—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Medusa
AT TIPPING POINT CAFÉ
Placerville
We sip
hardy
coffee
our
cold
hands
cradling
blue mugfuls
an intimate café
white lacy curtains
clean round maple tables
relaxation, a warm uplifting of
elder love freshened, transcendent.
We sip
hardy
coffee
our
cold
hands
cradling
blue mugfuls
an intimate café
white lacy curtains
clean round maple tables
relaxation, a warm uplifting of
elder love freshened, transcendent.
AT CLARA’S KITCHEN TABLE
from the ‘60s
Restless, my bestie and I
draw on paper napkins
a picture of our souls.
Clara draws a boomerang
beside a cloud, like her soul
is flying through space.
Mine is a lopsided circle.
It looked and felt like my soul.
Clara asked: Is there
anything inside? I sketched
little dots that formed a labyrinth
of triumphs, partings, reunions.
We were excited campers!
Then Rod, her chemist husband
strolled in for coffee.
We asked if he would join
and sketch his soul. He simply
replied, he’d never seen it.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 10/9/21; 8/14/24)
DOUBLE HELIX
Within the spirals of life’s rousing ride
we carry DNA and spirit prints,
plus drama, foibles, freedoms and talents
through every primal and transcendent surge.
Attempting to master loop-the-loops, we lean
to milder turns, to fewer jarring dips—
delighted when we pause and compromise,
cast sun on polar views and clear the fog,
shine up some stellar acts reflecting love.
When joy bear-hugs and we hug snugly back,
we sip the tasty tea of miracles,
believe that we will thrive on earth forever . . .
Yet, somewhere on the journey, planets which
had circled, marked our birthplace, tumble free:
the helix starts to memorize our passage.
When we can cling no longer, those spirals
give us wings for flexing, letting go, rising high
into our own blue hammock in the sky.
(Dancing Poetry Festival, Grand Prize, 2005;
prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 11/23/18; 11/20/22;
8/14/24)
Within the spirals of life’s rousing ride
we carry DNA and spirit prints,
plus drama, foibles, freedoms and talents
through every primal and transcendent surge.
Attempting to master loop-the-loops, we lean
to milder turns, to fewer jarring dips—
delighted when we pause and compromise,
cast sun on polar views and clear the fog,
shine up some stellar acts reflecting love.
When joy bear-hugs and we hug snugly back,
we sip the tasty tea of miracles,
believe that we will thrive on earth forever . . .
Yet, somewhere on the journey, planets which
had circled, marked our birthplace, tumble free:
the helix starts to memorize our passage.
When we can cling no longer, those spirals
give us wings for flexing, letting go, rising high
into our own blue hammock in the sky.
(Dancing Poetry Festival, Grand Prize, 2005;
prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 11/23/18; 11/20/22;
8/14/24)
TRY US, ROCK
Written on the Mist Trail
Try us, rock,
dwarf us
to sand size,
yet we will rise
as on wings of wind,
to conquer ifs
of
incomparable cliffs—
to prove that
with
granite desire,
mankind
can
climb
higher.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 5/18/22)
Written on the Mist Trail
Try us, rock,
dwarf us
to sand size,
yet we will rise
as on wings of wind,
to conquer ifs
of
incomparable cliffs—
to prove that
with
granite desire,
mankind
can
climb
higher.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 5/18/22)
I WEEP FOR GAZA
at seniors’ coffee club
I weep for Gaza,
such inhumane news.
Grim impossibles:
their food near-blocked off,
starvation’s the stage.
Do you join me as
I weep for Gaza?
Premature babies,
malnourished, will die:
mothers soon follow.
Key leaders, go to . . .
and never return!
I weep for Gaza—
bully Israel
wrecks long-settled land—
the whole strip gutted,
families and parks,
guns level food-lines!
I weep for Gaza,
tears slipping from lips,
into our dark brew.
I know what moves me!
Citizens starve while
trapped in genocide!
I weep for Gaza.
at seniors’ coffee club
I weep for Gaza,
such inhumane news.
Grim impossibles:
their food near-blocked off,
starvation’s the stage.
Do you join me as
I weep for Gaza?
Premature babies,
malnourished, will die:
mothers soon follow.
Key leaders, go to . . .
and never return!
I weep for Gaza—
bully Israel
wrecks long-settled land—
the whole strip gutted,
families and parks,
guns level food-lines!
I weep for Gaza,
tears slipping from lips,
into our dark brew.
I know what moves me!
Citizens starve while
trapped in genocide!
I weep for Gaza.
HARP STRINGS
At times, we, the people are shocked
clear through, numbed by yet
another war, rape, robbery, lethal
lie, child abduction, rare pandemic—
feel anxious, tainted
even in our home of homes.
Adapting to change,
at least we might try to smooth the air
we roughened
on jaggedy-edged days.
But, first, let us be brave together,
even learn to play
the harp strings of hope—
using if we must,
our teeth!
At times, we, the people are shocked
clear through, numbed by yet
another war, rape, robbery, lethal
lie, child abduction, rare pandemic—
feel anxious, tainted
even in our home of homes.
Adapting to change,
at least we might try to smooth the air
we roughened
on jaggedy-edged days.
But, first, let us be brave together,
even learn to play
the harp strings of hope—
using if we must,
our teeth!
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
AT LEGION OF HONOR
San Francisco, California
—Claire J. Baker
Yes,
I too
believe
the still air
clinging close
to Rodin’s
statue
The Kiss
curves.
__________________
Our thanks to Claire Baker for her fine poetry today. Claire turned 98 in late September, and congratulations to her for that! Poetry is good for the soul; Sacramento's Norma Kohout lived to be 102; Joyce Odam was 101; and now Claire is 98 and counting. Be sure to take your dose of poetry every day!
_________________
—Medusa
—Claire J. Baker
Yes,
I too
believe
the still air
clinging close
to Rodin’s
statue
The Kiss
curves.
__________________
Our thanks to Claire Baker for her fine poetry today. Claire turned 98 in late September, and congratulations to her for that! Poetry is good for the soul; Sacramento's Norma Kohout lived to be 102; Joyce Odam was 101; and now Claire is 98 and counting. Be sure to take your dose of poetry every day!
_________________
—Medusa
A reminder that
Lee Herrick’s Zoom workshop
takes place today, 10am-1pm;
and the WordsOutspoken
Literary & Resource Fair
meets in Stockton, 10am-3pm.
For info about these 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.
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!
Lee Herrick’s Zoom workshop
takes place today, 10am-1pm;
and the WordsOutspoken
Literary & Resource Fair
meets in Stockton, 10am-3pm.
For info about these 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.
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!
the harp strings of hope!
