys ...

Don't ever pass up an opportunity to smell a flower with a child or watch a butterfly flutter about!

so when years later my house is still,

You know they'll fly from the nest one day! While there, keep it cozy, warm and welcoming!

no bitter memories its room may fill."

May our parenting mistakes be few and minor in nature so that our children will return to the nest with their fledglings in tow! If you make it this far, commence*KVELLING!

*Kvelling ... when your heart pounds with pride and joy upon witnessing your child's accomplishments.

Alan D. Busch

Monday, March 3, 2008

"Shacharis Musings"

Dear Readers,



I am pleased to announce that my original piece of poetry "Shacharis Musings" will be published in the coming weeks by Poetica Magazine, Poetica Magazine, Reflections of Jewish Thought "A fierce light beats upon the Jew." C. G. Montefiore


“Shacharis Musings"

As morning light little shines
in still wee hours before dawn’s rise
speak to Him before day begins
through visions of angels’ eyes.

Praises of kindness and words proclaim
majestically soar o’er ocean sand
the majesty of Creator’s fame
know whom before dost thou stand.

Close thine eyes to worrisome day...
With shroud enwrapped o'er thee
bound both arm and head adorned
closer to Him a moloch be.

Ancient hopes on pages worn
in prayers long seen through tears,
awaken molochim early morn
to pray for length of years.

Examine each day ere too late,
In prayerful haste lest thou proceed
Secure a place at Heaven’s gate
Prey not upon man dost heed.


Alan D. Busch
March 3, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Eight Years Ago

"Eight Years Ago" ... on going reflections of a bereaved father in memory of Ben, now in the eighth year of his permanent absence.


Since we bid thee farewell
Eight years ago,
many tears that morning did shed.
Into cavernous depths we lowered thee
united to souls art thou wed.

I want you to know
I have lived as well,
as best I could I did try.
Nary a morn, noon or night did pass,
couldn’t ever help I but cry.

I felt so bad all those years
When your days of youth deprived
while sickness stole so much our strength
from wells that might have thrived.

Much like you, what did we do
when alone there left to lie.
Living our lives lest we stray
from faith otherwise worn and tried.

It is hard to explain
these feelings I have
without you, my life to live
day by day, I can’t but think
my life for yours I wouldst give.

Alan D. Busch
February 26, 2008

To purchase a copy of Snapshots In Memory of Ben, please visit www.snapshotsinmemoryofben.com or reach me at alandbusch@aol.com

Please visit http://www.snapshotsinmemoryofben.com/ to purchase a copy of Snapshots In Memory of Ben

Saturday, February 9, 2008

"The Wall"

“The Wall”

In days long since, from ages ago
ingather to His Makom flock
among whom dost Thou dwell
Ha Shem likvod Yisborach.

L’ Adon Ha Kol l’sha-be-ach
To Him we devotedly send,
Prayerful shards, writ kvitelach
To whom our knees do bend.

Open thy hearts kedoshim
to His avodah, tahor and pure,
gather at His feet molochim
beware lest thy doubts doth stir

Whence this devotion unfailing?
ere stones stand thou demure
open thine lips heaven upward
thy portion in shamayim secure.

Hear please our supplications,
of which uttered none profane …
wherefore our faith sustaineth
memories of pious refrain.


Alan D. Busch
http://www.snapshotsinmemoryofben.com/
Alan D Busch (author) on AuthorsDen

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Sharcharis Musings

“Shacharis Musings"


As morning light little shines


in still wee hours before dawn’s rise


speak to Him before day begins


through visions of angels' eyes.



Praises of kindness and words proclaim


majestically soar o’er ocean sand


the majesty of Creator’s fame


know whom before doth thou stand.


Close thine eyes to worrisome day...


With shroud enwrapped o'er thee


bound both arm and head adorned


closer to Him a moloch be.


Ancient hopes on pages worn


in prayers long seen through tears,


awaken molochim early morn


to pray for length of years.



Examine each day ere too late,



In prayerful haste lest thou proceed



Secure a place at Heaven’s gate



Prey not upon man doth heed.




Alan Busch