Thursday, January 16, 2014


Storm Down
—Poems and Photos by Martie Odell-Ingebretsen, Sacramento


Bring me thunder,
stake this thick air to the ground
to the ground with a sizzling sword,
dazzle with drenching this braided hair,
touch these eyes with sparklers
of sky fire,
perfume the dirt,
storm down.

Take this cloud
of white bellowing promise
and blow it over and down the pass,
furl the rabbits’ soft,
bead the dove’s feathers,
imprint the quails trail,
lay the lupin sideways
and release the scotch broom’s sweet,
the sage’s pungent,
storm down.

Dapple across this water
and crease the fabric,
let me see your thread
stitch the sky to earth,
storm down.


I talk to the mist
the steady drip that touches the leaf
I see it quiver
be bigger louder harder and enough
to make the smell of wet cement

I talk to the clouds
clutching at the light
give in to the dark
swirl with it in consort
make me a storm

The air is dense
strike it with your hammer
slap the sky into the trees
dance with these tall stalks of sunflowers
throw a torrent into the river

I am a small slug
just a trail across the dry leaves
wet them until they tear and shred
fall down on me until I am mulched
make me a storm


Torn the leaves of autumn
Falling falling no longer
Crisp with freedom flying
Unrooted and withered
Trod and gone to winter

In the room the window watch
Has closed the door to cool
And the pewter sky is waiting
In the stillness of the canopy

It is the watcher that binds color
And her light is casting no shadow
She sings across the waking storm
Her true of voice keeping her
From falling into pale

Despair is so damp
That comforting cannot robe the chill
Then in the echo of her song
She hears the first drops of rain

The sound is the opening
Where peace is found

—Martie Odell-Ingebretsen

I heard aluminum crash
against the spill of morning
and awake the desperate air
singing like lightning
it curled against time
and startled the trees

I was rain then
desperate for fire
filling the clouds until they were dark
riding the wind from the sea
listening to the spirit swift and keening
opening me

Awake now within the light
a crow is calling to another
and the trees have talking leaves
cool their fingers now release
the hold and twirl
the smoke is gone within this air

Against the spill of morning
the clouds are clouds in truth darkening
they move across the blue of sky
and in the gathering of time coming
there is a promise and a thank you


Our thanks to Martie Odell-Ingebretsen for today's poems and photos! Martie was born in Pasadena, California.  She fell in love with books at an early age and continues that love of reading.  She received her AA degree at Pasadena City College and attended the University of California at Berkeley and several California State College campuses where she majored in English Literature and Creative Writing.  She is a child-development specialist and taught young children for over thirty years.  She and her husband owned a flower shop for twenty years, where she spent many holidays delivering flowers.  Her Novella, Sweet William, was published in 2013.  She has also written  a number of short stories, and over two thousand poems, currently, and a number of them have been published.  She continues to write and finds poetry to be a way to express her deepest feelings.  She is a keen observer and finds imagery in all things, and in so doing appreciates the beauty and learns from the wisdom that surrounds her.  Martie lives in Sacramento.

Welcome to the Kitchen, Martie!



Martie Odell-Ingebretsen