Ca Phe Hanoi Open Hours: Sun – Thurs 12:30-16:30, 18:00- 00:00 Sat: 19:30 – 00:00 Address: Malchei Israel 3, Tel Aviv Phone: 03-6771184

A fusion between Vietnamese and French?

Ca Phe Hanoi

Open Hours:
Sun – Thurs 12:30-16:30, 18:00- 00:00
Sat: 19:30 – 00:00

Address: Malchei Israel 3, Tel Aviv
Phone: 03-6771184

Ca Phe Hanoi is a French-Vietnamese fusion restaurant located in the heart of Tel Aviv. I had heard many reviews about this restaurant and was intrigued, so when a friend of mine mentioned that she was interested in trying it, I jumped at the chance.

As it is right by City Hall, finding parking was easy, which is no mean feat during Tel Aviv peak hour traffic. We had arranged to meet at 18:00 at the restaurant, so it was still relatively quiet there, affording us the opportunity to look around the restaurant.

As we walked through the doorway, we were immediately struck by the décor –modernist exposed concrete and simple-lined, geometric chairs and tables, combined with the rich colors of south-east Asia: deep red curtains, colorful murals, hanging lanterns, and a towering centrepiece of bamboo skeleton shelves laden with artfully arranged glasses, crockery and Asian grocery products.

The restaurant is housed in an old bank, and its bathrooms are housed in the basement vaults. The bathrooms are a unique experience in themselves – visiting them is a must! Entry is through a reinforced steel doorway, with the heavy metal door and vault locks still standing to one side. Sliding grid doors lead you into the men’s and women’s toilets – whose stalls are made of one-way glass, so that you can look out while other visitors cannot see in- a disconcerting experience indeed.




The friendly waiters were very attentive, seating us immediately and bringing us water, as well as advising us what food to pick when we couldn’t make up our minds. Over the course of the meal, they continually checked up on us to make sure that we were satisfied, and they even patiently taught my eating companion how to use chopsticks (but rest assured, there is western style cutlery available).
The waiters had told us that all the dishes were for sharing, but I will tell you in advance that the portion sizes aren’t large, and there were no utensils given for sharing the food. The deserts, however, are another story, definitely made for sharing, but I will get to them later.

Another important thing to note, is that some of the meat dishes come with sauces that contain fish sauce. The sauce is put on the side of the dish, so that the customer can choose if they want to combine it with their food. In response to our queries on the halachic issue of combining fish and meat, the waiters told us that according to Rabbinical authorities it is ok, due to the minimal amount of fish present in the sauce – however, the final decision is is left to every customer’s discretion.

Because diners are encouraged to share, the savory dishes are usually brought out all together, as a pose to splitting them into appetizers and mains. We had chosen to keep the fish dishes and meat dishes separate, so the waiters suggested that we begin with the fish dishes and continue onto the meat dishes later.

We began our meal with drinks. I had a pineapple, mango and coconut smoothie, which was served in a chilled glass jar and piled with toasted coconut shavings on top. The drink was silky-smooth going down and the flavors were perfectly balanced, without them overpowering one another. I did feel a slight tingling on my tongue but it was nice.



My companion ordered the lychee mojito, a cocktail of white rum, lychees, fresh lime and mint, which came artfully garnished with fresh mint leaves, orchid flowers and lychees. The drink was refreshing and had a strong lychee taste with spiky undertones. The mint leaves provided a good balance to the flavor. The lychees on top were from a can and not fresh, which was disappointing for a chef restaurant, considering that they were in season.


steamed fish in banana leaf

The food came out pretty quickly. Our first dish was the Steamed fish in banana leaf (68nis), with drum fish, black rice, herbs, light soy-sauce and garlic. The fish came beautifully wrapped in a neat banana leaf parcel tied with string, inside a bamboo steamer. I had never eaten anything steamed in a banana leaf before, and I had been very excited to try this dish. The fish itself was firm but didn’t contain a lot of flavor. The black rice on the other hand, was full of flavor from the sautéed garlic and onions, with a slight smoky under taste. The herb that stood out was the dill (was this the French fusion?). There was meant to be some soy sauce but I couldn’t taste it All in all, this dish was tasty, but a bit of an anti-climax.


