Wednesday, July 16, 2014

B.Z. Niditch- Two Poems


Minding my own business
being shy for the cameras
on way to my gig
walking over this metropolis
without an attache case
only this cold luggage
like my pawned violin
held by four strings
containing a life's work
of quartets,riffs
and songs for our time
with vital plays on words
a cup of java In one hand
and a murdered Danish
in the other
shaking off a coffee cup
with schnapps
on a Southern road
in a runaway midnight
of a day
such as this,
you may not yet recognize
the composer inside him
in his all black cape.


With a cargo
of vulnerable letters
by Mallarme in my lap
dazzled by
a withered fragrance
along the Seine,
primal fears
speed toward me
over the gorselight waves
my play is to be performed
from English
to my helpless French
the sky seems dead
awaiting rain clouds
as in a half completed
painting by Monet
in endless blue
but I believe my play
'' A Life in Vichy"
about the liberation
will rescue memory
among friends
from a damaged time
of a poisoned occupation
and my three acts
will bring about
a metamorphosis
of love,reconciliation
and new found peace.

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