A Thousand Butterflies

—Anonymous Butterfly Photos
—Poems by Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

A THOUSAND BUTTERFLIES ON YOUR SKIN

A thousand butterflies
On your skin!

Two thousand tiny feet
Fluttering wings’ wind,
Tingling!

The touch of


Tiny feet


Couldn’t be more sweet

Than the flutter
Of light fingers

Playing on your skin
Like a violin


That sings and cries!

That whispers lullabies
And hopes to win


Your tender, tender skin. 

FAVORS TO 31 FLAVORS

Silence the wicked!
Capture the sweet!

Enraptured,
All the things
That we eat!

But which might
Increase our wealth?

Which,
Promote our health,

In a world of
Vain ambition,

Where plutocrats
Tell us
What’s at
Our tables,

For our
Own ingestion?

I’d ask
A simple
Question:

What can we eat
That won’t kill us?

Make us weak
Or Ill?

Whom can we trust
When our
Government must,

Serve favors
To 31 Flavors?

BACK HOME TO INISHMORE

The sword pierced my chest,
But did not touch me.


I bled,


And bled to death.

The bullet pierced my brain
But did not there remain.


It left without good-bye
And further wandered,
Out among the cast-offs
Of the day.

They stabbed me.


I bled.


Out I flew,


Across the pillaged moor—
All the way back home,
To Inishmore. 

DEEPER LAYERS OF NEED

Diving down
Into deeper
Layers of need,

The outer layers
Worn away

By pain
By loss


By wounds
That bleed;

Dismal is


A thirsty weed
That burns


In sun


All day. 

IN A CODICIL TO MY WILL

In a codicil
To my Will


I laid a blade
Of comfort
On my grave,

Leaving something
For the needy,
Who cared for me,
When late,
I had trouble


Rising from my bed.

I, who, humble,


Bled,


From a thousand
Lifetime’s wounds,


Ex spiritus!


Carnal, needing, dread,
I, who sometimes, led,
But now, am dead! 

I’M THE JUDGE

Sit still!
Don’t fidget!
Don’t budge!

I am the Judge!

I’m prepared


To hear your case.
What you tell me
That’s true,


I’ll remember;
The rest, I erase!

I’m the judge
I’m the judge,
I’m the judge!

Don’t blister,
Don’t fidget,
Don’t budge.

Keep yourself together!
I’m tired of “falling apart”.
I just want to find


Peace in my mind:


That I have

Done the right thing.

Today’s LittleNip:

BEAUTY CONTEST
—Joseph Nolan

Turnips grow


In flowered fields


And think themselves


The same;


Flowers, on the other hand,
Think the turnips lame—
Losers in the beauty game. 

_________________________

Joseph Nolan is a practicing attorney who began publishing his work in the Fall of 2017. He has self-published three books of poems: Human Grace, Cats Can’t Use Straws and Sky Gardens, which are available on Amazon. He likes to work in rhyme and meter, writing mostly shorter poems, and his readings emphasize musicality deriving from rhyme and meter. Interests include hiking in forests and on beaches, time in nature, meditation, yoga, Jin Shin Jyutsu acupressure, chi-gong and spicy dishes at Thai and Indian restaurants.

Since last Fall, Joseph’s poems have been published in the Sacramento Voices Poetry Anthology, Poetry Now, Collisions 5 in Modesto, Medusa’s Kitchen and Joyce Odam’s Brevities Mini-Mag of Minimalist Poetry. Welcome to the Kitchen, Joseph, and don’t be a stranger!

Drop in at Soul on Broadway in Sacramento tonight for Poetry from the Soul, with a spoken word workshop from 8-9pm, and then open mic and features from 9-11pm. $10 admission; buy one, get one free at poetryfromthesoul.eventbrite.com/.  Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa

Joseph Nolan 

Celebrate poetry!—and new friends in the poet world!

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