Ine Kleine Nachtmusik

Because I’m not producing ‘new’ at the present..


 

Midnight strolls in
on tall stiletto heels.
The clackety click of purpose
fracturing the silence.
And neon lights
that wink in arch complicity,
Throw feather boas
over small hours’ shoulders.

The tumbleweed of newsprint
and the urbane urban fox
perform the Dance Macabre
close to walls.
To the tempo beat of bottles
that have fallen on hard times,
playing double time Flamenco
on the cobbles.

It’s a syncopated Nocturne
with the beat before the bar,
Just a little
like the Sally Army play;
When the fallen sisters come
to meet the risen son of man.
With the same bored introspection
as the tourist.

Then the dancers that are clinging
to the space against the wall.
Who are driven
by their want for wanton partners.
Get to fumbling for the funding
in the pockets, neath their coat.
And each fallen angel
swallows hard and smiles.

 

 

© franciman 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Stormwolf

Bravo! Who needs “new” when we can read work like this?
You have captured it all. So many great lines…every one a cracker.
The whole poem is written like the author has a bird’s eye view of human nature, city life and the seediness and underbelly of street life in urban settings.
Or maybe you were up in Nairn outside the Ballerina Ballroom in the sixties? lol 😉

Alison x

Amman

Hi Jim.
This is why I love poetry (real poetry) so much. Superbly nuanced look at (as Alison commented) at the seedy underbelly of urban nightlife. Definitely one of your best. So many good lines. Love the innuendo of the last two lines. I’d post again if I could conjure up such magical images.
Cheers.

Verb

I was expecting Mozart but found a busy jostling nightlife. Reminds me on many a night out in my youth. Excellent observations.

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