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Deborah Kahan Kolb

 

April 24, 2017

Mrs. Rifka Straussman

You see me now in this frayed old photograph toned in sepia,

My tentatively perfect smile outlined in rich earthy gloss,

My gypsy-black eyes fixed sideways on an absent lover,

My felt hat tilted on top of my sleek dark chignon,

Round my neck the spotle...

April 4, 2017

Watch our SPRING AWAKENINGS poetry reading at Cornelia Street Cafe LIVE!

(My reading begins at the 37:20 mark)

Watch the reading LIVE!

April 1, 2017

Commemorating the yahrzeit of Bugzy Drebin a"h. This poem is for his mother.

Psalm for a Son’s Burial

Hush now, it must be written somewhere

that death is the domain of men.

The father, spent, eulogizes the son –

or the brother, the husband – and he knows his time

for sleep...

March 10, 2017

From Rise Up Review:

Deborah Kahan Kolb is a writer/dancer/educator living in New York. Much of her poetry reflects the unique experiences and challenges of growing up in, and ultimately leaving, the insular world of Hasidic Judaism. Her work has appeared or is forthcom...

January 23, 2017

Saddened to hear that Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus is shutting down, I realized that the circus is still alive and well in Washington, D.C. 

(published in Poets Reading the News and Writers Resist)

The Big Top Comes Down: A Consciousness Poem

once t...

January 14, 2017

I wrote this poem in response to a recent news story that reported and pictured Germany’s Brandenburg Gate emblazoned with the colors of Israel’s flag, in solidarity with the killing of four Israeli soldiers in a terrorist truck attack.

This poem was published in Tuck M...

January 4, 2017

Commemorating my oldest child's 25th birthday with this poem, written (in stages) for his 13th and 23rd birthdays: 

Decade

Thirteen.

man-boy 

mass of anomaly

twin tentacles of frustration and serenity

uneasy harmony of wit and travesty

chafing shimmering humor

simmering rebell...

December 24, 2016

Here's a poem from my forthcoming chapbook Windows and a Looking Glass:

Morning After

Last night we drank ourselves into desperate darkness and now

a freight train hurtles and rips through my head

It derails in the nebulous oblivion between sex and sleep

The dawn coasts int...

December 5, 2016

I started writing this poem when my older daughter, now nine, turned one month old (hence "Monthling"). The poem marinated for a LONG time - and I finally completed it for my younger daughter's second birthday. The sentiments expressed are mishmashed between these two...

November 22, 2016

The Dakota Access Pipeline protests dominate the news, and the images that accompany these news stories are striking and vivid. Hence the inspiration for this poem, published in Tuck Magazine:

The Woman in the

Ring

was clearly celebrating...

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