Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Pleiades Princess?

Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

—Taylor Graham, Placerville

It dates from the Civil War, I'm told,
ten years before my grandmother was born.
That pointed old lady—her needle-sharp
tongue always found fault with me.

But how she treasured this needle
made in Redditch, England. Pointed
on the grindstone by a man
who died young from breathing steel dust;

passed through seventy pairs of hands
before it left the factory—just one
of thirty million needles in a single week
shipped to America, to sew back

together what “bomb, ball, and bayonet”
had torn apart. My grandmother
used this needle to quilt teddies
for little boys and girls in hospital.

Now the needle's mine
to prick a finger, or a memory.
What shall I begin to mend?


Thanks to Katy Brown for the tulips from yesterday's sunny River Park in Sacramento (mine in Pollock Pines are still buried in snow), to Michael Cluff for the timely LittleNip, and to Taylor Graham for the poem about her Jekyll/Hyde-ish grandmother; our Seed of the Week is Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. Katy says:  There are times when the sun shines through tulips, especially, that they look like stained glass to me. This was such a day.

Our other poems today are more Pleiades (7 lines, 7 syllables/line, each line starting with the same letter) from Carol Louise Moon and Olga Blu Browne, along with a reminder about their open invitation to anyone interested in writing Pleiades to join a new circle forming with Olga, Carol Louise, Janet Pantoja and others, called the Moon and Stars Pleiades Circle. They'll write Pleiades and send them through the mail to each other for critique, advancing the cause of Pleiades throughout the world. E-mail Carol Louise at if you want to join. Even if you have no intention of becoming the Pleiades King or Queen of the World, Medusa's contention is that working consciously with forms improves the writing of poetry, whether it's advancing to more complex forms like the sonnet, or to free verse—which is, after all, a form of its own.


—Olga Blu Browne, Sacramento

Jealous Jerry jeopardized
Jena's journalists journey
jealous jargon justifying
juvenile jubilant jeers.
Jokingly jinx Jena's job.
Judge Joanna's jovial
jest jailed Jerry's jingle.


—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento

Martins ate mosquitoes.
Marsh wrens clung to reeds, and
Meadowlarks sat on posts
Making light melodies.
Many nights large black-billed
Magpies sang while in flight.
Mockingbird crowed more... more...


—Carol Louise Moon

Our tawny little bird,
old world avian is
out on a limb today.
Often see:  peeking face
of angel, or small child,
or demon from knotty
oval hole in a tree.


—Carol Louise Moon

Springtime bird hops and pecks
Seed scattered all around.
Sends him in directions—
Straight up town library
Steps—down again.  He finds
Several more on brick path.
Sings his happy springtime.


—Carol Louise Moon

Yellowish, with brown ribbons,
Your dainty slippers are the
Yellow flower.  A fairy,
You mid-air, invisible—
Yet tippie-toeing near my
Yard on greening stems.  I see
You're tempting me to follow.


Today's LittleNip: 

—Michael Cluff, Highland, CA

olive green sports coat
grey tie just touches his belt
pink slip on his desk.



Photo by Katy Brown