Old Dog, Old Tricks
—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock
AROMA OF HER CLOSET
—Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch, CA
Her powder box chimed “Golden Slippers”
His Bay Rum insinuated itself
Frowns when I banged up the stairs
Smiles when I played piano in church
Carnival glass chicken full of horehound
Punch bowl full of Chiller Diller
Fireworks in the front yard
Desert snow on Christmas morning
Looking out the back window of the car as we drove away
Gammy waved from the balcony
After Papa died
______________________
SOMETHING ABOUT A FOX AND A TRAIN
—Robert Lee Haycock
Backyards full of broken
Paused in our headlonging
Toward agreement
Fox and I
Eye to eye
What are you doing here?
I am living. hay
What are you doing?
He’d like to know.
_____________________
OF VUILLARD AND OTHER THINGS
—Robert Lee Haycock
How many times I sit here
Figures populate the same linen plane
Refusing to touch they broadcast
A green ground
Shimmers of simplicity
While in the next room come
To melt a cone or two
Bisque the most beautiful things I’ll never make
Hollow spheres of wet hurtled mud deleted
By custodians in a fit of critique
Through this door is an open casket
A smiling once upon a man
Gammy and Papa crying more
Flowers than I’ve ever smelled and
Ice cream on the streets of memory
Word Key:
inam: gift; a common name for a child
guru: a spiritual teacher
OCTOBER LIGHT: A FEW HAIKU FROM
FAIR OAKS VILLAGE, CA
—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA
It is the color
Of rust—at last, seen, at last
Appreciated.
*
Golden Retriever’s
Coat, all the more vibrant in
The early dawn light.
*
Jack the Yellow Lab
Never had a bath, but he’s
Bright, grinning. . .fall sunlight.
*
Brandy, my Irish
Setter, never so stunning. . .
October sunset.
*
The yard cats, mostly
Black longhairs. . .summer tangles
Gone by the first frost.
*
Down by the river,
Wintering Mallards start
To fret. . .They’ll bring bread?
*
Out on the trail, the
Coyote sniffs. . .Knows that change
Is in his favor.
*
A time when change is
In the air, and when rust
Is a color that rules.
Rugged mountains gentle into meadow flowers,
RITES OF FALL
—Taylor Graham
The hill-house in San Francisco is old
San Francisco radio news: Weather today is
Our thanks for today’s hot breakfast of poetry and pix, and a reminder to check out the green box at the right of this for workshops (a couple of new ones), submissions opportunities and poetry contests (lots of new ones), a wonderful website to enjoy on Webilicious, and a reminder that today is Sacramento Poetry Day!
Then scroll farther down to the blue box under the green box and take note of what’s upcoming in NorCal poetry for this week and beyond, including a new reading series for Seniors, hosted by those lovely Straight Out Scribes on Halloween!
—Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch, CA
Her powder box chimed “Golden Slippers”
His Bay Rum insinuated itself
Frowns when I banged up the stairs
Smiles when I played piano in church
Carnival glass chicken full of horehound
Punch bowl full of Chiller Diller
Fireworks in the front yard
Desert snow on Christmas morning
Looking out the back window of the car as we drove away
Gammy waved from the balcony
After Papa died
______________________
SOMETHING ABOUT A FOX AND A TRAIN
—Robert Lee Haycock
Backyards full of broken
Paused in our headlonging
Toward agreement
Fox and I
Eye to eye
What are you doing here?
I am living. hay
What are you doing?
He’d like to know.
_____________________
OF VUILLARD AND OTHER THINGS
—Robert Lee Haycock
How many times I sit here
Figures populate the same linen plane
Refusing to touch they broadcast
A green ground
Shimmers of simplicity
While in the next room come
To melt a cone or two
Bisque the most beautiful things I’ll never make
Hollow spheres of wet hurtled mud deleted
By custodians in a fit of critique
Through this door is an open casket
A smiling once upon a man
Gammy and Papa crying more
Flowers than I’ve ever smelled and
Ice cream on the streets of memory
—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock
WHAT HAVE WE DONE TO DESERVE THIS INAM?
—Rhony Bhopla, Sacramento
Strung cobweb wires against paint-stripped building
walls, least wanted, fixed with tape stretched, broken.
Passing adverts claim a phone call costs
Rupees. Gandhi remains folded in
a passerby’s pocket. Both unaware
of the growing entanglement of lights. Dangling
bulb bursts, daylight sun showers, nothing is
on fire—yet. Haphazard wraps around, under
other wires. Sometimes, they hang from trees,
tortured by auspicious chants. Under Punjab’s
clustered canopy, a future guru sits,
eyes closed, pierced tongue reverberates:
The tree gesticulates with long,
inelastic branches. At tip, knobby
fingers point at the ominous
future of our electric snarl.
A perfect table squats at shop entry, covered
by an unraveled, sheer turban, tied
to the knees of its legs. Underneath, brown
legs zigzag in dirt. Boy’s eyes closed, unstirred.
—Rhony Bhopla, Sacramento
Strung cobweb wires against paint-stripped building
walls, least wanted, fixed with tape stretched, broken.
Passing adverts claim a phone call costs
Rupees. Gandhi remains folded in
a passerby’s pocket. Both unaware
of the growing entanglement of lights. Dangling
bulb bursts, daylight sun showers, nothing is
on fire—yet. Haphazard wraps around, under
other wires. Sometimes, they hang from trees,
tortured by auspicious chants. Under Punjab’s
clustered canopy, a future guru sits,
eyes closed, pierced tongue reverberates:
The tree gesticulates with long,
inelastic branches. At tip, knobby
fingers point at the ominous
future of our electric snarl.
