Uvi Poznansky Uvi's Comments (member since Apr 09, 2012)


Uvi's comments from the The Creative Spark with Uvi Poznansky group.

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Nov 04, 2014 08:32AM

67670 We were born in darkness, crying a fit
Like grains of sand, countless stars came up, lit,
We wanted to turn back to the warm womb
Instead we were wrapped by chill and by gloom

Born in darkness, we labored so hard
To find our way in this universe
We were greeted by its hug, the cruelty of its curse
Its predators' jaws... We were forced to traverse.

Ma, why did you fool me, what was it for,
When you sang me a lullaby, not a song of war?
Oh why did you hide the ugly truth from me
We were born in darkness, our life--not to be?
Written by My father,
Translated from Hebrew by me

Get ★★★★★ HOME
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Print http://bookShow.me/0984993231
Audio http://tinyurl.com/Home-audible
‪#‎AudioBooks‬ ‪#‎poetry‬

Home by Uvi Poznansky
Nov 02, 2014 09:30AM

67670 So instead, my mother decided to acquire stuff: Ornamental purses of different shapes and sizes; an assortment of extravagant fur hats, imported from her faraway birthplace; and numerous pairs of snakeskin shoes with high heels, which were ill suited to the desert sand—all of which caused a stir among the local people.
I can recall how, as a child, I got a rare permission from her to come into the inner part of her tent, behind the screen, and take a peak into her chest. It was overflowing with nose rings, bracelets, and flamboyant clothes. With hesitant fingers I touched one of her shirts, which at the time, was way too big for me.
“Here, Yankle, try it on,” she offered.
I did. I can still remember it: The trace of her jasmine perfume, the striped blue-on-white pattern of the weave, and the swooshing sound of the fabric as it flowed over my head and cascaded around my feet. I remember her laughter, her sudden embrace; and a heartbeat later—opening to me out of the shadow, right there behind her back—the watchful eyes of my twin brother Esav, who must have been standing there for a while, without making a sound.
How my mother sensed his presence—by what quirk of intuition she knew he had been studying us—I will never be able to guess. Perhaps she saw him in my eyes. She looked at me then with an intense look, and in a flash I learned that the unsaid can be more forceful than words. What passed between us at that moment I cannot begin to describe to you. I could hear her heart beat, and at the same instant, the same hammer was pounding in my chest.
With great calm, she gathered the garment from my hand. Then she folded it back into the chest with slow, measured movements, lowered the lid and with a clack, locked it.
“Go out, Esav, go play,” she said, without even bothering to turn her head, without even looking at him; and then she added softly, “You too, Yankle.”
In two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were outside. His hair was flowing, thick and wild, in the wind as he chased me, caught me, punched me down.
All the while, I knew: I would never forget her love, her letting me wear that unusually beautiful, striped shirt. And neither would he.

Get ★★★★★ A FAVORITE SON
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A Favorite Son by Uvi Poznansky
Nov 01, 2014 09:48PM

67670 Hope you had a great Halloween, everyone! Like to dress up in costumes, or to strike a funny pose? You've come to the right place!

Here is Bathsheba Bathing, a lovely oil painting painting by Paolo Veronese, showing king David approaching her with a proposition in mind... I invite you to step into the scene, and help the action along! Here's how:

Come join David and Bathsheba in the royal gardens


Books and Reviews (254 new)
Nov 01, 2014 09:08PM

67670 Just finished reading Left of the Rising Sun and here is my review:

This is a story about endurance against all odds. At its center is ten years old Buck Brown, who is most comfortable in the back of things, as an observer. “This invisibility helped him hear lots of things not meant for young ears.” Oh his flight home, you know that things will go from bad to worst in a hurry as the pilot says, “Been flying blind a bit, used a bit of gas, but I think we know about where we are.”

At first we watch the landscape from above, “Far below, a patchwork quilt of dry savannah country unfurled beneath the plane.” During the crush, objects come at us fast and furious: “Tall trees loomed close. An explosion of sound tore through the plane throwing everyone forward. Something hit Buck in the back of the head. Everything went black for a brief instant of tortured time. When he came to, muddy billabong water sprayed over the windshield and windows, partially blocking out the light.”

