Writings of A. Siegelster   

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The Dream House

Posted by [email protected] on April 14, 2016 at 3:15 PM Comments comments (0)

It was a brand new house I’d never seen before

It was enormous

At least what I saw of it.

The tiles of the bathrooms

And the wood floors

The color of dark rust

The ceilings low and the doors tiny.

Until I went inside

My room

The heart of the house

A tree ran through the centre

And I could feel the sanctuary

Of a forest floor

My being beat in there

And it was mine

I was safe and myself in there.

I saw my sister’s room

I know I saw it

And I thought it was also amazing

But I have no memory of what it looked like.

A skip and a hop away and there was a parlor

It opened up into the biggest living area I had ever seen

High vaulting ceilings

Space in which to dance

And high glass windows opening into a vast expanse of green.

It was so bright and airy

The whole space

The entirety of the house

It was as vast as an ocean

And it went on forever in the openness of my mind

It could never close.

I felt like a child

Whose imagination continuously runs away with them

Whose perception of space is entirely different from my own now

How such endlessness and immensity could exist here

Shies just short of my own cognition.

It could have been a work of art

This house that I knew

And I wish I could go back there.

But it is here in my head

Where it started.

The Courtroom

Posted by [email protected] on April 14, 2016 at 3:10 PM Comments comments (0)

The court of law was in session,

The room filled with young people smiling enthusiastically,

Excited for what was about to happen.

Why should they be so excited?

Criminal charges are never a happy matter.

But then all of them were young or so it seemed.

Maybe they did not know better.


Who were my clients?

I knew them then and spoke with them often,

As one in my position must do to make their case.

I do not know them now.


In fact,

Everyone there is unfamiliar to me,

Though I knew them,

I knew them when I was there.


What were my clients charged with?

I should remember that,

It was so important at the time,

As I would have had to have taken this on as if I myself were the one charged.

There’s nothing there.


The prosecution made its case first.

There was very little to it,

No founding,

No evidence,

And though I could not see his face I knew it was smug as he finished his tirade.


It was my turn then.

I was ready.

I had notes prepared.

I had evidence.


I rose and faced the onlookers.

I spoke slowly and clearly with no slip or stutter.

I gave every scrap of evidence that could possibly save them.


Why was I saving them?

The short answer would be that they had paid me.

But there was no indication of money then.

And I did not know them,

They really did not mean much to me.

So why was it so important?


After a recess the verdict was given by the judge,

There was no jury that I could see.

I remember him being so familiar,

But again there is nothing there now where he should have been.


He pronounced them guilty,

And for that I was astonished.


I asked him,

I asked that judge why he should find them guilty,

The prosecution had nothing except a sneer,

And I gave all the evidence that there was,

I was thorough,

I had the smarts in that courtroom.


The judge looked blankly at me,

As if I didn’t matter,

As if this whole thing didn’t even phase him—

I suppose judges need to be strong as steel

So they don’t scratch or bend under all the pressure that is instead given to us—

And he said,

‘You tried too hard’.


I thought about this event ever since it ended,

The details are still only vaguely there.

And it comes to me,

The charges are not important,

Who was there doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things.

It is easy to forget it all,

But for the ringing of those words in my head.



How in the universe of my mind,

How in my own courtroom,

How in everything of my making

Could I have tried too hard?


An L.A. Study: Moving, Skipping, Jumping Westward

Posted by [email protected] on April 14, 2016 at 3:10 PM Comments comments (1)

I’ve lived here all my life, slowly moving westward as I grew. Along the way I met all sorts of people and saw so many interesting places. Most have moved here from somewhere else: there are crowds of east-coasters; few from the midwest; and very rarely have I seen any from the northwest, unsurprising that they are content to stay put. I would be content to stay put there, with its rain and greater sense of calm…

But I digress.


There are many from distant places that come here too. It is unsurprising that they all come here— the promise of opportunities, the fast-paced streets and busy lives, parking spaces, a collection of international cuisine, films, second-run Broadway— just some of the reasons why I also am still here. I meet people who have lived here as long as I have, but I do not feel that they can describe this place the way that I can, though it is very, very difficult, the words that come and go are as fast as the cars in the rain, and as bright as the fireworks after the ball game. But I will try.


