Monday, May 2, 2016

B.Z. Niditch- Three Poems


We are passing
to another season
near the Maypole
with fresh sunflowers
in our garden hands
day dreams will survive
all barbed wire
of poisoned jealousy
beyond villages
of freezing grey
in Bleak House
watching a departing poet
as a mourning dove sings
by a sailor lost at Hull
at the light of a small river
after a tourist has been
seen weeping by the shore
in a poisoned pen letter
from his girlfriend
leaves us by cool rocks
under a shadowy orchard
wanting new friends.


Backgammon players
crowd in the shadow
of the hospital ship
off islands of the sea
where adventurer tourists
hear me playing jazz violin
in the warm night air 
risking my music life
no longer poisoned
by motionless lovers
yet abandoned
from a warring girlfriend
of once alarming devotions
now under cold sleepy covers
now my gestures move her
in prayer to forgive me.


A poet needs to hear
an all clear signal
by the deserted wind
for exiles on the river run
or high seas
that we tremble at this hour
when the air turns cool
by the ocean's sandy beach
near the rocks and stone
of this home harbor
a solitary hawk draws us
emerged from the dunes
he too was searching for
the living waters and bread
in a passport of memories
pausing at a shore to search
for food not poisoned
by tourist traps.