Hope, Springing Eternal
—Poems and Original Art by Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
TRUST
Hope comes to me in the guise of a weeping maiden,
stumbling toward me, face bent into her hands,
having lost her way again.
She pretends not to see me,
looking at her through my compassionate mirror,
how I guide her with my eyes : this way… this way…
_________________
DISEMBODIMENT
After Back Cover Art: “Ascension” by Monty Wanamaker
in Spoon River Poetry Review, Summer 2003
Gray body, caught in gray swirl of dark light
flaming outwards from evolving center,
how lyrical you become : a gracefulness of lines
flowing in the same directional source—
the rim at the edge holding its form, as if
to control what you are to yourself : a burst
of energy—duplicating—until you are entire :
a fusion of life-force, death-force, mind-force.
Straw to Gold
This wound of man,
made of sand,
I need to re-write him,
make him real—
not an ocean man
edging toward land,
but a real sea-man with sad human eyes.
The tides erode him,
taking years—
taking a life-time.
His heart is open to love,
to despair,
to every reason to care—
more or less,
as the tides
decree.
Essentially,
he is free to become,
or return, to his beginning.
Worry Stones
WORRY STONE
I am the worry stone,
sent to worry you,
to fit your hand
and pocket—
not your shoe;
I would not have you limp
or toss me free—
I would have you
remember… remember…
ever remember me.
___________________
TO A CROW, OH
The crow is a cynic now. The Field Guide
of Decent Humans has caused him to worry.
How is he to know and trust a human who
might not be safe for him to share this life
of human and crow—crow and human?
I worry for his worry. Oh, poor crow.
What a heavy concern to inflict upon
his sensitivity and trust in the Literature
Guides' Directives of our existence, and what
does a Field Guide know of decent humans?
A Jug of Wine and Thou
TO CLAIM THIS FLOWER
“Little Flower In Crannied Wall”
—Alfred Lord Tennyson
Leave it there ! Why pick it, root and all, when it has
just struggled so to grow, even here, in this tight space,
between rock and rock, taking the sun as we take sun…
of what use to you to take this flower from such earned
survival and feel the right to do so—do you not equate
anything by this?
Pathway to Back and Forth
TODAY THAT IS MUCH LIKE THE OTHERS
There is a tear in the world that fits you—
like a mind-rip made of cynical regret
that you stir like bitter coffee, as though you
forgot the sugar, or refused the sweetness.
Some days you like the gray air that
surrounds you. You linger against the tide
of going through it—turning cold where
every gray thought gets through, and nothing
gets sewn back together. Life is raw
today. The tear widens and you must not
add to the tearing which is bloodless.
You accept the wound as you always do
as part of its condition—and you shudder
like a knife-rip that goes through you.
Go, Caution, Stop
TORN TOWARD LIGHT
You utter scream after scream into the vast silence
and watch the sound waves travel
distance after distance—
how still everything becomes now
as if everything has ended,
even the light waves.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
TO PREVAIL :
Just as joy
is the result of real effort,
a difficulty overcome,
a height reached—
something as simple
as forgiving lethargy
its hold on you—
One effort at a time :
rise… walk… do…
—Joyce Odam
___________________
Good morning and thank you to Joyce Odam, who has been remembering her worry stone for our Seed of the Week: Worry. Our new Seed of the Week is Through the Back Door of the Castle. Let your imagination run wild—the castle doesn’t have to be a literal one, of course; or maybe Harry and Meghan come to mind—and send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from.
For up-coming poetry events in our area, scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa, celebrating poetry and poets everywhere!
Castle - The Hidden Door In The Back
—Poster by Mike Savad
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.
