ONE PERFECT ROSE
—Dorothy Parker
A single flow'r he set me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves" it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
_______________________
Tonight:
•••Wed. (8/30), 10-midnight: Mahogany Poets presents Mics and Moods at Capitol Garage, 1500 K St., Sac. Features and Open Mic; 21 and older. $5. Info: 916-492-9336 or www.malikspeaks.com.
•••If you missed the Hallmark guys yesterday, they'll repeat their presentation twice today (8/30): at 10 AM, they'll be at Bella Bru, 5038 Fair Oaks Blvd., Carmichael, and at 6:30 PM they'll be at the Folsom Public Library, 300 Persifer St., Folsom to talk about putting their experiences putting together the verses and art for Hallmark cards. The events are free, but you need reservations: 800-565-6617. [See today's Sacramento Bee for an interview with them.]
For Women Only:
Kalliope, a journal of women’s literature and art, announces the 2006 Sue Daniel Elkind Poetry Contest: 1st Prize is $1000 and publication in Kalliope, to be awarded to a woman poet. Runners-up will receive consideration for publication. Maximum length is 50 lines. Entry fee is $5.00 per poem or 3 for $12. Deadline: 11/01/06. Send 2 copies: one with name, address, & phone number on upper right corner and one without identification. For more details on both contests, please visit www.fccj.org/kalliope or send an SASE to Kalliope, Florida Community College at Jacksonville, 11901 Beach Blvd., Jacksonville, FL 32246. Also: kalliope@fccj.edu.
________________________
SYMPTOM RECITAL
—Dorothy Parker
I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men...
I'm due to fall in love again.
_______________________
RÉSUMÉ
—Dorothy Parker
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)
