Taking Up The Reins

 

Winter’s Dream

—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam, 

Sacramento, CA

—Photos by Robin Gale Odam

 

 

TAKE UP THE REINS
—Robin Gale Odam

I think the phone rang, and then
the day did what days do.

I ponder the cube of sugar, take up
the reins

___________________

OLD DREAM OF BEING ON
THE MERRY-GO-ROUND AGAIN
—Joyce Odam

I am on the old merry-go-round,
being pulled backwards this time,
until we are stopped by a wall.

Inside is the childhood that I was.
I am pounding on the wall.
A tiny voice is trying to answer

but a loud voice is telling me to
quit pounding on the wall but
I am pounding on the wall,

the loud voice is still telling me
to quit pounding the old wall.

It is the change-child. I am still
pounding on the wall and we
cannot have our answer.

 

 

 

 Waiting

DARK HISTORY
—Joyce Odam

Call it war, the going's on, the world rebelling,
taking its share of living, never mind the dying.

The world is at its own mercy, which is merciful.
The world cries to the howling winds, a breaking

of hope forgetting its lesson of life, the afterwards
of troubles—this, too—control yourself.

___________________                                                       

FRAGILE, FINE, SHIVERY
—Robin Gale Odam

I turn your note into compost.

One day a seedling will come up
with flecks of soil on fine needles.

I will watch in awe for movement
but none will come to be. I will
spill the tears over, I will till
the tiny plot—and sharpen
my pencil to reply . . . 

 

 

 

Slow Twilight

                  

GRAZING ON THORNS
—Robin Gale Odam

found him grazing on thistles
led him to water, horse wouldn’t drink

saw him searching for thistles, led him
to water, horse wouldn’t drink

found him brooding, looked into his
eyes, spoke of miracles, saw him
searching for thistles, grazing
on thorns

spoke of miracles, led him to
water, horse wouldn’t drink, found him
grazing on thorns

looked into his eyes, spoke of miracles,
listened to his heart, led him to water,
horse wouldn’t drink

found him searching for thistles,
grazing on thorns

___________________                      

GUILTY FLOWERS
—Robin Gale Odam

. . . almost sincere, adorned with
baby's tears and sprigs of dogwood
in their wrap of cellophane, from the
bucket by the register in the corner
store—not too far from the liquor
counter, now an afterthought . . .

. . . now the guilty flowers
in the kitchen—morning light
pours through the window . . .
                                            
_____________________      

VESTED
—Robin Gale Odam

I am born into the landfill of
human life on earth—an array of
secrecy, and stuff strewn about . . .

to get through this terrible event,
these end times, I sweep the alleyway
with prayers . . . 

 

 

 

Crossing the Sky

 
               
BECAUSE
—Joyce Odam

I am a child of winter, winter
at wane again, child of my
growing into the length of time.

I grow into its reasons
and holdings back from its
failures. There are reasons and
maybes and wakings into more
pity for the wanting of everything
but into the good luck of just living
against the dying I live for—and
pray for—my joy of just living
a good life, for life that is
worth its living.

We are in life going through life,
have faith, control yourself.          

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

OF JOY
—Joyce Odam

The meaning of joy is what you take
out of sorrow. It depends on
selections—of choose and lose,

refuse and accuse. A flick of
movement of a moment—or a lifetime
of lessons. But what do I know of life—

trial and value of experience will
let you know and believe that joy
is what your own life teaches.

______________________

The two Odam girls, Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam, continue to furiously wield their words despite rain and flooding and power outages, sending us this new passel of poems and photos on joy and getting back up on the horse (our recent Seeds of the Week), and we thank them for these as Joyce continues to heal from her fractured hip.

Our new Seed of the Week is “Flooded”. Flooded with what? Water? Memories? Joy? Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from. And see every Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry form challenges, including those of the Ekphrastic type.

Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.

Stay in the house tonight and Zoom the Modesto-Stanislaus Poetry Center reading with Brad Buchanan and Susan Cohen, 7pm. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.

_______________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 My Spooky
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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