Freddy Zalta

Poetry, Love and Coffee – A cocktail of a life in progress.

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  • Whispers of Memories

    Scenes from an old coffee shop in Coney Island where we used to go…too much sugar in that small cup made your tongue taste sweeter than it should have. It must have been me, must have been my fault. I had no idea, I had no clue – I still have no idea and have…

  • Clowning

    I want to embrace but she is holding her arms across her chest. I need to love but I am lost on a stage filled with jest, the joke, the jokes, they are laughing at me.

  • Tough and Gentle

    He is sitting there, no light in his eyes Who stole it or did he sell it to the man living on the border line by the river Diablo? That tall man with the crooked conscience who will never learn how to live true… It’s sad when you really think about it but who has…

  • You run out of breath

    You see, there is this vortex… The old tale of selling one’s soul… It happens every day. I know I have a soul but sometimes I feel I must’ve lost it in the flood, it went floating in a spin, down the drain, where people with false smiles and goods to sell, wear bright and…

  • Truth

    Look around and don’t be fooled, sometimes a smile is used as a mask to avoid truth from being exposed.

  • Nurture

    Tony was a heavy set kid and was dark skinned. In Brooklyn he had often been mistaken as a spanish kid. It never bothered him since his best friend, Bobby, was from Mexico City and they were often mistaken as brothers. Also, in Brooklyn, it never really mattered whether he was Spanish, Italian or Jewish;…

  • David Wright – Captain Emeritus

    Baseball, like life, takes circuitous routes through history. Just when we think there is a player who can never be replaced, a new prospect comes up and becomes the face of a team. Every once in while, maybe even once in a generation; a baseball player comes around who seems to love the game and…

  • El Capitan

         Tommy had hoped to experience a whole new world and to be inspired to write a story based on the old man. He had hoped to catch a lot of fish and to find a job in one of the local papers. Instead he became ensnared by the fishing and the smell of…

  • Somewhere People are Smiling

    If life wasn’t so difficult there would be no poetry or art of any kind. Just as if life was not so rhythmic it would be dark and terrifying. Freddy Zalta 8/22/2018

  • Riding the Writer’s Block Train

    I sit by my laptop at night or early in the morning and I draw a blank.  I think about people I have seen on the trains, the streets or in cafes. I think about the customers I have met, family members and friends. Their faces and demeanor scream stories but my brain wont speak…