A mile of miracles lies right in the center, and what a miracle it is. It is the heart of fine arts and other fine discoveries: great works displayed on walls, in swampy pits, in the technologies of new machinery, and of old. One feels as though they’ve learned something rather grand when they come and go from this vast place. I lived in miracles for many years, enjoying the urban life the culture and the cuisine.


The music can be found to the east, where no one goes because it is far, because of the dirt and smoke, because it is not Beverly Hills. You could imagine what peoples those are and where they might live. I never see much of them. But some come for the music. It is the best music in the world, housed in steel sails and the most echoing of wood, overlooking the very structures that keep all of this alive and working. I spend a great deal of time living and making my living here, as do many others. It is a hub for the professionals and the officials.


After a time I came to my favorite part, where no one seems to live, and yet it is always crowded. This is the beginning of the West, the lights bright and colorful, the bars hoppin’, the party-goers giddy and gay, and everyone so happy to see you there. I go for the company, the drinks, the diverse cornucopia of cuisine that is available to me, to everyone, and oh does it make one feel wonderful.


Happiness, that is the key to a place like this, it is the key to most of these places, but in this one it is pulsing and alive. It is a place I miss much.


There are those who talk of the beaches far to the West, where the water is a deep bluish-brown and choppy on sunny days, and a silvery grey on cloudy ones when the seal-ish surfers ride waves too large and perilous for the day-goers, boogie boarders and small children running away from the waves with peals of singing laughter. Here the culture is lax and lazy, but who wouldn’t love a place where one could leave all of their troubles behind in the city? So many people with one goal here, it can only be described as lovely.


Alive is how I would describe the whole place compared to others. I’ve been to many places in this great expanse of country we all call home, but none has ever made me feel this way. It is a place of miracles, a place where stars shine the brightest, where art and music know no bounds, where every color you could possibly imagine pops out of the widest spectrum, where a richness lives, an incomparable richness that I know I will never feel again. And I have not even covered everything, not in my entire journey through this enormous place, for there are not enough words to describe my home, this City of Angels.


Bee Sonnet

Posted by [email protected] on April 14, 2016 at 3:10 PM Comments comments (0)

It is upon this bright and beautiful morn

Though not quite yet the heavy hot of summer,

I look at which the blossoms do adorn

The gentle buzz and small shape of a hummer.

She goes from blossom to blossom in flight

A fluttering flit and not so much a soar,

And never to the trees of such great height,

Dainty blooms for this little dumbledore.

Along the day she and the other bees

Flit and fly to gather the flowers’ fruit,

The daytime spent under the shady trees,

Then night she goes and all will follow suit.

The night allows in their work a short pause,

To celebrate the sweetness of their cause.

Sad Sonnet

Posted by [email protected] on April 14, 2016 at 3:10 PM Comments comments (0)

A woman here I knew and one I loved,

Her countenance surprising all who saw

And made them stop and stare at her with awe,

And even I in my first glance was moved.

Her eyes were dark as an onyx gem’s gleam,

Her lips bright red as a crimson-hued rose,

Her eyelids ever drooping to a close

As if she were getting lost in a dream.

Oh ever full of clouds her eyes did seem,

That gleam around her lids so darkly painted,

The crimson lips with blood is always tainted,

From gnawing them to hold a silent scream.

How silent and how so darkly demure,

This creature who such sadness must endure.

A Tree Once Grew Right Through My House

Posted by [email protected] on March 1, 2016 at 11:00 PM Comments comments (0)

A tree once grew right through my house,

A great thing it was in the middle there,

Through my room it shot straight up,

It's bare branches hanging low.


It was a wide-girthed creature,

Too big for my little arms to hug,

Though I loved it dearly where it stood,

Filling my large, wond’ring eyes.


Beneath this tree I placed my bed,

Its presence a calm and safe one,

Quite suitable for sleeping under

If you're little and alone.


Upon its lower branches I hung faerie lights

To give it another air of magic,

And I felt like magic too,

In my large room under this large tree,

I felt like a faerie myself. 

The Kingdom And The Monster

Posted by [email protected] on March 1, 2016 at 10:15 PM Comments comments (0)

There is a tale of a time not long ago

In a land that seldom seem to know,

Even I who falters to remember

Has only just saved this dying ember.


There lay a kingdom beautiful and fair,

With a king whose wisdom was beyond compare,

And whose subjects worked well day and night

To keep that green glen free from plight.


