—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Nolcha Fox
WAITING AND WAITING
I’m waiting for you at this bus stop.
At the corner of Life and Not Life.
I’m waiting for you to resurrect.
To step off a bus. If you don’t arrive,
I’ll wait. For the Rapture.
I know I’ll find you. When I get there.
But wear a nametag. Just in case.
I’m waiting for you at this bus stop.
At the corner of Life and Not Life.
I’m waiting for you to resurrect.
To step off a bus. If you don’t arrive,
I’ll wait. For the Rapture.
I know I’ll find you. When I get there.
But wear a nametag. Just in case.
WHEN I DIE
People will come
to my funeral
to get out of the rain,
get some free food,
and to learn
when they can
go through my stuff
to find a good deal.
(inspired by Mari Evan’s “The Rebel”,
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rebel-13/)
People will come
to my funeral
to get out of the rain,
get some free food,
and to learn
when they can
go through my stuff
to find a good deal.
(inspired by Mari Evan’s “The Rebel”,
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rebel-13/)
AUDREY ON MY MIND
Part saint, part stoic,
part princess, part starlet,
part drum corps of an off-
tune marching band,
part cheap lace,
part toe-clicker on tile floors,
you’re my bed warmer,
my first girl, my worry,
my scaredy-cat, you just
want my love, you
don’t care what I say.
You’re deaf.
You can’t hear me anyway.
WILD DRAGON BEAUTY
Safe within some inner cave,
I hoard fire and flowers,
evening winds and watercolors
painted on the clouds,
slices of the sun that danced
across the walls and floors.
When dark and gloom
embrace the day,
I breathe out in steam
and heat the treasures
I keep buried in my lair
to remind the hours
beauty hides in pools
of tears.
Safe within some inner cave,
I hoard fire and flowers,
evening winds and watercolors
painted on the clouds,
slices of the sun that danced
across the walls and floors.
When dark and gloom
embrace the day,
I breathe out in steam
and heat the treasures
I keep buried in my lair
to remind the hours
beauty hides in pools
of tears.
ABOUT MY SHADOW
My shadow lost her tennis shoes
while climbing up a tree.
I want to soothe her upset,
I want to patch her bruise,
but she unplugged the lamp
and hid beneath the table.
I can’t find her in the dark.
So now there’s only one of me
instead of two.
BATTERY
Where is the battery
that I bought yesterday?
It wasn’t in the envelope
I was about to mail.
Did I put it in the cabinet?
I opened up the ladder
and found my glasses on the shelf.
Oh, never mind, it’s time for lunch.
I took a bite out of my burger,
and found the battery.
Where is the battery
that I bought yesterday?
It wasn’t in the envelope
I was about to mail.
Did I put it in the cabinet?
I opened up the ladder
and found my glasses on the shelf.
Oh, never mind, it’s time for lunch.
I took a bite out of my burger,
and found the battery.
PRAISE BE
Praise be men
who preyed on my desire.
They told me that they loved my soul.
They loved my body, left me wasted.
Praise be maturity
that came decades too late.
I understood that love and desire
are two very different beasts.
Praise be my hormones
that retired to Florida.
I hear they’re enjoying the beaches
while I enjoy life without them.
(inspired by https://allpoetry.com/poem/8511419-Men-by-Maya-Angelou)
Praise be men
who preyed on my desire.
They told me that they loved my soul.
They loved my body, left me wasted.
Praise be maturity
that came decades too late.
I understood that love and desire
are two very different beasts.
Praise be my hormones
that retired to Florida.
I hear they’re enjoying the beaches
while I enjoy life without them.
(inspired by https://allpoetry.com/poem/8511419-Men-by-Maya-Angelou)
SMALL DELIGHTS
Shafts of sun are haloes round the leaves of plants in pots upon the shelf. Wind sings opera as it stirs the few brown leaves to dance up high in trees. Teabag steeps, releasing cinnamon into the day.
Bliss rubs her eyes
and smiles inside
a very ordinary day.
(self-published on Garden of Neuro as part of a haibun challenge)
Shafts of sun are haloes round the leaves of plants in pots upon the shelf. Wind sings opera as it stirs the few brown leaves to dance up high in trees. Teabag steeps, releasing cinnamon into the day.
Bliss rubs her eyes
and smiles inside
a very ordinary day.
(self-published on Garden of Neuro as part of a haibun challenge)
GOING SOMEWHERE
Clouds race and morph through the sky. Maybe they have somewhere to go and don’t know what to wear. They don’t notice me at all, unless I register as a little clot of boredom the wind doesn’t move, something to pass with a yawn. A hole that lets the sun blink for a second before it goes back to its coffee and croissant.
I have nowhere
to go today. The world
can go somewhere for me.
Clouds race and morph through the sky. Maybe they have somewhere to go and don’t know what to wear. They don’t notice me at all, unless I register as a little clot of boredom the wind doesn’t move, something to pass with a yawn. A hole that lets the sun blink for a second before it goes back to its coffee and croissant.
I have nowhere
to go today. The world
can go somewhere for me.
Today’s LittleNip:
While it’s better to apologize than burn bridges,
sometimes, a crackling fire
is better than words.
—Nolcha fox
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for fine poetry, and for fine photos to go with it!
While it’s better to apologize than burn bridges,
sometimes, a crackling fire
is better than words.
—Nolcha fox
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for fine poetry, and for fine photos to go with it!
Fox in a Cave
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
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Would you like to be a SnakePal?
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work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
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Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
