—Poems and Photos by Martie Odell-Ingebretsen, Sacramento
TO DREAM OF HONEYED CLOVER
I walked on callused road
following a curling thought
and I was drenched
my breath a torch
for I knew where I was going
thus far and my faith leaped
across the precipice
and then caught me firm and growing
How tall I seemed
so wrapped in the moon
and then kneeling
into the dirt of meadow
shimmering with fragility
caught in questioning
one small blade of grass
and indeed there were enchants
a heaven of diaphanous clouds
and one of them holding a rainbow
so dainty and perfectly colored
with no beginning or end
only this pure now
and still I chased some majesty
that called my name
and it was filled with words like stars
and it dripped sound
that found me and pierced my thirst
with honeyed clover
and spread me out
and I let it have its way with me
and plant this fertile place
with ancient harmony
and I thought this is the place
where I was born and will die
and then I was awake
and so caught in this delicious memory
that on my hands I held the fragrance
of the dark and loamy earth.
I walked on callused road
following a curling thought
and I was drenched
my breath a torch
for I knew where I was going
thus far and my faith leaped
across the precipice
and then caught me firm and growing
How tall I seemed
so wrapped in the moon
and then kneeling
into the dirt of meadow
shimmering with fragility
caught in questioning
one small blade of grass
and indeed there were enchants
a heaven of diaphanous clouds
and one of them holding a rainbow
so dainty and perfectly colored
with no beginning or end
only this pure now
and still I chased some majesty
that called my name
and it was filled with words like stars
and it dripped sound
that found me and pierced my thirst
with honeyed clover
and spread me out
and I let it have its way with me
and plant this fertile place
with ancient harmony
and I thought this is the place
where I was born and will die
and then I was awake
and so caught in this delicious memory
that on my hands I held the fragrance
of the dark and loamy earth.
IN SEARCH OF DESTINY
I can see the path turning,
though beyond is hidden
by a cliff of delicate fern,
with plume and grace
they reach in knowing
and peek with curling greenness
around the bend and nod,
ah, so that is the way.
And what does it matter
to this purpose which is now
just this dappling of sun
and the damp delicious earth?
Oh, but this fleeting butterfly life
feels whispers,
begging delicate urgent go,
find the music to the dance
then dance for love dance,
this blossoming has numbers
and idle wings cannot fly.
Take these words and all this paper,
these printed exclamations of feeling,
this intelligent question,
this tale of light and laughter,
all these marvelous and exploding tears
and build a tree you see,
to jump from
and see around and over this tedious trail,
to glaze the surface of this day
with delicious and glorious gleaning.
Return to midnight and stars slow circling
and release your full blooming,
for sure each small movement
is a changing thing that alters,
if only the leaf you cling to,
and dawn will seep into the dark valley
with the reverent and worthy color of hope.
FALLING INTO THE STARS IN DAYLIGHT
Falling into the stars
in daylight
I hold my skin
knowing my heart
is too open
my surface cannot hold
keep it safe
from this giant leap
that questions who I am
Still I would jump
across this mote of doubt
leap into this intimate meaning
give spur to the pounding race
across the plain
in search of destiny
if I could but know
an answer
that survives the tumbling
This dangling has me drenched
breathes me a purpose
that keeps me mighty
in ropes of words
for I am
falling into the stars
in daylight
Today's LittleNip:
TO SLEEP WITH STARS
If I could paint a place to go
it would be a twisted trail
bending bough and shadow dwelt
with slanted masts of sun’s inhale
I’d dwell in turning curving world
moving over sand dune’s face
with a hand held out to blowing warmth
the fleeting moments movement’s trace
In springtime sweet peas' tenderness
I’d find the way to evening sky
and dim the meadow of lantern light
to sleep with stars in hushaby
______________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Martie Odell-Ingebretsen for today's delightful Kitchen fare, and a reminder that The Poetry Night Reading Series launches a new edition of The Blue Moon Literary and Art Review tonight at 8pm at The John Natsoulas Gallery, 521 1st Street, Davis. See
And a very happy birthday to Sacramento poet Joyce Odam, who turns 90 today!!
And a very happy birthday to Sacramento poet Joyce Odam, who turns 90 today!!
