—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
—Public Domain Photos
Courtesy of Nolcha Fox
—Public Domain Photos
Courtesy of Nolcha Fox
PURPLE MAJESTY
Spring decks herself in purple robes
and flowers that adorn her toes.
Distraction is her secret power
to hide her impish ways and wiles.
and flowers that adorn her toes.
Distraction is her secret power
to hide her impish ways and wiles.
WINTER’S SPRING
The clouds are scudding out of sight,
in their wake a jasmine hint.
The blinding sun warms my chill bones.
The trees sway in delight.
If not for white snow’s diamond glitter,
this could be a springtime day
and not the mid of winter.
The clouds are scudding out of sight,
in their wake a jasmine hint.
The blinding sun warms my chill bones.
The trees sway in delight.
If not for white snow’s diamond glitter,
this could be a springtime day
and not the mid of winter.
BEHIND THE TIMES
Spring landed at the airport in her private jet.
She disembarked, her gown a verdant green,
butterflies for hair clips, a coat swarming with
bunnies and bees, rose blooms for bracelets.
I didn’t know she arrived, I was too busy aging,
and defrosting my hands from yesterday’s
snow.
Death visited for coffee and croissants,
and promised to see me again one last time.
Spring floated by my window, inviting me to
dance.
I declined, as Time stole the spring from
my step.
Spring never took no for an answer.
Her warm winds blew open my basement door.
Birdsong grabbed me by the arms
and tossed me outside, to see the flowers
blooming, raspberry bushes budding.
Life stopped its loafing, and welcomed Queen
Spring.
Spring landed at the airport in her private jet.
She disembarked, her gown a verdant green,
butterflies for hair clips, a coat swarming with
bunnies and bees, rose blooms for bracelets.
I didn’t know she arrived, I was too busy aging,
and defrosting my hands from yesterday’s
snow.
Death visited for coffee and croissants,
and promised to see me again one last time.
Spring floated by my window, inviting me to
dance.
I declined, as Time stole the spring from
my step.
Spring never took no for an answer.
Her warm winds blew open my basement door.
Birdsong grabbed me by the arms
and tossed me outside, to see the flowers
blooming, raspberry bushes budding.
Life stopped its loafing, and welcomed Queen
Spring.
TANTRUM
The clouds are in a tizzy,
dizzy from the bully wind.
The sun mopes in the corner.
The clouds are in a tizzy,
dizzy from the bully wind.
The sun mopes in the corner.
She hates the clouds that block her view.
The sun and clouds blame wind
for ruining such a gorgeous day.
The wind is too impatient
to listen to them whine.
Wind stirs up a tornado
to show that she is still the queen.
FORGOTTEN AND UNSEEN
From where I sit, the tree boughs sway.
Another tantrum thrown by Spring,
a prelude to tomorrow’s rain.
A senile sun smiles rays of light,
as though this moment cannot change
to clouds and rain and frowning flowers.
Birds wing across the azure sky.
They live for now, unlike poor me.
I wonder who I love will die.
I mourn the loss of those who left
me empty, lost, and all alone.
I forget the lilac buds,
and tulips soaking in the warmth.
I only see what isn’t there.
From where I sit, the tree boughs sway.
Another tantrum thrown by Spring,
a prelude to tomorrow’s rain.
A senile sun smiles rays of light,
as though this moment cannot change
to clouds and rain and frowning flowers.
Birds wing across the azure sky.
They live for now, unlike poor me.
I wonder who I love will die.
I mourn the loss of those who left
me empty, lost, and all alone.
I forget the lilac buds,
and tulips soaking in the warmth.
I only see what isn’t there.
LATE AGAIN
You’re always late. I have to wait while you coiff and reapply cherry blossom pink to lips and cheeks. For the third time. Your pink taffeta evening gown hugs every curve as your reflection glides across the bedroom floor. Satisfied, you smile at me, a look that says we’re leaving. We arrive, the guests all stare at your spring blossom beauty. I disappear, though next to you. I wonder why I dress my best while you capture their attention.
