The Whispered Truth of Our Muses

 

Cold Winter Sun

—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam, 

Sacramento, CA

—Photos by Robin Gale Odam

 

 

THINKING BEYOND SLEEP
—Joyce Odam

Waking came slow.
The outside world was forming.
The fog was beautiful in the gray sky.

I thought it was morning, how strange
a thought holding the moment
so silent and fading.

I wanted to cry, I
wanted to follow, but it was
not my time to make a confusion.

My little fog bird was
appearing again, the little
gray bird with the seeking eye, until

it recognized me and promised one more
time not to follow the long streaks
of daylight shimmering by

before I could change the sign to normal
and own my self again . . . don't let it
go away . . . I am not ready.

____________________

WAKING
—Robin Gale Odam

blinding fog, barking of dogs,
soon the cold winter sun

i used to have mercy, some-
thing happened along the way

deep night, the salt of tears,
love held tightly inside

whispered prayer, solitude
before morning

the gray dawn,
songs of geese high above

 

 

 

 The Whispered Truth

 

 

MERCY
—Robin Gale Odam

could I offer mercy for the
whispered truth of my muse,
truthteller at the waking edge of

sleep—the low reach of memory,
where I pull myself into morning
and then rise, fully awake, into

daylight, with reservation and the
preference to chronicle the peaceful
dark after sundown, the sacred

nighttime—but she has secured her
offering . . . bare branches of winter,
little birds of morning, the raucus crow

 

 

 

 My Muse

 

OH, WHAT AN OLD, OLD CHILD
—Joyce Odam

Light candles.
It is dark.
It is so large and black in my room.
Make light.
I am afraid.

Oh, what an old, old child
I have become.

                                           
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 1/13/15)

___________________

THE INNOCENCE OF LIFE
—Joyce Odam

what is the price
what is the name
the way of now

I live my name without the fame
all life is free without the blame
so much is now that I protect
"alas and wow" to all regret—
what is it that I mean to say
I never know—it goes away

trust is slow  
for those who can relate

I am alone now to myself
of my opinion mine is free
words can kill me . . .
what is trust . . .
when trust is nothing I can see

 

 

 

For The Harmony

 

 
CONJOINED
—Joyce Odam

I remember
the two
sisters
for when
time was long
and time was slow.

And
we knew
each other
from the time-ago—
and they were of each other.

And
one was
always "time
and the world"
and the other was
"quarrel, and pace the days."

___________________

WINTER HELD MY SOUL
 —Robin Gale Odam

they danced into summer,
my sweet liar
and the clever thief

 

 

 

 

A Slant of Light 

 

COG
—Joyce Odam

You start your life
With all the fire
Of optimism
And desire.

You live your life
And painfully
Find all not what it
Seemed to be.

You near the end—
What did you learn?
Perhaps you only
Had your turn.

                                     
(prev. pub. in My Stranger Hands, 1967)

 

 

 

How Many Cryings

 

MERCY
—Joyce Odam

We are waiting now for all the death,
we are waiting now for life.

We are waiting for the harmony
that is left from all our wantingness.

What was wrong with our crazy-crying,
our crying laughter from our bliss.

Though we regret a few regrets,
how many cryings did we cry from this.

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

WATERMARK
 —Robin Gale Odam

Pressed into the morning,
visible in a slant of light, trace
of your exit—crisp as parchment.
                

(prev. pub. in Brevities, May, 2016)

___________________

Gratitude to Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam this morning for poems and photos that are merciful and beyond! That was our Seed of the Week: Mercy.

Our new Seed of the Week is “Love, Regardless”, a nod to upcoming Valentine’s Day, but also to greater issues. 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.

It’s Poetry Out Loud season, and tonight at 6:30pm, Stanislaus County Poetry Out Loud competition takes place at Oakdale High School Theater, 739 W. G St., Oakdale, CA. Students have memorized 2 poems to recite. The winner goes on to the State Competition later this spring, and the winner there goes on to the National Competition in Washington DC. 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

 

 

 

 —Photo Courtesy of Public Domain







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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