—Poetry by Joseph Nolan, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz)
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
THE MYSTERIES OF SPACE AND TIME
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
The mysteries
Of space and time,
Have never
Promised
Anything sublime,
To those caught
In their web.
Instead,
Each soul lost
In confusion,
Must tread its way
On,
Through time and space,
Abandoned by directions.
Instead,
Suggested to go
Into introspection,
To crash through
The Divine Mirror,
To see things
Much more clear
Than the shining
Of the Sun,
The brilliance
Of the stars,
Making love
In parked cars,
At the local
Drive-in
Theater.
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
The mysteries
Of space and time,
Have never
Promised
Anything sublime,
To those caught
In their web.
Instead,
Each soul lost
In confusion,
Must tread its way
On,
Through time and space,
Abandoned by directions.
Instead,
Suggested to go
Into introspection,
To crash through
The Divine Mirror,
To see things
Much more clear
Than the shining
Of the Sun,
The brilliance
Of the stars,
Making love
In parked cars,
At the local
Drive-in
Theater.
WHISPERS IN A QUIET MIND
—Joseph Nolan
Whispers in
A quiet mind
Are like riddles,
Left behind
To sort
Another day.
It lets them
Slip away
Undisturbed,
Un-inferred,
Into some smooth
Rhapsody.
Calmness has its music
That comes from
Silence bought
—Reneging—
Further chasing
Of should or
Would or ought.
SURFACING
—Joseph Nolan
By the grace of God,
Another little bubble
Rose to the surface
Of the sea
To merge with the sky.
Why, oh why,
Is there, “I,”
When, in reality,
There is only, “We"
And eternity?
Be still and know
That I am That!
—Joseph Nolan
By the grace of God,
Another little bubble
Rose to the surface
Of the sea
To merge with the sky.
Why, oh why,
Is there, “I,”
When, in reality,
There is only, “We"
And eternity?
Be still and know
That I am That!
THROUGH THE STORM
—Joseph Nolan
Each grain of sand
Has come from God,
Every calm
Before a storm
And every storm
Thereafter,
All the rain
Upon the rafters.
Though it seems
We shall all be gone,
Soon enough
Or later,
We, who’ve weathered
Many a storm,
Will get through this one,
Also,
Live or die,
Live or die,
Swept away,
Or left to lie,
Along some
Banked-up river.
—Joseph Nolan
Each grain of sand
Has come from God,
Every calm
Before a storm
And every storm
Thereafter,
All the rain
Upon the rafters.
Though it seems
We shall all be gone,
Soon enough
Or later,
We, who’ve weathered
Many a storm,
Will get through this one,
Also,
Live or die,
Live or die,
Swept away,
Or left to lie,
Along some
Banked-up river.
OH, THAT AROMA!
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
used to live near a regional park
and would stroll over daily to enjoy
the wonderful smell of the trees
I don’t know what the names of
the trees were, nor can I tell you
the defining qualities of each one
but you can ask me those same
questions about my morning coffee
and I can look on the can and see
IRONIC - II
—Caschwa
At the first house we had, we added a
security screen to our front door partly
for our own safety, and partly for the
safety of any and all strangers, whom
our cockapoo terrier, Bo, would viciously
threaten to tear into shreds
For inside the house, I got one of those
contraptions to help support my back
while doing sit-ups, and the very first
time I put it down on the hardwood floor
and positioned myself to attempt the first
sit up, a very overjoyed Bo welcomed me
to his floor by ardently licking my face
over and over
IRONIC - III
—Caschwa
we went shopping for an exercycle
and I made a big point about not
getting one with some flimsy base
that would slide all over the floor
so we got one that rested on a
container ship deck that would
surely stay in place. fine.
one sleepy morning I was walking
around the house in my stocking
feet, and collided with the exercycle,
breaking my toe in the process
doctor said they couldn’t put a cast
there, it just needed some time to
heal on its own. so I went to work
at my savings & loan teller job
wearing one regular shoe and one
open toe sandal. management
didn’t even notice for two weeks
KEEP DIGGING
—Caschwa
after checking with local authorities
digging began, away from those
tender lines carrying water and power
would digging unearth treasures?
already found little toys a few inches down
maybe more digging would find bones from pets
or hidden shafts with the mother lode
we must keep digging to open the envelope
confining that mystery of what is there
hand-tools aside, got digging devices
powered by noisy, stinky gasoline engines
two way radios to track digging status
don’t make me lunch, or wait up for me
we are getting closer, really, forever digging
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
HAPSBURGS, SWIMMING
—Joseph Nolan
Hapsburgs sound abstract,
In our strange history,
Like turtles, swimming.
______________________
Thanks to Joseph and Carl, who have carried today’s presentation admirably as we begin Christmas Week! For Carl’s first “Ironic”, go to medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/12/criminals-for-christmas.html/.
Tonight at 7:15pm, Sac. Poetry Center presents Socially Distant Verse on Zoom, featuring Max West, Diane Funston. Zoom: us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/ Password: spcsdv2020. Info: www.facebook.com/events/386363959088795/. Host: Leonard Germinara.
—Medusa
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!
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!
Eek! Xmas Week!
