Canadian.

Everybody is talking about immigration, citizenship and more.
We received this letter not long ago from the PM office:

PRIME MINISTER - PREMIER MINISTRE.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Vertes:

It is with great pleasure that I extend my warmest greetings and congratulations to you on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of your arrival in Canada.

Our country's strength and vitality are derived from individuals like you who chose to make Canada their home.
This special milestone offers a chance to remember your journey, to reflect upon the significant events which have shaped your life in Canada, and celebrate you contribution to our great country.

I join with your family and friends in wishing you the very best on this occasion, as well as every happiness in the years to come.

Yours sincerely,

( Signed) Stephen Harper. Gold Seal of the PM.

Memorial candle.

"I our sadness we should be grateful for the years we shared with our loved ones."

(My composition about memorial...)

MEMORIAL CANDLE.

Watching the memorial candle flickering light,
You try to remember many events, the dark, the bright.
There is only one candle is burning on your table,
And you want to start a pray, but you are not able.

YISGADAL...

Should be a dozen candles, thousands, rather 6 million or more
To put on every table, in every home, to cover the entire floor.
But you light up one and you look into the flame...
Being a survivor, you know well whom to blame.

YISGADAL VE"YISKADASH...

The memories will be ever here to stay,
Our pain and emptiness will never go away.
Still the earth is moving,
Still the clock is ticking,
Still we keep crying...
But we must go on living!
Today followed yesterday, tomorrow will be the day after.
Give yourself peace in mind, a hopeful time. Now. Not later!
Today your tears are running when you pray,
Tomorrow you MUST have a better day.

YISGADAOL VE'YISKADASH SH'MAY...

Life can't be controlled only by your past,
Thinking about your future. That you MUST!
We have to take care of our friends and our family.
Think about it. We have to fulfill our destiny.

Look again into the cool, blue candlelight,
And look forward for a brand new fight.

So, my dear, say one more time:

YISGADAL VE'YISKADASH SH'MAY RABBO........

Lake Simco again....

*******Lots of things we do in the country, everybody is having a good time.

Doing large puzzle, windsurfing water sky and tennis, or just motor-boating....

How about fishing? For sure the BBQ is busy!

No radio, no TV, no newspaper, not even shaving, just good books, or magazine to read.

Cutting grass, chasing raccoons or wild ducks with Oliver (the dog)....

Do you know how to spell: R E L A X ?

Rosh Hashana

We celebrated Rosh Hashana 2007 (5767) in Toronto. Joanie made a toast to the Vertes, the Birnbaum and the Chris families. "This is the best and happy way to celebrate our Holidays. I hope every year will be the same. Good health, happiness and Le Chaim to everybody." The table was full, and everybody was very happy.

Ballad of the Death

One of the best poem Francois Villon wrote is: THE BALLAD OF THE DEATH. This gave me an inspiration to write a poem about it.

He was born in France, in 1431 and he lost his parents when he was eight years old. Guillome Villon, a priest took him in his home, gave his new name, and sent him to Sorbonne University.
Since the age of 12 he was writing poems. Villon loved good wine and bad girls. Most of the time he was drunk and spent lots of times in the jails. Many times he had to flee Paris to avoid the jail. In 1463 January he again was on run, left Paris. Nobody ever see him nobody knows when he died and where.

His poems live forever!

MY INSPIRATION OF FRANCOIS VILLON.


THE KING OF KINGS.

Gold, ruby and diamond cover the velvet crown,
His robe made out of feather, white and brown.
Shiny, dark black wood decorates the entire floor.
Diplomats surround the King. Soldiers guarding the door.

"I am the King! The whole world is mine!
Forever I will rule, until the sun will shine!"

The black robed Death arrived and started to tell:

"You are a bad king, and i will take you to Hell!
The sun is rising, but I, the death will decide your fate.
You will come with me NOW! I don't want to wait!"

THE RICH DAME.

A rich dame lives in a large mansion with manicured land...
The maid cleans everything, you couldn't find a speck of sand.
She is looking in the mirror to see a beautiful face,
And the well-made gown, with lots of silk and lace.