The landscape is a character in this story, and together with the sole survivor, Buck, we experience it in an intimate way, forming a partnership with nature. Figuring out how to make his journey back home, a distance of 400 kilometers, he invents ways of hunting and gathering in this harsh environment. He strikes a friendship with Sammy, an old, blind man. “Nights were a time for talk around the fire. Buck loved the fact that Sammy never talked to him as if he were a child.”

Through the conversations with Sammy, we hear Buck’s longing for home, for his mom and dad. “That night they ate the snake. It tasted a bit like the goanna had tasted and that had tasted a bit like greasy chicken. Buck was amazed at how easily this was coming to him now. His mother had always complained he was a ‘picky eater.’”

This is not only about his survival, but about how the journey forces him to mature. If he makes it home, will he be able to enjoy school games, will he regain a child’s innocence, or will this harrowing experience change him forever?

Five stars.
Oct 31, 2014 07:59AM

67670 Am I dreaming? I stare at it in great awe.
“Ah!” says Satan, noting my expression with great interest. “You are a curious creature, woman.”
“No disrespect intended, sir,” I say, “but don’t play with me. If you know my name—which I am sure you do—you would do well to use it when you talk to me.”
“Oh, I would,” he teases me, “if you were to offer me at least a token of gratitude, if you know what I mean.”
I do. And it’s not that I am not tempted... Satan is a handsome fellow, even with fine-haired goat beard on his chin, which is something I could persuade him to shave off, in time...
“Here we are,” he presses on. “All alone, apparently, in a deserted library... Now, how badly do you want your name back, woman?”
In place of an answer, I gulp.
And he says, “I am given to caprice, you know. So I may, perhaps, be persuaded to give your name back to you...”
His words go roundabout, but his gaze is quite direct. Which leaves me dumbfounded; but only for a second. After all, even as a corpse I cannot risk a scandal—and in my own village, or the copy of it, of all places! The place seems vacant at the moment—but then, who knows?
They say, walls have ears... And gossip, my God, it would be devastating. For sure, it would kill my husband. His heart has been so weak lately. Betrayal—even a whisper of it—would crush him. It would add to the weight of his mounting woes. I still care for Job, even if I am here, trapped in this hellish replica of my birthplace, and he—somewhere up there, in the real thing.
In the silence that has fallen upon the room Satan leafs casually through the pages of the book. Then he raises the magnifying glass to his eye, and glares at me.
“I see,” he says. “Didn’t think so. Just testing; forget it.”
“I will.”
“You are not all that sexy, anyway.”
“And you, sir, are not such a hotshot.”

Get ★★★★★ TWISTED
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#dark #fantasy
#halloween


Oct 29, 2014 07:57AM

67670 So exciting! Producing the audiobook edition of A Peek at Bathsheba is quickly coming to its completion! This is a sweet moment for me, and a sad one too, because I would miss working with my wonderful narrator, Justin Harmer, who has truly become David, and every one of his wives and enemies.

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This is a sweet moment for me and a sad one


Oct 26, 2014 09:56AM

67670 So, he drinks; after which I ask, with caution, “So—what did the doctor tell you?”
He’s raising his eyes again, but the right words can’t be found nowhere close to him—not on the ceiling, or on the wall, or the floor, in this corner, or that. So instead, Lenny shuts his eyes and, like, stumbles into saying, “The doctor, he said: Mr. Kaminsky, the tests came back.”
“At this point,” he recalls, “I took a hard swallow. The doctor paused briefly—perhaps taking another look at the test results—and then went on to say, I have some difficult news for you. Your wife, I believe, has a form of Alzheimer's.”
I take the briefcase away from him, ‘cause it’s just about to fall, anyway.
And so Lenny can’t brace himself no more, ‘cause at this point, he don’t have nothing to hold on to, and nowhere to hide. Instead he just sits there, with the empty glass, saying, “Alzheimer's,” and then again, in a voice that is nearly gagged, “Alzheimer's.”
And after a long pause he adds, “At the sound of this word, Natasha was confused and I—I dropped to my knees. I remember, she could not get it, could not understand what was going on and told the doctor, Wait, hold on, I cannot talk to you now. Call back later, something is wrong here. No, not with me—with my husband.”
Lenny takes off his glasses and like, wipes something from the corner of his eye, and my heart goes out to him. And then, then the strangest thing starts happening to me. For the first time in ten years I feel not only for him—but for her, too.

