Chasing Poems

 —Public Domain Art Courtesy of Medusa
* * *
—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), and Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Joe Nolan and Medusa

 

 

Words and words and words

race around the kitchen table,
spilling orange juice,

burning the toast,
talking so fast, my brain hurts.

As I tie my shoes,
words race out the door

and run into the street,
causing a five-car collision.

They hope I won’t catch them
and turn them into a poem.


—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

 

 

 

—Public Domain Art 

Courtesy of Joe Nolan

CHASING POEMS - REVERSE REPOUSSÉ
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Much verse I read is chastening,
rebuke, not in so many words;
between those lines of the observed
I sense absurdities of life
in understated, withered ways.

But here my term of chasing theme,
one drop of syllable incurred;
so is my scheme of chasing words,
or more the act of being chased—
which might resound as celibate?

Yet, being pressed, I think on sheets
of metal—copper, silver, gold—
or alloys—steel, bronze, pewter too,
but hammered to provide relief—
for such technique is being chased.

With simple tools, yet but without
the loss of precious metal stock;
a shape described —low, high relived,
repoussé as the French would have,
that being chased from other side.

I think as fitting in a verse,
without deposing valued words,
some mallet mould, or wallop work,
with whack and thwack or batter beat,
the pummel pound or bludgeon bash.

Who would not run from such assail,
save words, as tools within our hands,
that cannot turn tail, being chased?
But when the cudgel is laid down,
there is relief, the wrest complete.

 

 

 

Stephen is chasing poems by the sea this week

in his vacation on the lovely Isle of Anglesey, Wales

 

 

THIS PARTY LINE
—Stephen Kingsnorth

 

(in anticipation of Medusa's 20th "birthday")

My parents said, when I nineteen,
your twenty first, become a man,
for that’s the trad, maturity;
we’ll throw a bash, parade yourself,
for boy be now adult indeed.

My peers made clear for them eighteen,
their family had said the year
at which the new world recognised
that stage was reached, the age attained,
when gifts of note had been received.

That stance confirmed as twenty neared,
on dance floor, quickstep I recall,
as they conversed with other Dads
who all confirmed the worldview changed,
for no one waited, twenty-one.

So saver Dad - no spender he -
decided I had missed my cue
so duly cancelled party line
(a landline shared when I was five);
thus twenty, next, my special time -
when all can drink my health online.

Macbeth, Macduff, apostle Paul,
womb-ripped or least, untimely born -
what anniversary observed?
This twenty more than satisfied,
though blowing candles out, strange sign?

Eisteddfod, ode or rhyming slang,
that sonnet, elegy composed;
these voices heard, where none are void;
utensils of the kitchen maid
produced a cake all have enjoyed.
 

 

 

 —Public Domain Art Courtesy of Medusa

MEDICAL TERMS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

(After an MK Seed of the Week,
Message in a bottle)

Years before my wife’s death, doctors
discovered a buildup of fluid in her belly
caused by cirrhosis. They called that fluid
ascites. From time to time they would
syphon out this ascites into several bottles
for analysis, in a procedure known as
paracentesis.

On one very slow day, doctors and scientists
got together to decide that the proper
pronunciation of ascites was:
Uh-Site-eez. 

 

 

 

 An Enhanced Fajita
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

JUST AN ENHANCEMENT
—Caschwa

The Weather Services have developed
a way to measure the negative impact
a hurricane might have on what it hits,
named the Enhanced Fajita (EF) scale.
Presently the range is 1 to 6, with 6
being the theoretically highest level of
destruction, chaos, and turmoil.

Now we need our Congressional Budget
Office to step up and bring out their own
scale, aptly named the Enhanced Wealth
(EW) scale, also using the same numerical
range, with 6 representing the worst abuse
of public funds, by giving it to folks who
don’t need any financial help, while leaving
out everyone else

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

FEEDBACK AND DISTORTION
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

The common
Distorted hysteria
Of Modern Rock
Sounded out its
Static feedback
Into a common glen
From thousands of
Ages ago
Where no one knew
Such distortion
Was possible.

Its sound ran through
And across a meadow
Before it disappeared
Along the course of a brook
That ran a crooked course
Into a lake
Where trout would jump
To touch
The air
For just a moment
Before they
Returned to their broth
To continue their lives
As creatures of clear water.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

LIFE AS A FISH
—Joe Nolan

To live life as a fish
And not a man
To have only a fin
And not a hand
To breathe through gills
Instead of lungs
To give birth to thousands
Instead of one

Such is the life of a fish.
Whether one is better,
Few would make the switch.
 
Oh! To be young in the sea
Without a single boundary—
Completely free.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

THE SAUCE-MEISTER
—Joe Nolan

Two-thousand sauces
Must be mastered
Before you’re allowed
To hang the sign
That says,“Sauce-Meister"
Outside your sauce shop
That lies along a roadway
That snakes along
Through hubble-homes
Down into a hamlet
Where everyone knows
Everyone and
Also all their business.

Each hamlet-dweller
Has his favorite potion
Mixed up to flavor
This or that
Just so.

They talk about
The ones they like
And those that are
Less favored
For one reason
Or another
And so his business grows.
 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

HOW AND WHY
—Joe Nolan

She knows something you don’t know,
Like what makes
Brilliant blossoms grow
When Earth is moist in Spring.

She knows how you love her
And why
That your heart flies in different directions
Leading to indiscretions
Over which you lie.
She knows that you love her,
But not her, just alone.

She knows life is born to fly
Off into dreams
Into an azure sky.
She knows and is not betrayed.
Her little homing pigeon’s here to stay.

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

THAT’S BETTER
—Caschwa

When a poem is
way too bitter, you can chase
it with a bubbly

____________________

Our thanks to today’s contributors on this Memorial Day, 2025. Our Seed of the Week was Chasing Poems, and it looks like our poets have caught a few. Be sure to check each Tuesday for our Seed of the Week.

Speaking of memories, the countdown is on! Medusa’s Kitchen will have its 20th anniversary this coming Thursday, May 29, and we will celebrate with poetry, of course. Send a poem that celebrates something—anything—form or free verse—and I’ll post it on May 29. (20 years! Amazing!)

If you’d like to submit poetry or stories for Lit Fest 5 which is coming up June 29 in Winters, go to https://www.winterstheater.org/lit-fest/.

____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Art Courtesy of Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
will feature readers from
The Hart Center Workshop
in Sacramento tonight, 7:30pm.
For info about this and other
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.

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