Wendell Eugene: A Night to Remember
Rain drops drizzled
from the night sky,
café lights twinkled
in dream-lit New Orleans
you strode gracefully–
ninety and one years of life
trailing grandly behind
your trombone
dazzling on the stage,
you raised a toast to
the joy of living
among fans and friends
I watched you tune
your gleaming instrument,
lifting it to your lips
with the ease
of one who knows
an old Fidus Achates–
as one who has carried
ecstasy and heartache
through time’s mist
and glory
my eyes
transfixed upon
shimmering brass
as you played
wondrously
you turned to the applause,
our eyes met, you smiled
awed by your presence,
charmed by the smile
of a music man
who brought jazz to life
every night
for me, it was a first time,
and perhaps the last
at that fine restaurant.
©Neetu Malik
In honor and memory of Wendell Eugene (1923-2017), the longest-performing jazz musician/trombonist of New Orleans.
Snow Angel
I shaped you in the snow
the last time it descended
from the misty sky above
gentle flakes fluttered
settled thickly upon barren earth—
forming soft cloud comfort
I carved a dream
with my happy soul, smiling,
my eyes searched the universe
there were no stars that night–
just a crystalline radiance, in which
I molded the dream.
© Neetu Malik
Between the Lines
a comma, a pause—
maybe even a full stop
heaves its way
between the lines
silence lingers to make
a statement, take
a breath, wait
between the lines
no words to complete
just spaces that speak
oceans that flow
between the lines
© Neetu Malik
Endurance
a feeble flame
does not illuminate
my path on this
dark night
I must stop
until day breaks
and shows me the road
that lies ahead
if there be one
in such dolorous times
© Neetu Malik
Passing by
dusk casts its veil gently
as I walk along
this quiet street
under winged elms shedding
flaky white blossoms
at my feet
the hour is my own
no one here to nettle my peace
other walkers, far and few,
wave or smile occasionally
people come and people leave
I have learned to let them be
for on these intersecting trails
we’re passersby, you and I
© Neetu Malik
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