Anita in Apart From Love

In this passage, Lenny tells his new wife, Anita, how the doctors finally came to the conclusion that Natasha, his ex-wife, suffers from early onset Alzheimer's. This is not an easy conversation for him, having kept the secret to himself for such a long time.

Apart From Love by Uvi Poznansky
Oct 25, 2014 02:08PM

67670 All was quiet now, deadly quiet. You had to put your ear close to me to hear the one thing, the only thing that screwed up this silence: the crinkly sound of my hair and nails, continuing to grow, somehow. Even the crows had stopped echoing their calls between one and another. And yet, I was not alone. I could sense another presence--

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They were painted quite liberally with some blood-red smear


Oct 24, 2014 02:33PM

67670 Gnarled branches here entwine
Ghosts send shivers down your spine
If you trick or tweet tonight
I will give you such a fright

I'll stay Twisted until dawn
Until then, leave the lights on
I'll scare you with a puff of heat
Apart From Love, it is my treat



Apart From Love
Twisted
Oct 22, 2014 09:24AM

67670 Upon that night when ghosts arise
To shriek in gusts of wind
They’ll warn you of your demise
Deep under gravestones pinned

Pretend you never existed
On the ground, above
Pretend you are not Twisted
And not Apart From Love

Twisted
Apart From Love


Oct 06, 2014 05:31PM

67670 John Tucker is a multi-genre author, who says about himself, "I embrace my Gemini ways with an abandon that generally belongs to serial killers, traveling evangelists, and the heroes of most Zombie movies." What a great surprise to find his review of A Peek at Bathsheba:

★★★★★ A Modern Take on an Old Bible Story, October 1, 2014
By J.D.Tucker "J.D. Tucker" (Monroe, Georgia)

Growing up in church I always heard the story of David and Bathsheba in a negative way. True, David loved her at first sight, but the dirty way he sent her husband into the front lines of battle in order to kill him soured my views of the Biblical Hero. From heroically slaying Goliath with a sling, to cowardly sending a man to his death in order to claim his wife. Uvi Poznansky managed to change my mind a bit with this modern take on David's obsession and pursuit of the woman of his dreams. It's definitely not a dry book. It brims with emotions like passion, jealousy, lust, triumph, and self-realization. Religious without being preachy, historic without being boring. Five Stars.

Get ★★★★★ A PEEK AT BATHSHEBA
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#historical #romance

A Peek at Bathsheba (The David Chronicles, #2) by Uvi Poznansky
Oct 03, 2014 01:44PM

67670 Without even looking at the entrance to the tent, without even touching the cold surface of the hourglass, I know: It is nearly empty. The sand is running out. For us, there is no more time. He will never realize who it was standing there by his bedside, overcome and awash with tears.

To read more, and listen to the beautiful narration, click here:

The voice is the voice of Jacob


Books and Reviews (254 new)
Oct 03, 2014 10:06AM

67670 Just finished reading Dream Child and here is my review:

This time, the twist of the entire Dream series on the “What if you could see someone else’s dreams” question has taken an extra new bend. It is, “What if your child could see your dreams, and the dreams of others? What if she has your power?”

Here is the first time Sara realizes that her daughter, Lizzie, can see inside her: “She was seeing—she was inside—she saw me dreaming. She’s got it just like I do.” Being inside her is doubly frightening because at this point there is a new life inside Sara: she is pregnant again. So in a way, there is a sense of violation when boundaries can be crossed like that, even when the dreamer is only a four-year old, sweet child. On the other hand, there is the motherly wish to keep her daughter safe, which in this case may mean keeping her away from people whose dreams she might penetrate. Which is exactly what happens when Sara and Lizzy meet two strangers, a woman and her son Billy, on the train. Billy’s father is being blackmailed, which will put Billy and his mother in danger.

