Friday, October 28, 2011

Ghost Rats and October Blues

Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA

You play sax
under a lambent sun
leaves as tremulous
in a nervous wind
opulently totter
from aspens and maple
along indifferent roads
in first light Vermont
hitting arpeggios
in unexpected harmony
on nature's landscape
as an unknown bass player
dashes from her scooter
into the cool-headed woods
to perform artlessly
with flowing notes and hair
like Rapunzel
letting go.


—B.Z. Niditch

In my ninth year
of Autumns
no worries suffice
a bulletproof childhood
though sized up
on tawny heights
of our library
an ageless butterfly
takes over
in the weary leaf
of an adventure book
losing sight
of a momentary stir
touching sunlight
as brief nostalgia
scatters my memory
covering the glare
of phantoms
that chapter and verse
a world away.


—B.Z. Niditch

One wonders
on an empty hour
of an ingrown day
at home
what risk
will words take you
passing through
sleepless and buried
as images that concede
on the grounds
of your nature,
and left to live.


—B.Z. Niditch

Sonorous clouds
in a phantom sky
with your pale first light
when thrushes murmur
with quickened wings
on aspen and poplar
covers an unknown dawn
a poet overlooks
blue hills
between two oceans
opens his life-jacket
to sail amid a swirl
of winds
and gull voices
folds his mellow notes
slowly pronounces
his last sentence
in a foreign tongue
expecting to be translated.


—B.Z. Niditch

A poet on fields
by thin stalks
and shrubs
on grassland
a landscape
of small songbirds
as first frost
covers the oak
with sparse leaves
the wind crackles
by limbs
with phantoms
shot though
a clearing
of dark red foliage
all feelings
like branches
are cut off
only the poet
with his initials
carved in the wood.


—B.Z. Niditch

First light
made an apearance
on the listless window
and whispered
to a child,
''Rule the unconquerable
with love''
distant memory
unfolds down by docks
to venture out
by a stranger's words
asleep under sunrise
of an undiscovered dawn
by the sea and ships
on fervent waves
toward a poet's voyage.


—David Iribarne, Sacramento

Poetry is…
Enjoying the quiet in your arms
finding comfort in solitude
radiance and beauty together.

The muse of music
A Way to disappear into thoughts and emotions.
A way put you into words.
Keeps me away from me at times
And brings it all back together.

It is the ripples in the water
The rock that skips in the pond.
Nature’s guide and script
A way to capture earth’s moments.

Searching through words to find you.
find memories
find feelings
find our dreams
find the things that most matter.

It can be what happened in that moment
What happened years ago
or years ahead or even what hasn’t happened at all.

Explaining the unexplainable
Bringing into words
Making it clear to you and me.

Makes words into instruments.
Alliteration allows beats and twangs
to come into play.
We tap our feet and we snap our fingers.
We come alive, we our its essence.

Poetry feeds me, allows me feed you.
It nourishes me and nourishes you.
It invites you into my world and me into yours.

It invites me into your world and me into yours.


—David Iribarne

He dwells in my heart
I draw energy to get through
to the next day
his kisses taste like they
were meant to be there.
Licking my lips I can still feel them.

Laying in the darkness
Envisioning your body
You take me away
Kidnap my soul
your shadow warm
makes my body tingle
my hairs stand on their end.

I try to paint a picture
imagine you next to me
touching my body
comfortable, at ease suddenly
I feel smiles come over me.

You trace my face
with your fingers
can feel your grace around my cheeks
your presence around me
your impression surrounds me.

I stroke my arms, cross them
hug my body as if I am hugging you.
hold tight trying to hold on forever
almost want to ingest you
take your breath with me.

The sensation I feel when you are near me
somehow everything comes together
when you are around
no broken lines
every point seems to meet perfectly.

My portrait is complete
I said you dwell within my heart
but that means you stay with me
you live with me, you reside with me
you complete me.


(a sampling of protest signs outside Trinity Church)
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

No Books in Will’s Will!
Not One Letter Written!
O Pity: His Daughters,
Left Aimless with Quill!

Will’s “Shak” Has No Shake!
His “Spur’s” Without Spear!
Whose Plays Did He Take?
Give De Vere’s to De Vere!

Six Signatures Writ
With a Feather of Lead!
What “Will in the World”
Leaves His Anne the Worst Bed?


(The story is Oxford’s,
long-drawn painful breaths
in the School of Hard-Knocks-Lords:
Lear, Hamlet, Macbeth.)

—in response to the new movie, Anonymous, opening 10/28/11; see


Today's LittleNip: 

There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.

—George Carlin


—Medusa (with thanks to today's contributors, including B.Z. Niditch, who hasn't been around for awhile, and David Iribarne, who reminds us he will be reading at The Show tomorrow, Sat., 10/29)

Ghost Rats
—Photo by D.R. Wagner