"I will be young and desirable forever!
Ugly or old I will be never. NEVER. NEVER!
Many rich lovers, lots of diamond they will bring
In every finger I want to have large, shiny ring."
The door opens; quietly the Death comes in without a noise:
"No more rich lovers! I will have you! You don't have a choice! "

THE STINGY BANKER.

Counting and recounting his money many times a day..
He wants more and more, but nothing to give away.
"A little from here, a little from there...this is my joy.
I don't want to have a wife, or or a child , not even a boy!

The Death climbs trough the window during the night:

"I will take rich or pour, sick or healthy without a fight."
The banker cries: "Let me take my treasures. Without them I will be lonely!"
The Death said: " No! You don't take anything! This is my rule and the only!"

THE INNOCENT CHILD.

He has many toys, fancy clothes. He is a happy child.
With lots of friends he plays games, gentle or wild.
He is very smart, has a big future, for sure it will be bright.

He is healthy, beautiful and very pleasent day and night

Education, marriage, have a large family..

Big success to look for and live in harmony...

The old Death talks quietly: "I don't give you any explanation,

I just ask you to come with me now without hesitation."

THE MASTER OF MUSIC.

The left hand magically touches the string,
The right moves gently, like the quiet spring.

When he plays a happy pieces, the violin is laughing.
Playing a sad composition the audience can't stop crying.

"Don't break my bow! I have hundreds sonatas to play!

I want to perform, to make every listener happy and gay!
"Your symphony is over, from your violin every note is history.

I will be your audience! I will be the only one to hear your melody!"

The violin is silent, the magic wood sings no more.

The concert is over, the audience see only closed door.

THE OLD FARMER.

His father and his grandfather cultivated this land,

Hard work is the farmer's life, his back is always bent.
He work before the sun rises, until the sun set...

He is not happy: no rain at all! The earth is never wet.

When the Death arrives, he knew it is time to go...

"I want to ask you something: please don't tell me no!\

Brother Death! I have only one favor to ask, than I will go:

The soil is poor, hard to make a living with empty hand
Cremate me and spread my body to enrich our land."

The death understand him and carried away his body....

"When a good man dies, he will leave behind his legacy."

He throws his ashes tenderly with steady hand,

For future generation will have rich and fertile land.

THE LESSON AND CONCLUSION.

When you were born, your destiny is written down,

You can be a dictator, an artist, or a jumping clown.

Even if you have lots of money, you will go without wealth!

Love your family, your friends, but first: take care of your health!

(Written in Florida, 2005)

OPEN THE DOOR

OPEN THE DOOR.

Open the door, when somebody needs your help,
Even if it is early morning, six o'clockn or twelve.

Open the door, when someone ask for your helping hand,
An old, a sick, a handicapped, who can't walk or bend.

Open the door in your heart, when a lonely person needs your love,
A person in person in your family, a friend, a neighbor, one, two or five.

Send a greeting, a simple note and you will recieve a lovely letter.
When you open your door, YOU are the one who will feel better.

For you, my heart always has has a wide open door!
Send me your love and I will give you back much more!

Montreal 2002.

Lake Simco

North of the city,

away from the crowd, you didn't hear a voice.

There stand a little house

middle of the garden. To buy it it was a good choice.

The cottage outside is charming,

inside is big. It is a lovely home.

Sitting on the porch

and look far away, listen to the gently wawes..

Simco Lake, they call it.

The view is great, the besy of many lakes.

This place to relax,

read good books, no newspaper, no war, no politic!

Windsurfing? Go ahead!

Or tennis, or baseball you want to play?

Go for a walk or even better

fire up the B.B.Q. It will be a quiet day.

I don't play golf...

but you can go if you feel.

Play some card game

and if you loose, it is not a big deal.

Even the dog Oliver is happy chassing a bird,

Or bark on the wild duck...I just saw the third...

One more thing:

I forget to tell you: go swimming

If you are hungry

and have some spare time, go fishing.

The sunset is beautiful,

it isyour clock to end the day.

Time to pack and close up

you are tired, but happy and gay.

You open the door on Rosemary road, No. 226

This home is also beautiful, almost nothing to fix!

Monday you will think of Friday,

during the week you what to do....

This little poem I wrote

I wrote to him, to her and for you.

Lake Simco Ontario 2003.

I remember my mother.

Mothers day is once a year, but for me it is every day.