I know tomorrow
you’ll feel awful, look run over,
while I’ll play golf with buddies.
You’re always late. I have to wait while you coiff and reapply cherry blossom pink to lips and cheeks. For the third time. Your pink taffeta evening gown hugs every curve as your reflection glides across the bedroom floor. Satisfied, you smile at me, a look that says we’re leaving. We arrive, the guests all stare at your spring blossom beauty. I disappear, though next to you. I wonder why I dress my best while you capture their attention.
I know tomorrow
you’ll feel awful, look run over,
while I’ll play golf with buddies.
WHY CAN’T YOU BE FAITHFUL?
Are you packing up again?
You could at least
say goodbye.
Are you packing up again?
You could at least
say goodbye.
You told me I
was boring you.
I can take a hint.
was boring you.
I can take a hint.
If you warmed
your lips before
we kissed…
Why stay? I hear
you plan another
Summer fling.
you plan another
Summer fling.
She’s more
simpatico
with me.
She’ll burn your
butt and melt
your love.
butt and melt
your love.
And you? I hear
you have a love
affair with Fall.
She likes a
consistent guy.
She knows I’m right behind her.
consistent guy.
She knows I’m right behind her.
You’re coming
back—you
always do.
Look who’s talking?
you can’t
stay away.
you can’t
stay away.
DON’T DO THIS WITHOUT ADULT
SUPERVISION
Chase a diarrhea dog
with carpet cleaner
and wine to calm your nerves.
Call the plumber about
a bathtub overflow.
Enjoy the on-hold music. Click.
Unplug the coffeemaker
as it shorts out because
cold coffee tastes better with grounds.
Swat at a disgruntled bee
circling the kitchen without spilling
a second drink to calm your nerves.
Close the window the bee flew through
because your downstairs neighbors are at it
again.
Where did you put that drink?
Be grateful this is a normal day,
and you’re not an alcoholic.
Yet.
SUPERVISION
Chase a diarrhea dog
with carpet cleaner
and wine to calm your nerves.
Call the plumber about
a bathtub overflow.
Enjoy the on-hold music. Click.
Unplug the coffeemaker
as it shorts out because
cold coffee tastes better with grounds.
Swat at a disgruntled bee
circling the kitchen without spilling
a second drink to calm your nerves.
Close the window the bee flew through
because your downstairs neighbors are at it
again.
Where did you put that drink?
Be grateful this is a normal day,
and you’re not an alcoholic.
Yet.
LONG PAST THE MEMORIES
I don’t think of you often anymore. But sometimes, something flits across the yard, and I remember the curls in your hair. Let me invite your shadow in for a visit. You could catch me up on your life. I wouldn’t mind, even though we both know we could be family now. Perhaps in a different universe. But let me make some tea, and warm the scones I baked this morning. Now that our hard edges are worn, a mellow tea, perhaps chamomile, would do. I haven’t forgotten how we needed each other once. Perhaps it’s best as it is, but I can only guess.
Let me pour you a cup.
My teapot is full
of stars.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
IT’S NOT WINTER ANYMORE
—Nolcha Fox
Spring refreshes herself with gentle dew,
and wraps the bejeweled sky
around her neck.
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for fine poetry about the land of ambivalent Spring, and for finding the photos to go with it!
I don’t think of you often anymore. But sometimes, something flits across the yard, and I remember the curls in your hair. Let me invite your shadow in for a visit. You could catch me up on your life. I wouldn’t mind, even though we both know we could be family now. Perhaps in a different universe. But let me make some tea, and warm the scones I baked this morning. Now that our hard edges are worn, a mellow tea, perhaps chamomile, would do. I haven’t forgotten how we needed each other once. Perhaps it’s best as it is, but I can only guess.
Let me pour you a cup.
My teapot is full
of stars.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
IT’S NOT WINTER ANYMORE
—Nolcha Fox
Spring refreshes herself with gentle dew,
and wraps the bejeweled sky
around her neck.
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for fine poetry about the land of ambivalent Spring, and for finding the photos to go with it!
—Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Medusa
For info about
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Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
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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!
future poetry happenings in
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!
