—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
WRITING POETRY FROM A PRISON CELL
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
Another poor, unfortunate person
Will be put into “the pen”
To practice poetry
Pending her release.
Until then,
Please provide paper,
Upon which,
She will,
Her visions, render.
When a wrench
Fits a nut
It is Truth!
God bless the perfection of math!
The wrench and nut will
Be soul-mates forever!
You get an ecstatic jolt
When a wrench
Is a perfect fit
For a bolt!
The poor, unfortunate wench
Inside her prison cell
Will have lots of time for writing.
I hope it will
Serve us all well.
We hope her cell
Will be a good fit!
We shall surely hear much of it.
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
Another poor, unfortunate person
Will be put into “the pen”
To practice poetry
Pending her release.
Until then,
Please provide paper,
Upon which,
She will,
Her visions, render.
When a wrench
Fits a nut
It is Truth!
God bless the perfection of math!
The wrench and nut will
Be soul-mates forever!
You get an ecstatic jolt
When a wrench
Is a perfect fit
For a bolt!
The poor, unfortunate wench
Inside her prison cell
Will have lots of time for writing.
I hope it will
Serve us all well.
We hope her cell
Will be a good fit!
We shall surely hear much of it.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
SELF-QUARANTINE
—Joseph Nolan
Alone in Solitary,
He sat and sat
Until he grew fat,
Then his chemicals changed.
Because of different chemicals
His mind became deranged.
He never had done much talking
But now he was silent-strange,
As he stared off
Into the distance,
Like a monument in stone,
Completely alone.
—Joseph Nolan
Alone in Solitary,
He sat and sat
Until he grew fat,
Then his chemicals changed.
Because of different chemicals
His mind became deranged.
He never had done much talking
But now he was silent-strange,
As he stared off
Into the distance,
Like a monument in stone,
Completely alone.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
LUNACY
—Joseph Nolan
It feels good
When people puff you up,
Blow smoke up your ass
Give you lots of strokes,
Even though your know
You’re being buttered-up
For slaughter.
Con-men know this,
Know it well,
And have lots of instruments
For blowing smoke.
Flattery is so seductive!
We so need someone to
Appreciate us
In this desert of indifference
We call ordinary life.
What of it, if you have to
Put out a little ass
To get a con-man’s strokes?
To what other good use
Were you
Putting your ass, anyway?
You just hope
Not too large a slice
Will be removed
When the con-man
Claims his share.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
DRUID KNOWLEDGE
—Joseph Nolan
Moon-beam
Proteins
Just scream
When ants
Crawl under your door.
I told you this before,
The ways of wizards
Are hard to know
And harder, still, to tell!
The ways of secret
Knowledge,
Are impossible to tell
And woe befall
The vain ones,
Who offer empty shells!
You have to find conjunction
With a wizard and his ways
To let the secret knowledge
Of the Druids
Drift your way,
As though it were
A column of smoke
From a fire
Set yesterday
And only coals
Were left between
What you knew
And what you
Wanted to say.
The Way Things Go ~
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
RACE-CARS
—Joseph Nolan
Sliding to the outside,
Race-cars
Slide the curve
As though the track
Were butter,
Demanding macho nerve.
One wrong move
And it’s mayhem!
Anybody’s guess
When fire flies!
Watch the pile-up,
When drifts go sideways;
A driver needs
An eagle’s eyes!
Out in the stands,
The fans are cheering,
Wishing for the worst,
As racers dive.
Circumstance
Leaves not a chance,
To the victims
Of race-cars
Flying by!
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
THE HUNCHBACK OF THE TOWER
—Joseph Nolan
If the Hunchback
Of the tower
Resumed to ring the bell,
Over and over and over,
Like it rang from the
Fires of hell,
Unceasingly, this time,
Would you think
That it’s different, now,
The plaintiff, unending crash,
Or just that
The present
Has once again
Rhymed
With the past?
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp
PASSAGES
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA
Hold me close,
softly, tender.
Tell me of the good times
I don’t remember.
Your heart and understanding,
are always there,
in the many ways
you show how much you care.
You tell me I’m the bright spot
of your day,
stroking my hair
in your loving way.
I would, if I could, reverse
the changes in me,
break the chains that bind
and be blissfully free.
Yet here you are,
faithfully at my side,
with eyes that tell me,
I’m still your once-in-a-lifetime bride.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp
REASSURANCE
—Sue Crisp
You take me in your arms and hold me.
You make me feel as I’ve not felt before.
You whisper sweet words in my ear,
and tell me you love me once more.
I bask in the love that surrounds me
knowing your love is mine alone,
and I am shielded from heartache,
now that your love is my own.
You tell me we have a bright, shining future.
That we have years of happiness ahead.
You look at me with eyes that tell me
more than any of the words you’ve said.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
LEGAL TENDERNESS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
for all debts, public and private
pubic and very private
cubic, not so private
just hard and colorless
on the rocks
at the docks
argyle socks
chicken pox
the lunacy of privacy
normalcy you don’t see
that every day
get out of my way!
the dollar hath spoken
the economy is broken
open up the stores
open up the sores
soak up in your pores
all the virus
you can buy us
no deposit
no return
water closet
acid burn
you get the picture
I’ll get the frame
we’re a regular fixture
end of game
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
LESSON ONE
—Caschwa
little DJ put the music
too close and lost his
hearing in both ears
not to worry, he still
had great vision and
tactile sense
one day right after his
father had poured
water into the kettle
and put it on the stove
little DJ walked over
and stroked the kettle
with his bare hand
“I don’t know why people
are so touchy with this,
it is not too hot”
a bit later when the kettle
was whistling shrilly
little DJ once again
proclaimed very smugly:
“it’s not too hot, I know, I
touched it”
Saving a Wee Life, One Raspberry at a Time
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
CHROMOSOME DAY MY PRINTS
WILL COME LOOKING FOR ME
—Caschwa
when the DNA of the NRA
tries to ridicule my molecule,
recoil at both ends interrupts
the natural replication cycle
in the nucleus of my living cells
in ancient times everyone
had a rock, and no one was safe
now everyone has a gun,
a much more efficient killing machine,
and still, no one is safe
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
WHAT IT FEELS LIKE XXXIII
—Caschwa
when the War to End All Wars
against infectious diseases is
obviously well underway,
and yet none of our regular
spokespersons dares to call
it by that name
it appears we approach these
world wars armed only with
extra Roman numerals
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
MOTHERS AND FATHERS
—Joseph Nolan
A father’s days are gray.
A mother’s love
Brings pink and white
Colors
Both pure and bright.
A father slaves away
All the live-long day.
____________________
Good morning, and thanks to our contributors today for their usual Monday spectrum of poems and photos, stretching from poignancy to lunacy and everywhere in between! Lots to keep up with on Medusa Mondays!
For upcoming poetry readings and workshops available online while we stay at home, scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info—and note that more may be added at the last minute. For Sac. Poetry Center's reading schedule for the week, go to www.sacramentopoetrycenter.com/.
___________________
—Monday Medusa
Monday Mona-lot Medusa
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