I REMEMBER MY MOTHER.

A simple women, a good wife, she was a good mother.
Not having an easy life, like many, many other.
Good life she didn't have. Tears were plenty!
But with good children her life never was empty.

To give good advice, to learn better manner,
To organize my closet, put everything in order...
She wanted me look up, forward, to have good friend,
Not to follow the faulty ones. She said: "Backward you never bend!"

I REMEMBER MY MOTHER.

She was worried watching carefully my first bicycle try,
And when I fell, hurting myself, she was the only one to cry.
Watching the clock when I came home late,
Worried, afraid...but she had in me lots of fait.

When I was in the hospital to take out my tonsils,
I couldn't talk to her, had to use papers and pencils.
She did all my favorite food, cooked the best dishes
For her only son to get better. That was her wishes.

I REMEMBER MY MOTHER.

She never was sick, always ready to clean, to cook...
One of the pleasures she had: reading a good book.
For my sister and for me clothing had to be fix,
Working, loving her children, it was a healthy mix.

My returning from "gulag" she was far away and sad,
Her heart pulling both ways, this was very bad.
She moved to new promising land, with a flag blue and white,
To work harder, facing the future with little light.

I REMEMBER MY MOTHER.

My mother and me, we lived far apart for many many years.
She never complained, to hold back the painful tears.
Missing a husband, a son, good friends, she just hoped for the best,
Always worried for the family, she did not give her heart a rest.

I had to cut sort my vacation trip short to fly to Israel.....
Can not say GOOD BYE to her, must attend her burial.
The ground is dry now. She is resting forever,
Can't call me: "My dear son..." anymore. Never.

I REMEMBER MY MOTHER.

When I remember her, I feel happy with a smile,
And understanding her, it took me for a while.
Her life was not wasted, but I can't write to her a letter,
But when I think of her with love, I feel much better.

YES! I REMEMBER MY MOTHER!

About my "Magic Pencil"

This is my apology.

I am not a poet. I am not a writer, not even a composer. I am just a retired old dreamer, who was born in 1924.
I didn't have an English education, or a Creative Writing diploma. I just put an empty sheet of paper on my table, and let my pencil copy my feelings, my thoughts or my dreams. The pencil transfers my mood, my heart into many lines. I don't control it, and the end result are in the following pages.
Read them slowly, and don't judge the too harshly. My poems are not in the "Library of Parliament", my name is not in the book of "Who is Who?"
Simple line from a simple man, and if like some of them, I will be happy to know, that my "Magic Pencil" did a good job.

P.S. Please let me know.

Dancing again! (Never give up hope)

A little story from my past.......

During, and after the war I was in a Russian labour camp for two and a half years. I was very sick there, and when I came home in June 1947 the Hungarian Government sent me (with a few others) to a sanatorium, a Health Resort for three weeks.
There I had all kind of mental and physical therapy, good food and they gave me some pocket money.

Every evening after supper I went to the open-air restaurant to eat some ice cream, or a little wine, and to listen to the good music. Before the war I was a good dancer and I loved to do it.
In the restaurant it was hard to find good looking and good dancing ladies, but I had fun.

Almost every evening I noticed a beautiful young girl pushed by her parents in a wheelchair. When they arrived, she stood up, took a few steps and sat down to a regular chair and never moved until they went home. With her feet she followed the rhythm of the band. They were living in the best part of the city. Many people knew them, greeted them, old and young.

The last evening of my stay, I don't know how and why, I got the idea and went to their table and said: "Good evening. My name is Leslie." I asked her parent's permission to dance with their daughter.
For a few second there was silence, as my approach seemed to be very extraordinary, and much unexpected. The mother wishperd to the girl: to go, and to me she said: "Yes! With pleasure!"
She stood up, holding my hand and very slowly walked with me to the dance floor. The band was playing a nice tango, my favorite. She was a little shaky when I put my arm around her. Slowly we started dancing. One minute later we were the only couple on the dance floor,, everybody sat down and watched us.
I saw her parents and many others with tears running down on their faces.

