—Poetry by Michael Ceraolo, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz),
Joseph Nolan, and Rhony Bhopla
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
MODERN OLYMPIAN ODE #29: (1980) Miracles Not on Ice
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid OH
The oath
for those who would officiate the various sports,
taken by one official on behalf of the rest,
was still relatively new in 1980,
so perhaps some didn't quite understand
what was meant by such concepts as
impartiality and the spirit of true sportsmanship
Or perhaps they thought such things didn't apply to them
because they hadn't personally sworn to uphold such values
Or because they thought those values were bourgeois
and so didn't need to be adhered to
And thus
fouls were called where no foul had occurred,
blatant fouls were somehow missed,
a conference was held to configure a score
so as to deny a particular athlete
the score she needed for the gold medal,
an athlete was allowed a do-over
for no legitimate reason,
and
the occurrence of the non-religious miracle
of not a single positive drug test
And in another non-religious miracle
all of these favored someone from the host country
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid OH
The oath
for those who would officiate the various sports,
taken by one official on behalf of the rest,
was still relatively new in 1980,
so perhaps some didn't quite understand
what was meant by such concepts as
impartiality and the spirit of true sportsmanship
Or perhaps they thought such things didn't apply to them
because they hadn't personally sworn to uphold such values
Or because they thought those values were bourgeois
and so didn't need to be adhered to
And thus
fouls were called where no foul had occurred,
blatant fouls were somehow missed,
a conference was held to configure a score
so as to deny a particular athlete
the score she needed for the gold medal,
an athlete was allowed a do-over
for no legitimate reason,
and
the occurrence of the non-religious miracle
of not a single positive drug test
And in another non-religious miracle
all of these favored someone from the host country
MODERN OLYMPIAN ODE #31: (2021) Family Affair
—Michael Ceraolo
They were competing in their home country
(no extra pressure there)
They were competing in a sport invented in their country
(no extra pressure there)
No brother and sister
had ever won gold medals in the same Olympics
(no extra pressure there either)
But Hifumi Abe and his sister Uta Abe
handled the extra pressure and their opponents
as well as one-hundred-twenty-five years of modern history
(not to mention millennia before that),
each winning gold in judo not only in the same year,
but on the same day only a few hours apart
—Michael Ceraolo
They were competing in their home country
(no extra pressure there)
They were competing in a sport invented in their country
(no extra pressure there)
No brother and sister
had ever won gold medals in the same Olympics
(no extra pressure there either)
But Hifumi Abe and his sister Uta Abe
handled the extra pressure and their opponents
as well as one-hundred-twenty-five years of modern history
(not to mention millennia before that),
each winning gold in judo not only in the same year,
but on the same day only a few hours apart
Kudos!
IN THE VERY BEGINNING
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
the Universe was nothing
more than the seed of a
poem, lacking refinements
gravity took hold, causing
the birth of metaphor, where
one thing orbits another
the underlying attraction
of very different things led
to more subsets and groupings
myriads of descriptive terms
meter, form, patterns, rhythm
an infinite variety of opinions
filling the senses with verse
capturing all angles of perception
unleashing strange emotions
nostrils and eyes filled with undiluted
layers of fresh-picked raw onions
spawning happy tears
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
the Universe was nothing
more than the seed of a
poem, lacking refinements
gravity took hold, causing
the birth of metaphor, where
one thing orbits another
the underlying attraction
of very different things led
to more subsets and groupings
myriads of descriptive terms
meter, form, patterns, rhythm
an infinite variety of opinions
filling the senses with verse
capturing all angles of perception
unleashing strange emotions
nostrils and eyes filled with undiluted
layers of fresh-picked raw onions
spawning happy tears
Sheep in Sheep’s Clothing
THERE SHE STOOD
—Caschwa
(response to “Fidelity” by
Joyce Odam, Medusa’s
Kitchen, August 3, 2021)
in front of that crazy, distorted
mirror at the carnival, wearing
unders teasingly advertised as
“Naughty Participants”
stretching the waistband fully
in dissent of normal, public
protocols, until her Naughty
Participants were in descent
baring the view she sees every
single day, ho hum, so what,
far less indecent than some
wolf elected to sit in the
Ovule Office of the Hen House
—Caschwa
(response to “Fidelity” by
Joyce Odam, Medusa’s
Kitchen, August 3, 2021)
in front of that crazy, distorted
mirror at the carnival, wearing
unders teasingly advertised as
“Naughty Participants”
stretching the waistband fully
in dissent of normal, public
protocols, until her Naughty
Participants were in descent
baring the view she sees every
single day, ho hum, so what,
far less indecent than some
wolf elected to sit in the
Ovule Office of the Hen House
NOW HEAR THIS
—Caschwa
compute the hypotenuse
of the square root of the
perimeter of a polygon
comprised of more alpha-
numeric variables than
you can shake a stick at
saving money is easy,
just give it all to me and
I will count it for you, invest
it for you, and spend it for
you. don’t try to hide those
pillows, I know money
the most highly accredited
scientists play second fiddle
to common dogs, as the latter
can easily “read the label”
about poisonous matter without
looking it up in reference books
she sells sea shells down by the seashore
what kind of noise annoys an oyster
black baby buggy bumpers
you were right
I’m sorry
my bad
—Caschwa
compute the hypotenuse
of the square root of the
perimeter of a polygon
comprised of more alpha-
numeric variables than
you can shake a stick at
saving money is easy,
just give it all to me and
I will count it for you, invest
it for you, and spend it for
you. don’t try to hide those
pillows, I know money
the most highly accredited
scientists play second fiddle
to common dogs, as the latter
can easily “read the label”
about poisonous matter without
looking it up in reference books
she sells sea shells down by the seashore
what kind of noise annoys an oyster
black baby buggy bumpers
you were right
I’m sorry
my bad
JUNGLE DREAMS
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
What things may fill the dreams of jungles?