But one such night there came a wail,

Like a banshee’s scream brought in on a gale,

And in the morn the subjects found

Half the kingdom razed to the ground.

And every single night since then,

The wailing droned out into that glen.

’Twas a monster, it was heard, that came out every night,

To destroy what it could and curse life with blight.

And every morning without break

More was trodden or killed in its wake.


The wise king knew why this monster haunted,

To bring grief and fear was what it wanted,

To make the night terrible and evil

And bring chaos upon it in its upheaval.


And so one night the king awoke,

And bade his people as he spoke:

“Awake! Awake in this deadly night!

“Take up your arms and aim to fight!

“For this creature rises in monstrous might!”

“Who is it?” they implored when the king was done,

But from his wise lips the answer was none,

For this beast had never been named,

For no name could grace one which won’t be tamed.


And so they took up shield and arm

With which would give the monster harm,

But each night when the foe was met,

No victory did either get,

For each side was wounded in fight,

On and on for years since that first night.


And with each clang of sword I remember,

And a flame sparks from this dying ember,

That I was there and heard everything,

I felt every anguish and every sting,

For each sword they bore was mine,

And the flesh that felt each scarring line.


My screams were heard east, west, north, and south,

Each voice from one giant maw of a mouth,

It could be, for my mind was once wise and kind,

But wails and screams now fill my mind.


Was I these soldiers? Am I a king?

Or am I this monster, this evil, this thing?


There is now always war in this once free land,

But it has been ensnared by this vicious and bloody hand,

And the love that had once been near

Has been chased out and now brings me fear.


The king dead, and the soldiers fled,

In the monster’s wake such dragging dread,

Oh how I wish I could remember,

The remnants of my slowly dying ember.

The Gods of Science or The Evolution of the Forces Behind Science and the Motions of the Universe

Posted by [email protected] on March 1, 2016 at 10:05 PM Comments comments (0)

© Abigail Siegel, 06/07/2015

I. The Ancient Gods



O Muse, sing to me of the greatest tales,

Of stormy winds and bellowing sails

The art and song of philology,

And the changing gods of philosophy.

Bring me poems of epic Calliope,

And from Urania the tales of astronomy.

Tell me the tales of the changing deities,

And keep my words in endless eternities.

But such gods there were long before You,

You muses with such stories You drew.

The gods who began it were not of Your world,

And now let us have the story unfurled.

The story begins in ancient Eridu

Where the chaotic gods ruled, Tiamat and Apsu.

As in every tale great battles took place,

The great Marduk won, Tiamat fell in disgrace.

By the skill of Marduk the earth was formed,

With Tiamat’s entrails it was adorned.

Many gods like this came to be,

Who formed the earth, the sky, and sea.

In ancient Egypt, in the sky there held

Ancient gods in Thuban dwelled,

From Sirius watched the mystic Isis,

And from mighty Orion watched wise Osiris.

And these the ancients saw where they lie,

From Giza could be seen the endless sky.

And in the north more gods did come,

In ancient Greece where You are from.

They say it began in Chaotic abyss,

And by Gaia came Uranus and Tartarus.

Uranus the starry sky wed Gaia the steady earth,

And to their children and Your families did they give birth.

You and they ruled for ever so long,

The heavens and earth rang with Your song.

But alas Your time came to an end,

As the minds of the ancients began to bend,

Their minds turned from idolatry

And came to the world of philosophy.


II. The Gods of Philosophy



In the world of thought there came to be

A new view, the philosophic deity.

Socrates’ pupil, Plato, was tasked

To answer a new question that had been asked,

Outside where planets, stars, and heavens whirled

Could there be another world?

But God created a single eternity

And rested in the unchanging Unity.

For God’s idea was whole and spherical

And based on the views that were empirical.

But Aristotle, his student, said

That’s not how the universe must be read,

For him there were no omnipotents,

For the segments of the universe lay in the elements.

Aristotle agreed also with his mentor

Of the universe being one and having only one center,

But that the elements moved in their own ground

With earth at the center and water around,

With air taking up the vastness of the sky,

And fire, the lightest, as comets do fly.

These were the forces that Aristotle knew

And the popularity of his ideas grew,

But the problem grew of an unexplained notion,

The issue and observance of retrograde motion.