A perfect table squats at shop entry, covered
by an unraveled, sheer turban, tied
to the knees of its legs. Underneath, brown
legs zigzag in dirt. Boy’s eyes closed, unstirred.
Word Key:
inam: gift; a common name for a child
guru: a spiritual teacher
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
FAIR OAKS VILLAGE, CA
—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA
It is the color
Of rust—at last, seen, at last
Appreciated.
*
Golden Retriever’s
Coat, all the more vibrant in
The early dawn light.
*
Jack the Yellow Lab
Never had a bath, but he’s
Bright, grinning. . .fall sunlight.
*
Brandy, my Irish
Setter, never so stunning. . .
October sunset.
*
The yard cats, mostly
Black longhairs. . .summer tangles
Gone by the first frost.
*
Down by the river,
Wintering Mallards start
To fret. . .They’ll bring bread?
*
Out on the trail, the
Coyote sniffs. . .Knows that change
Is in his favor.
*
A time when change is
In the air, and when rust
Is a color that rules.
—Photo by Katy Brown
DREAMSCAPE
—Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
Rugged mountains gentle into meadow flowers,
birdsong, and a river in meandering flow reflects
sky. Clouds against horizon. Sun arc’d through
its daily motion rising setting in postcard colors.
All night I tried this road and that, I stared at the
dream-image but earth kept spinning under its
heaven and I kept walling-out at dead-ends and
cul-de-sacs, battering at the door of each house
individually wrapped in mosquito-netting or
gifting-cellophane with the attendant principle
of keeping something in/something out. Gray
figures bent as in longing, watching the most
beautiful landscape on their screens.
ice on the bucket—
above willows at first frost
the trail goes trekking
________________________
RITES OF FALL
—Taylor Graham
Winter’s coming. We practice for long sleep,
you napping the hours, I with my books:
one poet found his dying father deep
in dream; another wonders how death looks.
My pup roisters with a bone;
flips cartwheels, crackerjacks the prize
from leaf-fall piles,
barks me come outside.
And see, the tree of heaven bright with fall.
A weed, they say; nerves of green all thru drought.
What do we know of heaven? Slanting light.
Winter’s coming, we practice for long sleep.
—Photo by Katy Brown
THE HILL-HOUSE
—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento
The house in San Francisco sits on a hill. It
—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento
The house in San Francisco sits on a hill. It
smells of old electricity and newsprint. From
the chandelier hangs a ceramic pig in the
middle of a quaint room. A window lets in
light and opens to an opposite hillside view.
The hill-house in San Francisco is old
electricity and natural light. Both chandelier
and sun contribute to a nostalgic ambiance,
as does the breakfast nook. Outside, sparrows
twitter as the ceramic flying pig spins from a
crystal chandelier in the antique sitting room.
Newsprint tells of an earthquake disaster, its
date obscured by a hawk feather bookmark.
San Francisco radio news: Weather today is
sunny with cool breezes… The opposing
hillside sports two redwoods, one Coastal
and the other Sierra. Patio birds chat their
own brand of news, as radio speaks of
seismic activity off the Pacific coast. A fly
lands on the rump of the ceramic pig
dangling from the dusty sitting room
chandelier.
________________________
WHEN PIGS FLY
—Carol Louise Moon
There is a fly in the house in San Francisco
which flies near the chandelier.
The ceiling is painted light blue
to match the sky.
The fly alights on the rump of a flying pig
which dangles from the chandelier.
I wonder why, and I wonder when.
The crisp ocean breeze that blows
through the house on the bay
whispers in reply:
When pigs fly, flies do too.
WHEN PIGS FLY
—Carol Louise Moon
There is a fly in the house in San Francisco
which flies near the chandelier.
The ceiling is painted light blue
to match the sky.
The fly alights on the rump of a flying pig
which dangles from the chandelier.
I wonder why, and I wonder when.
The crisp ocean breeze that blows
through the house on the bay
whispers in reply:
When pigs fly, flies do too.
—Photo by Katy Brown
Our thanks for today’s hot breakfast of poetry and pix, and a reminder to check out the green box at the right of this for workshops (a couple of new ones), submissions opportunities and poetry contests (lots of new ones), a wonderful website to enjoy on Webilicious, and a reminder that today is Sacramento Poetry Day!
Then scroll farther down to the blue box under the green box and take note of what’s upcoming in NorCal poetry for this week and beyond, including a new reading series for Seniors, hosted by those lovely Straight Out Scribes on Halloween!
_______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
PIG’S REPUTATION SAVED
—Carol Louise Moon
“Do not cast your pearls before swine
whereby they will be trampled under foot…”
—THE BIBLE
Patty’s pearls meant the world to Patty.
But one day Patty threw the pearl necklace
down at the feet of a pig. The pig looked
at the pearls, then looked at Patty and
walked away. Patty’s pearls lay broken
and scattered on the ground—a lesson
for Patty, which failed her miserably.
PIG’S REPUTATION SAVED
—Carol Louise Moon
“Do not cast your pearls before swine
whereby they will be trampled under foot…”
—THE BIBLE
Patty’s pearls meant the world to Patty.
But one day Patty threw the pearl necklace
down at the feet of a pig. The pig looked
at the pearls, then looked at Patty and
walked away. Patty’s pearls lay broken
and scattered on the ground—a lesson
for Patty, which failed her miserably.
_______________________
—Medusa
—Medusa
—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock
