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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 – In New York City by B.Z. Niditch January 11, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in B.Z. Niditch, city poems, New York, Veteran Poets.
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Night corners me
by the Savoy
in my original shadow
like a somnambulist
wanting to wrestle
in the snow
shivering in half light
outside the marquee
of “Midnight Cowboy”
bed clothed in leather
with a balanced sadness
heading slowly
for Greenwich Village time
with a new horoscope.
B.Z. NIDITCH is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher.His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including:Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Art; The Literary Review; Denver Quarterly; HawaiiReview; LeGuepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism International; Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest);  Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others. His latest poetry collections are “Lorca at Sevilla”,”Captive Cities.”

He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.

..And God Created New York – Poem and Painting by Helen Burke January 8, 2015

Posted by vscorpiozine in Helen Burke, poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.
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…And God Created New York

 And God created New York , because it was a Wednesday
And ..just because he could.
And at first , when he saw what he had done , he smiled.
And God said ..I will put all the haves at one end and they
Will be miserable as sin itself … and in the gutter I will put|
The have nots and they will know the truth about happiness.
And some will be truly fine , and smile ..but others may want more.
And for them I will put a wheel called kharma in a dustbin
And some will find it , and some wont .
And this I will call the wheel of Destiny and it will amuse me
At the weekends to tinker with its tiny heart.
And move it from bin to bin .
(Things have been slow since the Israelites came home)
.And so – some still went window shopping for what they could
Not have , down women’s blouses and up skirts.
While others saw the light and made a choice straightaway
Of good women and lean meat ( or vice- versa)
And on the fifth day when God saw , truly saw with his new
Glasses back from the menders, just what he had done
He said …….. Oh Shit ……. My My ,and oh oh , what a pickle.
But it was too damn late now.
And try though he might to rectify ………….
All he did was further create Los Angeles , Las Vegas
And some dodgy real estate in California.
The karmic wheel of Destiny was sprung .
Since then , as you can imagine ..God keeps a lowish profile
On a Wednesday.
Just stays home plays poker with the Prophets
And parts the odd Red Sea
(For which the Haves , the Have nots , the Would like to Haves
And even the Used to Haves but cant be arsed now ..
Are glad in equal measure .)
Roll on the weekend don’t you think ??????


UK poet Helen Burke has written poetry for the last 35 years. Her work is widely anthologised and has won many national prizes, including the Manchester, the Suffolk and the Devon and Dorset prize.  You can read more of her work here.