Simple, quiet, open spaces
With big skies,
No canopies,
Less shady,
Less humid,
Less damp,
Less a-crawl
With such wild things
That one cannot feign sleep?
Jungles tend to dream
Of things they’re not
Nor ever would be,
When nocturnal things
Hunt silently,
Making all the jungle-critters
Full of night-time jitters,
Dreaming just of dawn
To see to get away,
From gnawing things
That keep deep sleep
At bay.
Dark, within
Jungles’ nights,
Panthers hunt from
Tree limbs, stealthily,
To pounce on the unwary
And eat their fill.
Such vampires
Thirst for blood
In jungle dreams.
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
What things may fill the dreams of jungles?
Simple, quiet, open spaces
With big skies,
No canopies,
Less shady,
Less humid,
Less damp,
Less a-crawl
With such wild things
That one cannot feign sleep?
Jungles tend to dream
Of things they’re not
Nor ever would be,
When nocturnal things
Hunt silently,
Making all the jungle-critters
Full of night-time jitters,
Dreaming just of dawn
To see to get away,
From gnawing things
That keep deep sleep
At bay.
Dark, within
Jungles’ nights,
Panthers hunt from
Tree limbs, stealthily,
To pounce on the unwary
And eat their fill.
Such vampires
Thirst for blood
In jungle dreams.
GETTING ALONG WITH SANTA CLAUS
—Joseph Nolan
Most people think it would be easy
To get along with Santa Claus.
It seems like he would be
A lot like
A wish-fulfilling tree.
You could make out a list
And check it twice,
But you can never be
Caught being naughty.
Instead, you must always be nice.
He thinks his deal
Is fair, you see,
Whatever you want
Shows under your tree
When giving-time is here,
But there’s something
He asks in return,
As a point of respect,
You have to be
As he wants you to be
Or he will reject
And
Withhold all his offerings.
It really is overbearing
Since he claims to be omniscient,
So there must be no way to hide,
Any little naughty,
You might treat yourself
On the side.
Freedom knows no master.
Co-dependency’s a disaster.
You can’t have it all
If you’ve sold your soul
To being “nice” all the time,
Like colorless alabaster.
—Joseph Nolan
Most people think it would be easy
To get along with Santa Claus.
It seems like he would be
A lot like
A wish-fulfilling tree.
You could make out a list
And check it twice,
But you can never be
Caught being naughty.
Instead, you must always be nice.
He thinks his deal
Is fair, you see,
Whatever you want
Shows under your tree
When giving-time is here,
But there’s something
He asks in return,
As a point of respect,
You have to be
As he wants you to be
Or he will reject
And
Withhold all his offerings.
It really is overbearing
Since he claims to be omniscient,
So there must be no way to hide,
Any little naughty,
You might treat yourself
On the side.
Freedom knows no master.
Co-dependency’s a disaster.
You can’t have it all
If you’ve sold your soul
To being “nice” all the time,
Like colorless alabaster.
BEAUTY’S TOUCH
—Joseph Nolan
Stunned by the flowing beauty
Heard in a diva’s trill,
Something so exciting
Enraptured his heart with thrill!
Made him know
How love and light
Are captured in beauty
By artists,
Nourishing us all.
It’s so hard to say
How it means so much,
How your hair stands on end
How you’re carried away,
But such is the way
Of Beauty’s touch.
—Joseph Nolan
Stunned by the flowing beauty
Heard in a diva’s trill,
Something so exciting
Enraptured his heart with thrill!
Made him know
How love and light
Are captured in beauty
By artists,
Nourishing us all.
It’s so hard to say
How it means so much,
How your hair stands on end
How you’re carried away,
But such is the way
Of Beauty’s touch.
FAILURE IS NOT FOREVER
—Joseph Nolan
The fact that we have failed
Is not to say
We couldn’t happen, again.
There are many things
That got in our way,
But that is not to say,
There couldn’t be a time
They wouldn’t,
Again.
I hold your hand,
Still in dreams,
And we smile, again,
Into each other’s smiles,
And laugh about the miles
In between us.
Love demands
Some element of trust,
Something, unbetrayed,
But as far as for us,
Our time was not enough
To find our way to play,
With each other.
Today’s LittleNip:
WHEN YOU ARE TOLD TO GET OUT, PLEASE LEAVE
⏤Cal Fire
Conditions continually change, embers
cause havoc in lives. Layers, ravaged.
I am a spectator of searing destruction
watching a man who hopes to come back
to a standing house. Imagine him taking a picture
of the hard gray pillars surrounded by mounds
of ash and metal. A misshapen bumper, glimmers
within misery.
—Rhony Bhopla, Sacramento, CA
_____________________
Smoky thanks to today’s contributors, as the wildfires’ smoke has taken over our skies —and our eyes and pretty much everything else (though slightly clearing today). Even my dog is coughing. But we send our sympathies and thoughts to those who are suffering and losing much more than we are, and our thanks to the responders who are saving what they can.
This coming Wed. (8/11), 5:30pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance presents JoAnn Anglin and Jennifer Pickering at Wild Sisters Book Company, 3960 60th St., Sac. Info: www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10158545657407933&set=p.10158545657407933/.
______________________
—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!