The conversations are lovely, showing you a family scene between Sara, her mom, her husband Brian, her mother-in-law, Helen, and Lizzy. It is the dialog that wraps the entire mystery in a wholesome, familiar veil, and observations such as this, about Lizzie: “Then she occupies herself by trying to get both twins smiling at the same time, which is a trick none of us have managed yet.” . And, it is also the sense of inheritance of power, and the connection between generations: “I can’t believe that in all this time, for seven whole years, I never once wondered about my mother. If Lizzy got it from me, I had to get it from somewhere too. And I never gave it a thought.”

Five stars.
Oct 02, 2014 12:26PM

67670 #99cents #sale: A Favorite Son

Read it now: A favorite Son
Enjoy the tale that I have spun
About two brothers, greed, rivalry
Who will stay? And who will flee
Forever haunted by regret?
The book is here, for you to get!


Oct 01, 2014 11:11AM

67670 By the time I turned sixteen, mom had developed an unexplained fear, a fear of getting lost, which was quite pronounced, even as she headed out for a short walk, such as to the grocery store on Wilshire Boulevard, not more than a couple of blocks away. She seemed to rely, with an increasing sense of anxiety, on the familiar, and would become ferociously shaken if a chair was accidentally moved out of position. We all knew that the instrument--which was only hers, because I had stopped playing by then--was sacred. It was not to be touched.
And so, too, was she...

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We all knew that the instrument was sacred. It was not to be touched


Sep 30, 2014 02:19PM

67670 Somewhere at night a string sings out
All's dark, silent, filled with doubt
I'm alone, and you?
Out there, in the cold, a string sings out

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After You're Gone


Sep 28, 2014 07:46AM

67670 Munia wrote: "Thank you very much for this wonderful group dear Uvi. I shall be active on a regular basis soon enough..Thanks a lot for your great poetry posted here..Enjoyed reading them."

Aw... My pleasure Munia, glad to hear your voice!
Sep 26, 2014 10:35AM

67670 "And then she left him.
He looks at the line. It is written in blue ink, pressed into the sheet of paper—vigorously here, faintly there—with his usual stroke, a stroke that drives through the spikes and valleys in the shapes of the letters at a steady slant. The line reaches the margin, where it is punctuated, unexpectedly, by a red stain..."

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The line reaches the margin, where it is punctuated by a red stain


Sep 25, 2014 04:46PM

67670 Just updated the book description for Apart From Love, this captures more of the story, check it out:

Secrets, passion, betrayal...
Coming back to his childhood home after years of absence, Ben is unprepared for the secret, which is now revealed to him: his mother, Natasha, who used to be a brilliant pianist, is losing herself to early-onset Alzheimer's, which turns the way her mind works into a riddle. His father has remarried, and his new wife, Anita, looks remarkably similar to Natasha--only much younger. In this state of being isolated, being apart from love, how will Ben react when it is so tempting to resort to blame and guilt? "In our family, forgiveness is something you pray for, something you yearn to receive--but so seldom do you give it to others."

Behind his father's back, Ben and Anita find themselves increasingly drawn to each other. They take turns using an old tape recorder to express their most intimate thoughts, not realizing at first that their voices are being captured by him. These tapes, with his eloquent speech and her slang, reveal the story from two opposite viewpoints.

What emerges in this family is a struggle, a desperate, daring struggle to find a path out of conflicts, out of isolation, from guilt to forgiveness.

Where does the title, Apart From Love, come from?
The word Love is used sparingly in the novel, which makes it ever more precious. The title comes from a phrase used three times in the story:

After a while I whispered, like, "Just say something to me. Anything." And I thought, Any other word apart from Love, 'cause that word is diluted, and no one knows what it really means, anyway.
Anita

Why, why can't you say nothing? Say any word--but that one, 'cause you don't really mean it. Nobody does. Say anything, apart from Love.
Anita

For my own sake I should have been much more careful. Now--even in her absence--I find myself in her hands, which feels strange to me. I am surrounded--and at the same time, isolated. I am alone. I am apart from Love.
Ben

Sep 21, 2014 07:09AM

67670 Justin Harmer will be playing David, and every one of his wives, advisors, and enemies, in the upcoming audiobook edition of A Peek at Bathsheba. Want to know why I chose him? How could I not, with this audition? Take a listen:

Playing David




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