Freddy Zalta

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  • Slow Train and other Poetry

    Swirling clouds, never ending views of giant buildings and lonely days. Photographs from another lifetime circulate on the front page while snowflakes descend from nowhere and float all around.

  • The Curse of the Poet

    Lost in my over thinking…the curse of the poet who dares to see beyond what others pretend to recognize. To define colors as only their own eyes can define them. To hear the music and read the words better than the composers or the scribblers. The curse of the poet who dares to love way…

  • A Star is Gone

    “Someone to watch…over…me.” She ends her set with this song, that for her, is a prayer. The applause dies down and she walks backstage. She sits in her dressing room in silence but can hear the crowd laughing in the background. “It must be Joey or Joanie on stage now.” She thinks to herself. That…

  • Joke was Not Funny (or Dirty Stained Teardrops)

    When the joke is not funny and it never truly was… When her eyes seemed true and you remember them as blue, but the tears she cried were brown with lies and dirt which fell down. Stained your white shirt and destroyed all sense of trust…

  • Balcony overlooking the Past

    I question my sense of my past; are my memories true or are those visions simply a movie I watched once long ago? A book read or a song sang? I tend to romanticize what has been and what cannot be again…

  • An Unexpected Encounter

    The actresses and models were always drawn to him. Perhaps they felt he could write a story with them in mind or help cast them in a movie. He didn’t fancy himself as good looking – rather he was average looking. If he had not been a successful writer he would not be looked at…

  • Not too Late

    Feel the darkness begin to color the evening blue, watch as the stars surround the moon. A lonely photograph never to be seen again.

  • A Murder of Sorts

    beauty confined is a murder of sorts

  • O’ rain puddles on the dirty street

    O’ rain puddles on the dirty street

  • Not Only a Dream

    In the air, in the house, aromas of misconceptions and emotional persuasions towards… The fireplace is lit and the heat is overwhelming the freezing drops of wind that find its way inside… Her body, ablaze with her love, hair falling over and her eyes closed and her lips smiling.