She told me her story:

Since she was very young, she was studying hard to became a ballet dancer. She had talent for it. She was twelve years old when polio struck her. In the last five years she received all kind of painful treatments and therapy. Nobody, not even her doctor had any hope that she will able to walk again. She love she listened to music, which was and is her love. She said, in a few days she will be seventeen years old, and this dance is her best birthday gift ever, and a turning point of her recovery!

I was honored and happy that I did ask her to dance and to make her hopeful and very happy. When the music stopped, slowly we walked back to the table and I expressed my heartfelt thanks. Her mother approached me, hugged me, repeating her thanks with tears in her eyes. WHAT A REWARD!

On the way back I realized I forget to ask her name, but it was too late, the next morning I left the Spa. I don't know what happened to her. Did she recover fully? Became a dancer? A wife? A mother?

I HOPE SHE DID IT ALL!

When I look around, I see so many unhappy people, divorce, separate, fight, hate. I see the other side of the coin:

TOGETHER. FOREVER.

Two leaves were born in the early spring,
Shiny new lovers vibrating like butterfly wing.
With the breeze, warm rain, promising sunshine
They grow fast, getting bigger, smooth and fine.
They promise to love and stay close to each other,
To be always side-by-side. Forever together!
The summer was a very happy time and lovely,
Facing each other, dancing, whispering, never lonely.
One day in September a new wind came with the brush,
Started to put on the rusty paint slowly. No reason to rush.
Green turns into red and brown and yellow.
The trees became noisy, far from mellow!.

But they stay together as they promise they will,
Caring only for the warming sun, not the coming chill.
October came. The breeze changes to windy blow,
Dead leaves cover the ground, no more will grow.
One of the lovers broke away and fall,
Resting on the ground not far from the wall....
The other left alone. The heart is broken,
The partner is gone, the lover is stolen.

With a strong will, slowly falls after the lover,
They stay again side-by-side, happy as ever.

The wind understand love, dead or alive,
And carried them to eternity, until spring will arrive.

(Cote St-Luc. 2000) Leslie Vertes.

Hello! If you don't know me........

If you don`t know me, I will tell you something soon:
My name is Leslie. I was born under the full moon.
I was born, study, work, married and have a distinguished family:
Vera, George, Joanie, Gregory, Alex and Jaclyn (Emily).

I am just an ordinary man,
Try to be busy as much as I can.
I am not a rich person, don`t call me wealthy.
The only thing I want to be: very, very healthy!
Don`t try to analyse me, don`t waste your time....
On a scale of a new dollar, maybe I worth an old dime.

Even if you look hard, won`t find my name in the library,
Quietly, I did my share of life, never been a celebrity.

You can ask me anything, except for my hard-earned money!
But if you need, I can give you milk, bread, butter or sweet honey.

When the times comes and I will leave this globe, who will miss me?
Somebody will look around and will ask: "Where is Leslie?"

Give me a short call when you just read this letter
I will be grateful to you, for a few days I will feel better!

(Don't forget: my name is Leslie.)

Hudson Village

We spent a nice time with our good friends in the garden of Hudson's Willow Inn. Good lunch, good talk, good weather. Aug. 2007.

Dance with me.

The music is in your heart,
The rhythm is in your body.
Dancing is a nice feeling,
Just move with the melody.

When you are dancing, you will
Never be lonely!
To mingle among nice, happy people
All of them are lovely.

When I was young, dancing a waltz
Was my first enjoyment
From a slow tango, to the quick samba
It was a big improvement.

Later, a foxtrot kept me
Moving very fast,
With the rumba in between
I never had a chance to rest.

Doing the twist and the Charleston
Was a good exercise,
And during the acrobatic rock-and-roll
You must improvise!

With your good partner, doing cha-cha-cha
One..two..three..
Swinging back and fort in every direction,
Like a monkey on the tree.

In my heart I feel the pleasant melody.
The lyric is getting old, but not the symphony.
The orchestra changes notes, didn't stop performing,
The rhythm is there, but my legs aren't moving.

I would like to hold my partner on the dancing floor....
But my legs don't follow the dancing crowd anymore.
The mind is young, only the legs are old,
Time goes by, no silver lining, only rusty gold.

PLEASE MY BEAUTIFUL LADY! MAKE ME HAPPY!
LISTEN TO MY HEART, AND DANCE WITH ME!

(Thank you from Leslie Vertes)