Pictures From Chinatown

THE STEEPS OF SAN FRANCISCO

My Other Jazz Poem

Originally posted on The Village Wordsmithy:

JAZZ DAYDREAMS

I wish I was driving an old Coup de Ville
racing the moon to the crest of the hill
top down, ‘Trane on, one lucky gal by my side,
and on past that old devil moon we would ride

Rolling up to a club, stop, park, and take five
where the band members smoke, talking their jive
fine-tuning and synchin’ their cool jazz machine
Jill straightens her stockings, black nylon seam
leads the eyes up shapely cheerleader thighs
into taffeta mystery, source of tenor sax sighs….

I wish I was in a hot club in Paree, off the Champs Elysees,
Django strumming and picking, Grapelli’s violin swirling.
le mustache a’twirling, and with grape, goatee, and beret
my charms win the arms of un jeune fille for the day…..

I wish I was in a bad-ass Spad, machine-gun drumming
along to Satchmo’s Hot Five, or his hotter-yet Seven
Scarf watching my back, whipping this way and that
seeking Junkers and Fokkers and Halberstadts.
We are soloists…

View original 108 more words

ØRSTEDPARKEN

public park in central CopenhagenDenmarkØrstedsparken is one in a series of parks which were laid out on the grounds of the old fortification ring, which was decommissioned in the 1870s. The park still retains elements from the old fortifications, a section of the moat now serves as an elongated lake and former bastions appear in the landscape as small hills. The park is named for the brothers Ørsted, the polician and jurist Anders Sandøe Ørsted, and the physicist Hans Christian Ørsted.Image

 Both men are commemorated with monuments in the park.

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Down The Road in Copenhagen

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I’M LOOKING OVER THE WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER, THAT i NEVER LOOKED OVER BEFORE…

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SHE ENTERS MY DREAM

She Enters My Dream

She sits by my side, watching me sleep
Outstretched hand brushing my cheek
Starting to stir, I feel a now
familiar warmth caressing my brow
Twixt wake and sleep, eyelids flutter
She enters my dream
like reaching through water
Ripples of her felt on my skin
Tender strokes on my brow
still feel them now
I do not want to leave that place
of peach-soft hands loving my face
Stay in the dream, feel her touch
It can only be love,
when touch matters that much

 

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