This seemed to be solved by another man

Later who had a model and a plan,

This the man who long prevailed

Was the scientist Ptolemy, who from Egypt hailed.

His model then consisted of

The planets and the stars above,

With the earth still in the middle

Ptolemy solved the retrograde riddle.

Around the earth lay the deferent

On which the journey of the planets went,

And with the new epicycle it was found

That on the deferent the planets go round,

And so on their own revolutions the planets traveled

They appeared to go backwards, and the riddle was unraveled.

And thus was restored the idea of the almighty,

Who rested in the universe of endless eternity.


III. The Gods of Rebirth



In the beginnings of the Renaissance

Some began to take a different stance,

The God of heaven still ruled in might,

But there were still questions that needed light.

Great minds then began to stray

To think of what is night and what is day,

Of how the sun really moves and where it does go,

If the earth is still or moves to and fro.

They thought earth was still, as the church always does,

But that wise old fool saw it for what it was.

The universe still moved as a sphere,

But the earth was not the center here,

And the great God was still in place,

But the church laughed in the old fool’s face,

For Copernicus’ model of this glorious rebirth

Did not show the favored, centered Earth.

And so for now it did seem

That Copernicus’ model was simply a dream,

And the model that Ptolemy before attempted

Was the model that was then accepted.

Then another came forth to say

That Copernicus’ model was the right way,

For the wise Galileo Galilei

Also saw the truth in the night and day.

He knew that the earth moved as the planets above

As he observed Your sister, named for Love.

But again the observations were disputed

And his theories of the world refuted,

For the church had stubbornly noted

And from the Bible texts they quoted

That the observations of this man

Went against the Almighty’s plan.

But in the end were they such gods to say

What in scripture was the absolute way?



IV. The Gods of the Revolution



Not long after, thoughts took a different way

People’s minds being molded like clay

By thoughts of God and the secrets of movement,

Though You would not say it is much improvement.

Through the minds of these geniuses there later came

A god, a force, with a different name.

This was no more the God of conventionality,

But the new God of rationality.

A man whose life devoted to study

And the secretive field of alchemy

Sat under a tree to rest his head,

But an apple fell on it instead.

And in this great Newton saw what came to be

The theory of the force of gravity.

Now Newton was a God-fearing man

Who devoted himself to God’s eternal plan,

And with this apple that lead him to gravity,

So too it gave him the Knowledge of God’s reality.

God was infinite in the timeless infinity,

And rested eternal in the universe eternity,

For this system could only be under governance of

That intelligent and powerful being that presided above.

But the apple would turn the tides

And make Newton see what force resides,

For while God is the infinite and present being,

The eternity of gravity is what he was seeing.

This force, unlike God, could be calculated and marked,

And this gravity the revolution sparked,

For the motions of the universe could now be defined

And the chaotic ideas of science refined.


V. The Gods of New Science



With the news of gravity having grown

Some expected the fuss of it to settle down,

But there were more who were not satisfied

Until all the forces of the universe were identified.

One such force was discovered to be

A product of magnetism and electricity.

Two most important minds in this field to this day

Are the scientists Maxwell and Faraday.

Faraday knew the nature of magnetic fields,

And discovered a charged force that the magnetic field wields,

Through his experiment with wire and ferrum

He showed that the currents did come from

A changing magnetic field

In which that electric current it did wield.

This study took place through many a brain,

But the ultimate conclusion Maxwell did explain.

He took the techniques of Faraday’s scrutiny,

And introduced electromagnetism as lines of geometry.

His equations on Faraday’s works made right

That the speed of electromagnetic waves was the same as light.

And this discovery of electromagnetic phenomena

Set the course on track for particles and quanta.

Light on its own was a god to them too

As it provided the answers to things in this view,

Especially to Einstein who would soon detect

The energy of the photoelectric effect.

Light was originally thought just a wave,

But it was not just so in the explanation Einstein gave,

For when a wave of light hits an atom in metal

Into electron and photon particles the energy did settle.

And so now this great force of electromagnetics and light

Has created new gods with such different might.

You might not consider these to be gods at all,

For these many gods are incredibly small.

It was before thought the atom was the smallest there was,

But it was found that smaller particles were their cause.

I have already noted photon of light and atom’s electron,

But the atom also had positive proton and neutral neutron.

