A Poet of the Canvas

Egyptian Lotus From The Water Of Chaos

—Poetry and Original Artwork by Rhony Bhopla, Sacramento, CA

Brahmavihārās for Sentient Woman

On damp brown paint canvas
of brahmavihārās, Woman: flood
red-yellow-blue. Uncensored
immeasurable virtues

spatter poetic resonance, taut
ebony expressions of love.
Nothing, not-ever defined,
your loving-kindness

once dictated, naught demonstrated.
Woman: you are a poet
of the canvas, poured over⏤
yet, endure in compassionate abandon.

May your first emotions stay free.
Every minute of your body
saturated in spirit. Joy
rooted in empathy. Individuality

never, not-ever flawed.
Ever-whole Woman⏤

your body roars this poem, first
and final draft of true equanimity. 

 Kathakali (കഥകളി) of India

Slur

The day I knew I could be tough
as a boy, I clipped all my hair as close to my head

as possible, and that was the same
day a boy in my class called me

Hindu. I didn't like it. I knew he wanted
to hurt me, it sounded like stupid,

or he was saying I was vomit, or bitch.
The word, Hindu, a backhand slap

and he slapped again,
then I thrust my sharp elbow

into his belly. He fell, I
crouched over him, shoe on his chest.

Then he asked, ain’t you a Hindu? 

 Zebra Butterfly Protected From The World Rejected

Letter to an Atheist During the Pandemic of 2020

Dear Atheist
it has been
a long time since
I have written

my excuse
is the fire’s stench
an RNA virus
the counting of dead

bodies
counted
not seen

too long
you are due

now
here we are
breathing with
host cells
of our making

procedures
and machinations
by protocol:
your strengths

we just need
you to
do the job

please

get us out of this one

love
me. 

 Metta of Brahmavihārās (चत्वारि ब्रह्मविहारा)

At the fine line of the mind

there are rooms
in this country
that have no windows

where they
can
take you
when
no one
is looking

when you might
not be healthy
or conscious

just a short drive
from your neighborhood

a few steps
down from
the ground

they will close
the window-less
door

and as you
face the click
of
the
permanent
lock

you will realize

no way out
no way.

atonement

wail of conch
descent
from Gomukh

Ganga Maiya
melted body
of Vishnu

your
voluptuous
rage

destruction
halted by
Shiva

Ganga Maiya
daughter of
Brahma

his locks
holding you
in spiraling
majesty

furor
abated
now a
whisper

Ganga Maiya
daughter of
Brahma

resurrected
in the bosom of
Prithvi Mata

your countless
deaths, countless
pronouncements

forgive me
for destroying
you

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Poems are like dreams: in them you put what you don’t know you know.

—Adrienne Rich

__________________

Our thanks and welcome back to Rhony Bhopla today! Rhony, a long-time SnakePal, is a British Indo-American poet and visual artist who was first featured on Medusa’s Kitchen on May 2, 2007. Check out her artwork at www.facebook.com/108384477669371/photos/a.110291770811975/116590753515410/?type=3&theater to see which of her art pieces are available for sale; 50% of proceeds will be donated to Pacific University's Student Emergency Fund.

__________________

—Medusa

 Better to behold a single sunflower 

in the light 

than all 

the stars in darkness!

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy 

of Joseph Nolan, Sacramento

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.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!