MODERN OLYMPIAN ODE #57: (2006, 2010, 2014, 2018, 2022)
First to Five
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Five Games, the first as a teenager,
on three different continents:
Gold, Bronze
Gold
Gold, Silver, Silver, Silver,
plus Gold in a team event
Gold, Silver
And Gold,
legs driving the skates across the ice,
both arms swinging,
one arm swinging,
or hands clasped behind her back,
each taking place at various times
during her three-and-three-quarter laps
on the long-track oval,
as she, Ireen Wust,
became the first modern athlete
to win an individual gold medal
in five consecutive Olympics
WRATH
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
This surely must be of the gods,
Norse or pagan wielding axe,
or of classical pantheon,
vengeance wrought for Babel towers,
divination of our worst.
It matches always with incurred,
myth deployed so to explain
why our conscience leads on to shame,
syndrome of imposter fame,
human need for judgement’s pain.
Why this maelstrom of Nordic swirl,
beating breasts in rubric named,
the blood of infants, Aztec frame,
holds such grip on race through time,
battleground for unexplained?
In golden rule, requited love,
dispensation, grace at work,
it’s here I find the spirit blooms,
human, nature at its best,
community through one changed, blessed.
But if your life would opt for wrath,
is that reason, how were taught,
or angry that the world unjust,
needs to be seen, bite the dust?
Stress is less in power of love.
HOW MANY?
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
how many times
will the wrath of a bath
bring on the drama
of dreaded colic?
how many ways
will the wrath of new math
freeze busy fingers
on a slide rule?
how many snakes
on the wrath of a path
will it take till hikers
finally read the posted
warnings?
how many years
will the wrath of what hath
begun in error be
considered normal?
FEELS LIKE SPRING
—Caschwa
once beautiful plants trying
their best to blossom again
freight trains on adjacent tracks
emit recognizable vibrations in the
air and through the ground, while
heading in opposite directions
the chirping and chattering of
squirrels and birds as they revisit
their pecan stashes in raised
beds, leaving craters in the soil
neighbors trim their lawns and
set up barbeques and smokers
all kinds of bugs populate the
landscape, carrying out the bold
daily regimens given to them by
Mother Nature
today’s harvest of mail includes
a rebirth of tax records, along
with the usual collection of ads
purporting to help us make our
final arrangements
I LIKE FOG
—Caschwa
along with other labor-saving
devices, it just rolls in and
requires no fuel, no tires, no
tune ups, nothing
it defines its own parking spots
by just staying there as long as
it cares to, and leaving on a whim,
doesn’t need any special signs
posted to reserve a space
sometimes as dense as a shower
curtain, or as sheer as a naughty
negligee, it just sits there ignoring
subpoenas to come and testify
and daring anyone to complain
it might, by chance visit a nude
beach and join the argument that
clothing is quite irrelevant, anyway
HOW DOES THE SKY STAY UP?
—Caschwa
(pondering the question posed by
poet, Ann Wehrman and photographer,
Chris Feldman, Medusa’s Kitchen,
February 12, 2022)
suspected there might be a constellation
called “Suspenders” but to date no such
grouping of stars has been found or
named, but how about
Pictor, The Painter’s Easel?
if just one of the 88 constellations could
hold up the entire sky, this would have to
be it!
A FEW CHANGES ALONG THE WAY
—Caschwa
we have tested the
experiment many times
and we’re not through yet
Am. II (1791) – get out your gun
Am. XIII (1865) – free the slaves
Am. XV (1870 – freed slaves can vote
Am. XVI (1913) – income tax
Am. XVIII (1919) – Prohibition
Am. XIX (1920) – women can vote
Am. XXI (1933) – repeal of Prohibition
Am. XXIV (1964) – voids poll tax to vote
Am. XXVI (1971) – lowers voting age to 18
though Prohibition
came and went, Reconstruction
didn’t make the list
TIMELESS BEING
—Caschwa
the mail I receive and the
looks I get from my wife
tell me I am an old man
the mirror in the bathroom
tells me get out of the way,
someone else is waiting
my nose itches and eyes
blink uncontrollably all day
long, allergies maybe, or am
I still the same little squirt
with undisciplined reflexes?
I just go along, moment to
moment believing that every
person I see is a unique
package of infantile and
senior traits, thrown onto
a path of uncharted confusion
I can live with that,
not worry what it looks like
doesn’t bother me
ICICLES
—Joe Nolan
Ah, yes,
Dripping, dripping,
In the warmth of advancing Spring,
We icicles that cling to the edges of roofs
Know our time is near
To convert into puddles,
Mix with slush
And listen to the sounds of
Children laughing,
Not bundled-up
So much.
We surely are a pair—
Hanging side by side,
Releasing all our Winter tears
Slowly, one by one,
Dissolving in the sun,
Soon done, soon done!
A STORM WITHOUT WARNING
—Joe Nolan
Hello!
Is it real?
What you think,
What you feel?
In the womb
When incubescent,
Adolescent-effervescent,
Retiree,
Days in gloom?
Is there any room
To string these things
Together,
Into some consistent story
Of identity
Or weather?
From whence comes a storm,
Without warning?
THE IMAGINARY AND THE REAL
—Joe Nolan
The imaginary
And the real,
Are bled
And bred
Together,
Riding spokes
Along a wheel,
From the inside
To the outside,
In blurry whirs
Of constant motion,
Drawing out
The pressure
From the mainspring
Of human suffering.
Today’s LittleNip:
DRINKING SONG
—Caschwa
a hundred paid-off congressmen in the hall
a hundred bought and paid for
take one down and pass him around
look! there are one hundred again
like with a trail of ants…
________________________
Here we are at Valentine’s Day already, plus Presidents’ Day—January has slipped past us already! Today Michael Ceraolo writes about the Olympics (though long ago); Stephen Kingsnorth writes about our current Seed of the Week: Wrath. (Tune in tomorrow for a new SOW!). Carl Schwartz sends what I call a “wrath rap”, and a reply to last Saturday’s poem by Ann Wehrman (“How Does the Sky Stay Up?“). By the way, a few changes have been made to last Saturday's post, with my apologies to Ann and Chris. And Joe Nolan sends his fine poems, and fine photos which he has found for us on public domain (ants on stilts?).
•••Tonight (2/14), 7:30pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Jenny Davison and Sho’Nuff for its Valentine celebration. Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. (Meeting ID: 763 873 3462 / pass: r3trnofsdv/.) Info: www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/.
•••This Thur. (2/17), 7pm, Poetry Night in Davis will feature Joe Wenderoth at the John Natsoulas Gallery, 521 1st St., Davis, CA. Host: Dr. Andy Jones.
•••Sat. (2/19), 6-7:30pm: Placerville’s Poetry Art Walk celebrates Hearts and Flowers Month with an open mic themed “Kissing the Bee”. TooGood Cellars, 304 Main St., Placerville. Host: Lara Gularte.
____________________
—Medusa
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