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Poem by Jade Blackmore- The Christmas Tree, 1999, Park Slope December 31, 2019

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, New York, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.
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Two girls carry a Christmas tree from the Seventh Avenue lot,
Scotch pine needles littering the sidewalk
As they maneuver it home.

Young Moms pass by with baby strollers,
Their children bundled in faux fur jakets
Young lesbian couples with blue and pink hair
Canoodle on the way to the indie bookstore.
The Hasidic Jews smile and nod,
The bearded professors ignore them,
The cigar-smoking Teamsters walking out of the dive bar
Leer and ask if they need help.

The roommates veer across their trash strewn front lawn,
as their neighbor holds open the fraying wood-lined  double glass doors.
The tree dodges narrow hallways and jutting bookcases as the girls hit their mark-
a pedestal in the corner of the spare room.

They cram the noble pine with 99 cent store garlands and ornaments
Except for the obligatory carved woodblock Santa from the local craft market
That cost more than all the other decorations combined.

The tree, you know, it’s sort of there,
With no children or significant others to enjoy it.
It shields no whimsically wrapped presents
Or puppies in Santa hats.

It’s a backdrop for a photoshoot.
The blonde girl wears a Marilyn Manson Satanic Army sweatshirt,
poses with a giggle
and a glass of champagne
It’ s all so very end of the millennium.

The branches shed after New Years’, needles on the hardwood floor.
Cheap glitter ornaments shed tears.
The tree is finally trussed up on the curb,
Nearly naked,
In the middle of January,
The wood block Santa plucked off at the last minute.
Battered branches share a mud puddle
with a few Juicy Fruit wrappers
and a rusty pocket knife.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem by Jade Blackmore- The Old Couple and Their Cat October 27, 2019

Posted by vscorpiozine in cats, Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.
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Photo by ChromaConceptVisual

The Old Couple and Their Cat

He sits between them in the middle of the night
Until he wanders off
Underneath the half-broken grey shag tower,
Or a chair covered by a Turkish robe.
He sits at the edge of the bed guarding them from vermin.

In the morning,
They rub his marshmallow white belly,
And brush him when he commands them with a squeak.

He sees her and darts
From the end of the balcony
Back to the door.

Runs under the old man’s desk
Purring and trilling,|
to comfort him when she is out of town.

They give him treats when they have an evening snack,
So they all eat together as the blue light fades.

Everyone else
who cared
Is only a phantom now.
In the quiet of old age,
The old couple and their cat
protect each other.

Poem by Jade Blackmore – The Past, Five Times Removed February 21, 2018

Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, Veteran Poets.
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She wanted to visit her grandmother’s old house
But the cherry tree by the bedroom window
Was replaced by pale brown dirt and
Subway wrappers,
The front door was boarded up,
The lattice railing where she climbed with her brothers
Long gone.

There was a robbery in the cell phone store
Where the video place used to be.
Parolees in fencing masks
Shot the teenager behind the counter.
There was a beheading behind the church
Where she had her first communion.
The body buried in the backyard
Where the lady who made Barbie doll clothes lived
Until she moved to Arizona.

The library where she once checked out opera records and Beatles albums
Once bustling with schoolchildren sneaking in candy bars,
Now smells of stale cigarettes and urine
As homeless men sleep in chairs scratched with gang graffiti.

Downtown,
The factories turned into lofts,
The Gothic stone
Crumbled,
The greasy spoons
Are gone.
Long, leisurely
Post-drunk nights
Belong
In another century.

The dark, cloistered building
That housed her first job
Out of high school is
Now bright and airy
And filled
With floor to ceiling
Windows
And offices
Without old ladies
Or the clacking of typewriters,
Only the morphing sparseness of the present.

Times will change
The world will bend to the whims of
Rich criminals and poor thugs.
Everyone in between doesn’t matter much.
The world doesn’t care about her memories
So she keeps them close
It is all she has.