There were other particles other than these,

That fell into two categories:

Fermions are the most typical,

The electron, quark, and neutrino particles.

Bosons carry the forces of the universe

That through space and matter they do traverse,

Because of their force, and the distances traveled,

The mystery of the universe could be unravelled.

These particles and energy give the universe the possibility

Of being formed in the Big Bang Theory.

This explosion of one super god

Gave way to formation of smaller ends and odds,

Hot and red the universe started out,

But cools as the energy spread about.

With the particles moving in its extensity,

Another godly force pulls matter away from gravity.

But what was the cause of this grand explosion,

The great force behind this creation?

The cause of this belongs to three deities,

The Inflation, Dark Energy, and String Theories.

These theories could explain multiple worlds also,

Upon which Plato struck a forceful blow,

He said because of the Unity there could be no such instances,

But even these theories are saving the appearances.

For Dark Energy cannot be seen or calculated,

And the vibrations of String Theory cannot be demonstrated.

The Inflation of the Big Bang can still be seen

As an indicator of what may have been.

Though while the other theories cannot work on their own,

Against each other they can be shown,

For the appearances are saved when they work together,

But no measurements can yet be seen in this endeavor.

And so because these ideas can only be stated,

The gods of the multiverse cannot be demonstrated.


For now, it seems, these endeavors have come to an end,

But who knows where this story will bend,

For there are so many more gods to discover,

Many forces and particles to uncover.

You, O Muses, should have no fear,

For the story does not end here,

For You, You are not all gone,

You are the new generation that moves science on,

You make progress on the strange and the new,

And for Your work, we praise You.


Being Young

Posted by [email protected] on July 8, 2015 at 5:00 PM Comments comments (0)

I remember being young,

Disdainful of all around me,

I feared buzzy bees and being stung,

While love and war surrounded me.


I don’t now remember the feeling

Only that it indeed was so,

For so long my mind was sent reeling

At the love I’d come to know.


Now I do not fear the stings of bees

For their purpose I have come to know it,

And the love for this world gained from ancient trees

And no longer afraid to show it.


But this change of heart comes with age

And the knowledge of one’s mind and heart,

For years it takes to dispel such rage

And learn a different art.


But now that I am older

And I see such similar faces,

The young are getting bolder,

And resentful of their places.


These ideals of such young dispositions

By the world and logic skewed,

For the reality of their positions

Is not of an easy view.


It is easy for me to see

Why the world is now quite small,

It is uneasy, and hard to breathe,

And the sight is not nice at all.


What I try to understand

Is why so much youth is spent at a standstill of the mind,

Why they speak with trembling hands

And find it hard to be kind.


I suppose though that it is not their fault,

That they have such little say,

For the open world has come to a halt,

And bigger people have the right of way.


I am still so young

And bereft of understanding,

But in the many songs I’ve sung,

The tune grows less demanding,


And the ultimate goal in life, I feel,

Is to seek and know and find,

To embrace the fantastic and all too real,

And remain unfailingly kind.


What keeps me going is the knowledge

That knowledge never ends,

But in the world of quiet privilege

To knowledge minds do not bend.


But as I said before

The years do calm this hate,

And while the world we can’t ignore,

We can learn and participate.


So many fear the elder powers

And try to stop the time,

But each year to stop and smell the flowers

They might find the world sublime.


Some learn and get warmer or colder,

But I suppose it is a price of getting older,

And though the world is of lower brow,

The bee stings do not scare me now.

Aching In My Own Skin

Posted by [email protected] on July 14, 2014 at 11:25 PM Comments comments (0)

I came into this world kicking and screaming,


The very feel of my flesh was like a burning husk,


I wanted to scratch it off.


From one side I was told I was beautiful,


The other told me I would do great things.


I believed both of them,


And I hated them for it.


My mind was made,


It could think for itself.


But my body was pulled or pushed one way or another.


I wanted to climb out of my very skin,


To be free and leave them with merely the shell I was forced to call home.


Now I am free,


My mind knows and my body knows,


Though my steps may falter.


And yet I fear now the escape from my skin,


The day that will come when I may know no more.


I do not know.


I often wonder about it.


Will I go kicking and screaming as I had come in,


Or will I go quietly in resignation and acceptance?


I do not know.


But either way I will hate it,


Not knowing whether I will still be free,


Or trapped again.