Thursday, April 10, 2014

Happiness Is...

—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis


checking out the interior of the metal
awning outside my bedroom window
a few weeks ago.  My dog Barkley and I
were hoping they’d stay, but they moved
on.  Besides the stunning visual of their
raspberry heads and chests and rumps,
their birdsong fascinated us. This lead me
to wonder…

Do birds speak in iambs and trochees?  Do
they know the easy craft of onomatopoeia
with their chirps and caws and kee-kee-kees?
—the renga of five lines answered back by
the next avian poet, and the next, until
the whole neighborhood is one big rap
session?  We could take a lesson from these
boisterous bards who trill on, rather Gloria
Patria…  warbling simply for the sake of
free expression.

—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento

(first pub. in Poetry Now, May 2012
under the pen name, "The Lunar Lyric")


—Carol Louise Moon

Intent on gleaning secrets I could see
my own reflection, instead of the
marine life in this tide pool, its surface
intoning, pulsating—insisting on its
own rhythm.  It insinuates my face
between its depth and my inquisitive
mind.  In this instant, I realize I must look
beyond surfaces, incessant distractions.
I plunge my face into the pool, invasive
in my efforts to discover its unique
interpretation, its immense treasure—
its soul.

(first pub. in Poetry Now, June 2012
under the pen name, "The Lunar Lyric")


—Ann Privateer, Davis

last night I slept with a spider
all night long, we fought to see
who would control the bed

sheets and blankets slung off
then on to dangle precariously
we two trying to sleep

each in our own little web
strangers at first but later
no worse one from the other

both cursed to acquire rest
one with eyes open, the other
unable to mesh with eight legs.

  —Photo by Ann Privateer, Davis

—Caschwa, Sacramento

The meek man stood
At the lectern hoping to
Assimilate the thunder
Of discovery, as if perched

High in a crow’s nest
About to shout his greater
Vision to an eager audience
Diva center stage

His shrill voice more explosive
Than a firecracker, like putting
A bullhorn to a ditch digger
It is now time to speak

He summons his courage
Readier than ready ever is
And reaches for his tongue
Which is hopelessly tied


—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove

Dude never had much time for me
In high school, but I had room
In college, and he’d stay at
My place.  Toilet paper and
Charm exhausted, he’d
Move on to another friend.

Nobody really liked him, most
Thought he was a narc.  And
Everybody thought he was
Somebody else’s friend.

Years later, Donnie, where
He’d stayed last,
Spread the papers out
On the bar: letters from
Bobby, from Chavez,
From McCarthy, from
Recommending him.
And at the bottom,
Soaking up beerspill
Was the acceptance to
Harvard Law.

We looked, shook
Our heads.  Bartender
Smiled, wadded it all and
Put it in the trash bin.
He knew, we all knew,
The guy
Was an asshole anyway.


Today's LittleNip:

There once was a dachshund, so long
He hadn't any notion
How long it took to notify
His tail of his emotion;
And so it happened, while his eyes
Were filled with woe and sadness,
His little tail went wagging on
Because of previous gladness.



—Medusa, with thanks to today's contributors, including Debbie Guerrette, who some of you may remember from her time in Sacramento poetry workshops before she moved back East. She sent us the LittleNip, saying "Happiness is a warm poem". 

Also: two more poetry events in our area today: Brian Blanchfield will be reading at UC Davis today from 4-6pm at Voorhies 126, A and 1st Sts., Davis. And ElectroPoetic Coffee will be featured tonight at Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac., 8pm, hosted by Goeffrey Neill.

Mallards at Sierra Arden Church Food Bank Garden
—Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento