—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
EARLY MORNING
The wonderment
of the early morning hours,
its stillness in nature
I reveled in the quiet
attuned with the crisp chill in the air,
I pulled my collar up around my neck
and exhaled visibly
The sun crept up over the crest of the building,
its yellow-white brightness
causing me to squint slightly;
I turned toward the north
as a flock of geese flew,
seemingly overdue
in their southbound migration
toward warmer climate
The emerging sun bathed the morning
in potions of brilliance
Arcs of light caressed the sky
poems of great longing
spun their tales
in the essence of dawn
The wonderment
of the early morning hours,
its stillness in nature
I reveled in the quiet
attuned with the crisp chill in the air,
I pulled my collar up around my neck
and exhaled visibly
The sun crept up over the crest of the building,
its yellow-white brightness
causing me to squint slightly;
I turned toward the north
as a flock of geese flew,
seemingly overdue
in their southbound migration
toward warmer climate
The emerging sun bathed the morning
in potions of brilliance
Arcs of light caressed the sky
poems of great longing
spun their tales
in the essence of dawn
THROUGH TIME
Floating through time, an entity in spirit
not quite in tune with the past,
not touching the present,
glancing at the future
looking beyond pain and hurt
to see if happiness exists
I have love in my heart
a quiet glow
unbidden, ‘tis deeply hidden
the pain surrounds my heart
like a glove protecting me
from pain-filled memories
yet shielding me from living
a double-edged sword
time is essentially
an intangible place in reality,
a zone of possibilities,
of uncertainties
Floating through time, an entity in spirit
not quite in tune with the past,
not touching the present,
glancing at the future
looking beyond pain and hurt
to see if happiness exists
I have love in my heart
a quiet glow
unbidden, ‘tis deeply hidden
the pain surrounds my heart
like a glove protecting me
from pain-filled memories
yet shielding me from living
a double-edged sword
time is essentially
an intangible place in reality,
a zone of possibilities,
of uncertainties
FIRE SKY
Crimson backlit white-edged clouds
goddess peers below, between
gnarled tree branches. like my knees
knobby and painful, she sends rays
of sun to warm the ground, and me
walking slow under a canopy, her
loving arms encircle me, soothing
embrace ‘neath this fire sky, healing
warmth to old bones, her daughter
like many will age, fall to nourish her
in time, but for now her soft hands
touch me, gently forge my path.
I am a rock
beneath the surface of a cool stream,
can see the sky, a bit blurry through
flowing water, quenched, dark-rippled.
I am akin to dry cousins, sun-bleached,
dry and brittle unless kissed by droplets
of rain, falling on river’s edge, though
set apart; we were as one—long past,
recall a time when I dwelled above on
cliff overhang, cascading tiny water-
fall cast iridescent light against dull
granite wall, and then I was broken,
a bad dream, sense of descending down
slope into the stream, no one mourned
my passage, gone to memories, resting
on pebbled bed, my watery grave.
OLD TOWN HALL
Massive wall, crumbling
to pale powder—chalky white,
flakes of pink lay in slivers
on dark pavement.
This old town hall,
bricks a sun-faded russet
with loose fine dust, barely holding
between the courses—
a mortarous barrage waiting to rain down.
Once steadfast against winter storms,
breaks free under hot sun, baked dry
any last remnants of moisture.
Wall appears to slough off
a shower of forgotten fragments,
exfoliation of time, exposing
an under-layer anxious to be seen.
SLATS
Long bridge over the river
connects memory to my feet
as I travel through time.
I mark each slat of wood
name them for days I’ve lived.
Walking across a chasm
full of hope or fear,
bridge stands strong
against sway of struggle,
even through painful times
it commemorates these
slats of pain and joy.
One for the birth of a child,
another when I lost my way,
there seem to be just enough slats
to count moments, minutia
that brings me forward
to where I stand today.
Long bridge over the river
connects memory to my feet
as I travel through time.
I mark each slat of wood
name them for days I’ve lived.
Walking across a chasm
full of hope or fear,
bridge stands strong
against sway of struggle,
even through painful times
it commemorates these
slats of pain and joy.
One for the birth of a child,
another when I lost my way,
there seem to be just enough slats
to count moments, minutia
that brings me forward
to where I stand today.
PEACEMAKER
Who can be the peacemaker
Keeping us content,
Calming all our differences
With harmonious intent?
Who can solves all crises
And end the lasting struggle,
Preserving calm tranquility
Preventing future trouble?
Is there such a person
For I would come to know,
That with her mere existence
A peaceful calm would grow
People in agreement
Disputes forever waned,
Knowing that hostilities
Would not be seen again
Truly, we must wonder
If quarrels can ever end
Can we be the peacemakers
With the means to send
Our message to all people
To seek and find a way
To communicate and listen,
And find peace, day by day
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
—Jimi Hendrix
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Julie Dickson for today’s fine poetry!
Who can be the peacemaker
Keeping us content,
Calming all our differences
With harmonious intent?
Who can solves all crises
And end the lasting struggle,
Preserving calm tranquility
Preventing future trouble?
Is there such a person
For I would come to know,
That with her mere existence
A peaceful calm would grow
People in agreement
Disputes forever waned,
Knowing that hostilities
Would not be seen again
Truly, we must wonder
If quarrels can ever end
Can we be the peacemakers
With the means to send
Our message to all people
To seek and find a way
To communicate and listen,
And find peace, day by day
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
—Jimi Hendrix
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Julie Dickson for today’s fine poetry!
Peace Bridge by WilkinsonEyre, River Foyle,
Derry-Londonderry, Northern Ireland
Derry-Londonderry, Northern Ireland
For info about
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!
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!