yellow tail fish

The next dish was one of their specials- Yellow tail fish served with steamed white cabbage, carrots and beans. This dish had more flavor than the first dish. The fish was tender and had a slight sweetness to it. It also had a spicy flair, created by the black pepper. The flavorful sauce of chili, garlic, ginger and coriander really tied the dish together. It was amazing that all of the vegetables were perfectly done, and not overcooked. I found that there was too much pepper on everything, but my companion was fine with it, so it could just be a matter of personal taste. I could taste the bamboo that the food was steamed in, which was unusual. Bamboo steamers are usually lined with grease-proof paper so that the food doesn’t absorb other flavors – unless that was the intention.


vietnamese beef tartane

Then it was time for the meat dishes. The first of our meat dishes was Vietnamese Beef Tartare (48nis), with beans, cucumber, grapefruit, lemongrass, coconut, chili and an egg yolk on top. The beef was cut into just the right size pieces and was soft with a bit of a kick to it. The cucumber took down the spiciness and added crunch, while the lemon grass added additional freshness and depth. I was unsure as to why grapefruit was added to the dish, as the flavor was completely lost among the other flavors. Overall I did enjoy this dish.


xinjiang skewers

Our last main course dish was Xinjiang Skewers (64nis) – two chicken pullet skewers flavoured with lamb fat and spices, and rolled up in a Vietnamese rice pancake. The pancake was made with rice flour and had spring onions folded into the mixture. The chicken was moist and spicy with flavors from India. The taste of lamb was added by the lamb fat. The skewers came served with whole roasted green onion – which was technically difficult to eat due to its fibrousness- and a pleasant bean shoot salad. My one reservation with the dish was that there was nothing to cool down its overall heat.

The desserts were another story- they were fantastic!


caramel chocolate

At the waiter’s recommendation, we had the Cremo Chocolate (41nis), a chocolate brulee with pralines, salty-sweet chocolate crumble and spiced Indian halva threads. The chocolate brulee was creamy yet very light in texture, and the salty chocolate crumble toned down the sweetness, and we loved the flossed indian halva that complemented the desert so well.


lemon grass pannacota

We also had the Lemongrass panacotta (38nis), served with tropical fruits, lemongrass syrup, mint and longan. The panacotta was delicate in flavor and wonderfully refreshing. The kiwi fruit and mango brought out the flavor and the rosewater was subtle and not overpowering.

Our third desert was the Banana Loti (40nis), an amazing concoction consisting of bananas in rum, coconut caramel and almond milk cream, sandwiched between two layers of crispy puff pastry. We truly couldn’t believe that it was non-dairy because it was so creamy.


banana lotti

The flavors just sung together and the textures in the dish were great. The pastry added some crunch, the caramelized banana was just sweet enough and the almond cream was smooth and delicious.

Overall, what I liked the most about this restaurant was the ambience and the desserts, which alone are worth the trip. You could even do a progressive meal, where you could have a main course in a meat restaurant elsewhere and then come here for dessert.

website: http://caphehanoitlv.com/ – The English menu doesn’t list the drinks or desserts, but the Hebrew version does.

I hope you feel Valentine's Day by the Bard of Bat Yam Poet Laureate of Zion

I hope you feel Valentine's Day
is your favorite day this year,
because the first thing I'm gonna do
is hold you tight and shed a grateful tear.

And when night comes, in my strong arms
is the only place I want you to  be,
so I can feel the pulse of your loving heart,
which always sets my soul free.

And in that magic moment in time
all I want to know is
that I am yours and you are mine.

On this romantic occasion,
I hope you will feel free to enjoy us this way
and lose yourself, consumed in my love,
making this our own unforgettable Valentine's Day!

