—Anonymous Photos of Ancient Cave Paintings
—Poems by Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
FLASHBACK TO EARLY MANKIND
(after Museum of Natural History visit)
Balancing on feet, they walked,
from throated growls grew words, then talked.
They sling-shot birds & speared huge beasts,
uprooted roots for long long feasts.
For warmth & light they sparked flint rocks,
kept the sun & moon for clocks.
With nimble thumbs for grasp they cut
their marks, made history open & shut.
As eras passed they birthed the plane,
improved their minds & went insane.
Sponsoring sports and ugly wars,
they learned to keep & hide the scores.
While hum of modern progress drones
from "digs" we carbon-date their bones.
COSTUMES FOR THE STAGE
Knowing sensuality begets
more sensuality
each dancer accentuates
her costume's charms.
Whirled into life, costumes
capture shadows and light
offer carousels of color.
Responding to movements
fabrics rise and fall
hills and valleys changing
interchangeable
sheen and ripples taking off
in fascinating directions.
Costumes groove with music
moods, pauses, warmth
with moves still to come
hold fragrances from elation
nuance, ambiance
openings and closures.
Speaking the intriguing
language of color and glide
stop and go, pause and resume
ebb and flow, costumes
can easily steal the show!
(first prize, Dancing Poetry Festival, 2018)
IN FOOTHILLS OF NEPAL
I wonder
what happened
to the
old woman
gathering dung
for fuel
in pure blue
shadows
of Annapurna.
TROPICAL JESUS
A young native
wearing a loin cloth
walks into pastel waters
where he flows into a robe
called evening.
A full moon
photographs his majesty.
Darkness frames the image
a young man walking
on a luminous sea.
AT CHURCH ENTRANCE
Church can wait!
We ditch decorum
pet Annie
our Sunday charmer
stroke her warm hip socket
where front leg was removed
the spot furred over.
Opening wide
Annie grins—her tongue
a pink flag of welcome.
KNOWING
(a triolet)
Unspoken words are somehow heard
when one has practiced reading eyes.
Some believe this slant absurd.
Yet words not spoken can be heard
although in silence thickly furred
especially through sad goodbyes.
Unspoken words are fully heard
when one can read familiar eyes.
IN DOCTOR'S WAITING ROOM
(for Sally)
Careful, fellow visitor,
don't step on the shadow
reflected on the room's rug
from a large crocheted mandala
hanging in bare window space
as we patiently await
our body's return to grace.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
WE WONDER
—Claire J. Baker
This web inside
our living room window
is a young spider's
first Sistine Chapel?
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Claire Baker for her fine poems this Friday morning!
For Smithsonian’s “A Journey to the Oldest Cave Paintings in the World”, see www.smithsonianmag.com/history/journey-oldest-cave-paintings-world-180957685/.
Celebrate the poetry of caveman humor!
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