WHAT COLOR IS COFFEE?
—Ruhiyyih Hansen, Sacramento
Coffee is tan
the color of my skin
Tea is brown
the color of my hair
Juice comes in
different colors
Like the rainbow
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Thanks, Ru! Ru Hansen's poem is a preview of the fine work to be found in Snakelets, the journal of poetry from/for kids 0-12 years of age. The latest issue of Snakelets (#6) will be available tonight at the reading/release of Frank Taber's new chapbook, Northwind on I-5, at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 pm. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else's to read. Also available will be Judy Halebsky's new littlesnake broadside, Almost Turning Over. Here's another sample from Snakelets, this one from Irene Williams, whose father, Steve Williams, used to live in Sacramento and did the very first littlesnake broadside. Steve still keeps in touch from Portland, and regularly submits poetry, both from himself (see the up-coming Review), and from his youngsters (bless his heart). He and his wife also run a poetry website (wildpoetryforum.com); check it out.
MY UNCLE DANNY
—Irene Williams, age 7
My uncle is named Danny.
He lives at Hillcrest.
Grandma goes to visit
Danny and she brings food
and sometimes diapers.
I talk to the parakeets
in the smoking area.
Danny is in a wheelchair.
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Thanks, Irene!
Taylor Graham took yesterday's bait and sent in a peacock poem, so now a copy of Frank's brand-new chapbook will be winging her way. Send me a peacock poem before this coming Friday night (3/10) at midnight, and I'll send you Frank's book, or any other rattlechap that suits your fancy. Previously-published poems are A-OK.
THE PEACOCK IN LOVE
—Taylor Graham, Somerset
Bits of morning glory,
mountain-lake blue.
Sapphires scattered
on the far side of weeds.
Cerulean and jade.
The neighbors' iris-
studded peacock peck-stalks
the roadside, struts
the pavement stopping cars
with his sun-struck plumage
trailing him across hot
chip-seal. He's searching
for his peahen,
on whom he's never
set the iridescent eyes
of his tail, but believes
she must exist,
somewhere in a great bright
peafowl world. And so
all night, all day
he screams
his pea-love lyrics
to a world that curses
his sweetest note.
(a version of this poem first appeared in Art/Life in 1995)
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Thanks, TG!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)