Trivia..... Social Media.... Privacy .... by the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

Emails , whatsapp , sms ....social media ....Facebook ...Linkedin .....Literotica ......Cricinfo .......Google ......Outlook Express .......Mozilla Firefox ......Chrome ..?......KIndle ......Amazon .......eBay ........Flipkart ......OLX .....Snapdeal .....
.......Internet Explorer ........Wikipedia ...........ebooks ......ebanking .......mobile banking ......iPhone ......iPad ......iPod ........Apple .....Samsung .......Microsoft .........Nokia .......LG ......Blackberry .......Visa .......Mastercard .......PIN ......personal index number .......OTP ......one time pin ...........................
Purchase Order , Sales Invoice , Sales Tax .......Excise Duty .........Income Tax .........Credit Note ......Delivery Note .......Goods Receipt Report .......Protocols .......SOP ......DEBIT .......NOTE .........BANK STATEMENT ..............REJECTION ADVICE ......REMITTANCE PROOF .......TRANSACTION EVIDENCE ........AUDIT TRAIL .....CORPORATE VEIL .....
SUB POENA .......AFFIDAVIT ....... INDEMNITY BOND ............
...................................BANK RECONCILIATION ........AIRWAY BILL .....LETTER OF CREDIT ...........BLAH ......BLAH ......
BLAH .................
OVERLOAD ......OVERLOAD ......BURNOUT ..........

“The Tiger by William Blake (1757-1827)

Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Meaning of the Poem

This poem contemplates a question arising from the idea of creation by an intelligent creator. The question is this: If there is a loving, compassionate God or gods who created human beings and whose great powers exceed the comprehension of human beings, as many major religions hold, then why would such a powerful being allow evil into the world. Evil here is represented by a tiger that might, should you be strolling in the Indian or African wild in the 1700s, have leapt out and killed you. What would have created such a dangerous and evil creature? How could it possibly be the same divine blacksmith who created a cute harmless fluffy lamb or who created Jesus, also known as the “Lamb of God” (which the devoutly Christian Blake was probably also referring to here). To put it another way, why would such a divine blacksmith create beautiful innocent children and then also allow such children to be slaughtered. The battery of questions brings this mystery to life with lavish intensity.

Does Blake offer an answer to this question of evil from a good God? It would seem not on the surface. But, this wouldn’t be a great poem if it were really that open ended. The answer comes in the way that Blake explains the question. Blake’s language peels away the mundane world and offers a look at the super-reality to which poets are privy. We fly about in “forests of the night” through “distant deeps or skies” looking for where the fire in the tiger’s eye was taken from by the Creator. This is the reality of expanded time, space, and perception that Blake so clearly elucidates elsewhere with the lines “To see a world in a grain of sand / And a heaven in a wild flower, / Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, / And eternity in an hour” (“Auguries of Innocence”). This indirectly tells us that the reality that we ordinarily know and perceive is really insufficient, shallow, and deceptive. Where we perceive the injustice of the wild tiger something else entirely may be transpiring. What we ordinarily take for truth may really be far from it: a thought that is scary, yet also sublime or beautiful—like the beautiful and fearsome tiger. Thus, this poem is great because it concisely and compellingly presents a question that still plagues humanity today, as well as a key clue to the answer.

“Ode on a Grecian Urn” by John Keats (1795-1821)

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

Meaning of the Poem

As if in response to Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn” offers a sort of antidote to the inescapable and destructive force of time. Indeed, “Ode on a Grecian Urn” was published in 1819 just a year or so after “Ozymandias.” The antidote is simple: art. The art on the Grecian urn—which is basically a decorative pot from ancient Greece—has survived for thousands of years. While empires rose and fell, the Grecian urn survived. Musicians, trees, lovers, heifers, and priests all continue dying decade after decade and century after century, but their artistic depictions on the Grecian urn live on for what seems eternity.

This realization about the timeless nature of art is not new now nor was it in the 1800s, but Keats has chosen a perfect example since ancient Greek civilization so famously disappeared into the ages, being subsumed by the Romans, and mostly lost until the Renaissance a thousand years later. Now, the ancient Greeks are all certainly dead (like the king Ozymandias in Shelley’s poem) but the Greek art and culture live on through Renaissance painters, the Olympic Games, endemic Neoclassical architecture, and, of course, the Grecian urn.

Further, what is depicted on the Grecian urn is a variety of life that makes the otherwise cold urn feel alive and vibrant. This aliveness is accentuated by Keats’s barrage of questions and blaring exclamations: “More happy love! more happy, happy love!” Art, he seems to suggest, is more alive and real than we might imagine. Indeed, the last two lines can be read as the urn itself talking: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” In these profound lines, Keats places us within ignorance, suggesting that what we know on earth is limited, but that artistic beauty, which he has now established is alive, is connected with truth. Thus, we can escape ignorance, humanness, and certain death and approach another form of life and truth through the beauty of art. This effectively completes the thought that began in Ozymandias and makes this a great poem one notch up from its predecessor.

“Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)..... a favourite poem of the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion,

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Meaning of the Poem

In this winding story within a story within a poem, Shelley paints for us the image of the ruins of a statue of ancient Egyptian king Ozymandias, who is today commonly known as Ramesses II. This king is still regarded as the greatest and most powerful Egyptian pharaoh. Yet, all that’s left of the statue are his legs, which tell us it was huge and impressive; the shattered head and snarling face, which tell us how tyrannical he was; and his inscribed quote hailing the magnificent structures that he built and that have been reduced to dust, which tells us they might not have been quite as magnificent as Ozymandias imagined. The image of a dictator-like king whose kingdom is no more creates a palpable irony. But, beyond that there is a perennial lesson about the inescapable and destructive forces of time, history, and nature. Success, fame, power, money, health, and prosperity can only last so long before fading into “lone and level sands.”

There are yet more layers of meaning here that elevate this into one of the greatest poems. In terms of lost civilizations that show the ephemeralness of human pursuits, there is no better example than the Egyptians—who we associate with such dazzling monuments as the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid at Giza (that stands far taller than the Statue of Liberty)—yet who completely lost their spectacular language, culture, and civilization. If the forces of time, history, and nature can take down the Egyptian civilization, it begs the question, “Who’s next?” Additionally, Ozymandias is believed to have been the villainous pharaoh who enslaved the ancient Hebrews and who Moses led the exodus from. If all ordinary pursuits, such as power and fame, are but dust, what remains, the poem suggests, are spirituality and morality—embodied by the ancient Hebrew faith. If you don’t have those then in the long run you are a “colossal wreck.” Thus, the perfectly composed scene itself, the Egyptian imagery, and the Biblical backstory convey a perennial message and make this a great poem.

“The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)... a favourite poem of the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Meaning of the Poem

Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor, this sonnet may have the greatest placement of any English poem. It also has one of the greatest placements in history. Lazarus compares the Statue of Liberty to the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Like the Statue of Liberty, the Colossus of Rhodes was an enormous god-like statue positioned in a harbor. Although the Colossus of Rhodes no longer stands, it symbolizes the ancient Greek world and the greatness of the ancient Greek and Roman civilization, which was lost for a thousand years to the West, and only fully recovered again during the Renaissance. “The New Colossus” succinctly crystallizes the connection between the ancient world and America, a modern nation. It’s a connection that can be seen in the White House and other state and judicial buildings across America that architecturally mirror ancient Greek and Roman buildings; and in the American political system that mirrors Athenian Democracy and Roman Republicanism.

In the midst of this vast comparison of the ancient and the American, Lazarus still manages to clearly render America’s distinct character. It is the can-do spirit of taking those persecuted and poor from around the world and giving them a new opportunity and hope for the future, what she calls “the golden door.” It is a uniquely scrappy and compassionate quality that sets Americans apart from the ancients. The relevance of this poem stretches all the way back to the pilgrims fleeing religious persecution in Europe to the controversies surrounding modern immigrants from Mexico and the Middle East. While circumstances today have changed drastically, there is no denying that this open door was part of what made America great once upon a time. It’s the perfect depiction of this quintessential Americanness that makes “The New Colossus” also outstanding.

Champ or Chump? There's a boastful campaigner named Trump by the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion

There's a boastful campaigner named #OyVeyDonald Trump
who is doing quite well on the countrywide stump. 
All his lied, insults and gaffes 
only get him more gruffs laughs. 
Will he wind up a champ or a chump? 

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost (1874-1963) .... a favourite poem of the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Meaning of the Poem

This poem deals with that big noble question of “How to make a difference in the world?” On first reading, it tells us that the choice one makes really does matter, ending: “I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.”

A closer reading reveals that the lonely choice that was made earlier by our traveling narrator maybe wasn’t all that significant since both roads were pretty much the same anyway (“Had warn them really about the same”) and it is only in the remembering and retelling that it made a difference. We are left to ponder if the narrator had instead traveled down “The Road Not Taken” might it have also made a difference as well. In a sense, “The Road Not Taken” tears apart the traditional view of individualism, which hinges on the importance of choice, as in the case of democracy in general (choosing a candidate), as well as various constitutional freedoms: choice of religion, choice of words (freedom of speech), choice of group (freedom of assembly), and choice of source of information (freedom of press). For example, we might imagine a young man choosing between being a carpenter or a banker later seeing great significance in his choice to be a banker, but in fact there was not much in his original decision at all other than a passing fancy. In this, we see the universality of human beings: the roads leading to carpenter and banker being basically the same and the carpenter and bankers at the end of them—seeming like individuals who made significant choices—really being just part of the collective of the human race.

Then is this poem not about the question “How to make a difference in the world?” after all? No. It is still about this question. The ending is the most clear and striking part. If nothing else, readers are left with the impression that our narrator, who commands beautiful verse, profound imagery, and time itself (“ages and ages hence”) puts value on striving to make a difference. The striving is reconstituted and complicated here in reflection, but our hero wants to make a difference and so should we. That is why this is a great poem, from a basic or close reading perspective.

Shirley 9 minus 2 and New

She poked my self in the eye
With the mascara brush.
Note to self: she could do better,
She wasn't even in a rush.

Glued her  fingers together
Pressing on the nails,
She is not stupid
Its just foreign to former males.

She nearly broke her neck
Walking fast in these heels,
"Not easy girls am I right?"
She asked,"I finally know how it feels".

Got greedy with the padding,
Her  tits grew and grew.
You will have to forgive her mistakes
After she is Shirley just 9 minus 2 and  new.

Rikkki de Riiik is his name by the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

He is a beautiful kittycat, Rikkki de Riiik is his name
And around the yard his grace has risen to fame

Not only does he haveginger coat so warm and soft
He’s quite the little smoothy even up in the tall tree loft

He has a certain way about him, it’s a fact
His personality, my furry friend changes how you react

You fall in love so quickly when Rikkki de Riiik comes into the room
For he takes a lot of time out of his busy day to groom

He keeps your heart on a string And this you can take to the bank
When you become a victim of this charming cat , smooth as sauvignon blanc

Rikkki de Riiik he sits by the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion

Rikkki de Riiik he sits, 
a stoic, 
purrs and meows
as fits his mood, 

Rikkki de Riiik my cat he sits
and does not move, 
as befits
a statue, 

on the mantle piece
table or window sill, 

then with a whirl he moves from
place to place, 
soon stretching out
and lies about, 

suddenly, starts and startles, 
remembering something
he has forgot, 
runs up and down
the steps

chasing his shadow
or something more profound, 
dances up and down
and all around, 
flops on the ground

and sighs
his secret kept

we in a quandry
wonder, 
what makes
him dream
come true 

Mustache Vine Tradition Stephen Darori, Hercule Peroit , Salvador Dali by the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

The Nobel Polish Baron  mustache, on the wafty vine,
sticky black snuff, on your stache has dried,
I excuse your tobacco dipping while I climb,
just to sway with the summer chamsin wind,
in your many tiered mustache ride.

As I reach the zenith of my vining ascent,
a small french Hercule Perot  of upward bent,
offered no more for me to arise and climb,
so downward tickle, of the Salvador Dali vine.

Cello de Jacqueline Du Pre

At four,
hearing her first cello
she held her breath, eyes wide
mesmerized
wrapped in music
a warmth she never lost.

On her fifth birthday,
a small cello with a red ribbon
around the neck arrived.
She caressed the rich wood
reminded of the burnished
autumn horse chestnuts.
How long before her small hands
created melody?


At London Cello School
her tutor wrote in
spidery spinster-whisper
“Jacqueline needs
to control her emotions”
so brightly did she burn.

If asked she couldn’t say
exactly when it was
her fingers betrayed her,
her arms filled with lead
and the fire died.

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The Artist.... I rememeber you by the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion

viking blonde
with glacier eyes, when the news flutters
Utøya
the Bookseller of Kabul
Spitsbergen
and oil revenues,
I remember your face
in school meetings and across pub tables.

As I close the TV down and
space quiet silence crushes the room
I remember your back,

tickled by light through dusty curtains
and thrown down by God
to soak one of his Angels.
As I run the bath,
I remember your hands,
that showed my
clumsy, ugly touch
all they could
moulding me like
one of your lumps of clay
and firing me, re-born,
wiped clean of fear.

As I kill the light in my bedroom
a black blank canvas unfurls around me and
I paint
your jewellery on the floor,
fish restaurants,
your hair in my beard,
the lilt in your voice,
and your legs around my soul,
dragging me deeper
until I wake,
the sun rises,
and you leave, again,
to conquer me once more.
I remember you

Shall I compare thee to Election Day? To #OyVeyDonaldTrump with a nod from Bard a Willy Shakespeare by the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

Shall I compare thee to Election Day?
Thou art more clever and more temperate.
Hispanic rapists over us hold sway,
Political correctness rots our state.
Sometimes too hot the voters' passions burn,
And often is their power of insight dimmed.
And billionaires from altruism turn,
Too frequently their public spirit's trimmed.
But thou, eternal patriot, shall not fail,
Nor will you let the jerks and losers win.
And though the Kenyan makes our nation wail,
your prosperous reign will end our mournful din.
 So long as money talks, and eagles soar,
 We know you'll make our nation great once more!

And I don't think you knew by the Bard of Bat Yam , Poet Laureate of Zion

When did my feelings for you get so deep
When did they take that big long love leap
Going from Facebook friend to hush hush crush 
What a rip roaring rush

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

Sharon ,since when your smile make me go weak
when did yor tears make mine start to leak
Why does this happen when I'm always so strong
When people called me Superman Steve I guess they were wrong

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

When you talk I t watch your beauty mark above your and 2 x lip
To notice their shape and curves when they dip
Wait, why am I looking? Single , available I don't even know
And I can't help but wonder what is your status quo

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

Your beautiful green eyes are like the color of mine
They're so deep and bright you'd believe they were stars on cloud nine
They pour forth emotions in raging rivers
They could make even me believe that Santa always delivers

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

Your body is perfection though you probably deny it
It makes my head spin with every glance I give, I must admit
You have bewitched me for months you beautiful female Joburg Lion
Our displaced Candice Swanepoel and Charlize Theron living in Zion

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

I, the Poet Laureate of Zion love how you look and who you are
Be my muse for many love poems with romantic flair
I love your eloquent columns,smart with a heart so strong
Personally, enticing and nothing at all with them wrong

And I don't think you knew
My long distance interest in you

Now 2016 has gone and 2017 has begunwith Donny T coup d'etat,
I wonder if I invited you and you would care for 10 x C Coffee, Cake , Chat
Conversation, Cuddles, Caresses, 2 are ex rated and not for publication
If that goes well to a Chuppah with Children , two preferably or a zillion 

Now that I, The Bard of Bat Yam, have said it with my poetic skill and ingenuity
Message me back your acceptance, date and time with utmost alacrity

The Poet Laureate of Zion by #BardofBatYam ; #PoetLaureateofZion #stephendarori #israelbkreview #stephendarori

The Poet Laureate of Zion sat at his desk in his displace African kraal
and watched as his ginger and white striped cat
once more came by to pay a call
upon his laptop computer he sat

The Bard of Bat Yam, studied him and his green eyes
Rikkki De Riiik , his cat, stared straight back at him
he had a very royal princely guise
from the day he wandered in with a 'snugglech me Steve' chagrin

This sweet ball of fluff amused the Zionist Muse no end
for sat upon his desk: he refused to bow or curtsey
was a subject who would to '' I have works to complete '' not bend
a paw raised gentle to his cheek in courtesy

He knew that cats and kings were one
of a very, very special kind
for when all was said and done
that's how they were destined and designed

The Bard and Laureate of Zion watched the cat and smiled again
as he majestically,on urgent state business papers settled down
a cat that ruled with cuteness and cuddliness in his domain
his best friend and the Maharajah of all in Bat Yam town