Embarrassment of Riches!

Platypus
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

STUFF ON THE FLY
—Charles Mariano, Sacramento, CA

SIGHT UNSEEN

knew he was old
like me,
because the envelope
came
from a mailbox,
postage stamped,
handwritten

* * *

SHELTERED PLACE

help!
don’t know
what i’m doing,
and i keep
writing about it

* * *

DISCARDS

got more
scattered, scribbled
pages
than any writer
could ever dream

too bad
ain’t
any good

* * *

STATUS

got news for you,
you ain’t all that,
and you definitely,
ain’t all this 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

STUFF ON THE FLY, CONT.
—Charles Mariano

FINE PRINT

my life
is an endless rant
of fragmented,
incoherent, 
stupid sentences

* * *

OPEN WOUND

didn’t get a chance
to say goodbye
to my father

no hint of illness
no bedside vigil,
no hand-holding,
last embrace

just a late night call
out of the blue,
that killed me

* * *

TREE OF LIFE

it’s not so much
the years,
ragged as they were

it’s the telltale rings
around my ankles

* * *

KNOW IT

inspiration
stops me in my tracks,
kicks me in the teeth,
dares me to write it

* * *

LIGHTING

not sure why,
but think
i’ve been living
the last two decades
in sepia tone

* * *

BIO

my next bio
(if requested)
will be,

“lives in a box,
rarely comes out”

* * *

PROCRASTINATION

truth is
i’m incomplete, unfinished,
running out of road,
and my feet hurt

* * *

TIMING

didn‘t know
i had to go,
until i went

—Public Domain Artwork Courtesy of Sue Crisp

PRIORITIES
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

Retirement was nearly
a time of despair.
My mind in a whirl...
what to do with all of this time to spare?
A hobby, yes, a hobby,
that’s what I need.
Perhaps start a garden,
watch plants grow from seed.
Ah, take up quilting,
start gathering scraps of cloth.
When it comes to figuring patterns,
I’m a slow as a sloth.
No, no, no, it’s cooking
that gets my creative juices going.
In no time my freezer
will be overflowing.
Just thinking of all the possibilities,
will I truly have any spare time?
I’m starting to realize enjoying
spare time isn’t a crime.

 —Public Domain Artwork Courtesy of Sue Crisp

SPARE TIME
—Sue Crisp

I guess you can call
down time, spare time.
One would think
it would be time sublime.
There are so many things to
do, other than going to the store,
the house cleaning, laundry,
ironing, and so much more.
But, I think I’ll use this time
to write a poem, maybe two.
I think that’s the perfect use
of my spare time, don’t you?

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

ANY “US” LEFT AT ALL?
—Joseph Nolan

It’s good enough,
We don’t need each other.
It’s good enough,
We don’t call.

It’s good enough,
We don’t visit-
If we hardly
Ever call.

It’s good enough,
It’s good enough,
If we don’t touch
At all!

It’s good enough,
As though we lived
So far away
We could never,
In any way,
Breach the fall
Between us!

Then,
Would there be
Any “us”
Left,
At all?

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

MIDTOWN IN SACRAMENTO
—Joseph Nolan

There are so
Many subtle flavors
In a well-made soup:
Each separate, small vegetable,
Each proper pinch of spice.

Isn’t it so nice?

Like when we’re walking downtown
Browsing through the streets,
Looking into windows,
Sometimes, friends we meet,
The smells from the restaurants,
Bakeries and tapas bars,
The margarita-din
On the verandas,
On a sultry, summer evening,
While the Delta breeze blows in.

Oh! To live
In Midtown
In the summer!

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

BUTCHER IN A VEGAN’S KITCHEN
—Joseph Nolan

Oh my God!
Don’t tell me
There’s a butcher
In my kitchen,
With a butcher knife
Cutting through
Some skins!

I’ve been
A vegan
Half my life

And could not
Bear to wear
A grin,

When I see
What he’s been
Up to,
In my
Sanctified
Kitchen!

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

THE FOOD-CHAIN STOPS HERE
—Joseph Nolan

Don’t go out.
Don’t shout.
Keep quiet.
Stay home.
Don’t roam.
If you can’t buy it now,
Come back later.

We don’t always have it,
Not like before.
Wait outside
For your turn
To enter through our door.

Keep in line!
We have workers
Working overtime.
Be nice!
Think twice!
Before you start
Acting out.

It may get worse.
We may run out.
Whatcha gonna do then?

Call your politician.
See if he can help you.
His phone is off the line.
He say, “I’ll get back to you,
When I have the time.
Have a nice day,
In the meantime!”

  —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

COMPENSATION
—Joseph Nolan

Absolute indenture
Captured my adventure
Upside-down.

I offer
To buy
Another round
For everyone
In the bar,
As if
They needed it.

Looking through
A gizmo’s slit
To see
A moving picture,

Depicting two,
In thralls of love,
As though
It came down,
From above.

The brain,
It’s said,
Is made of bread
And sees everything
Right-side-up,
Despite the fact
That eyes see
Upside-down.

It’s a concept
Called “compensation.”

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

SAILORS IN PORT
—Joseph Nolan

The Prince of Peace
Will come awash in blood,
His own blood,
The Alka-Seltzer of
A thousand, remnant hangovers
Of sailors in port
Trying to drink hard enough
To forget the exact time
They are due back on ship—
Just drunk enough,
But not so drunk
They can’t navigate the
Gang-plank unassisted,
Lest they be brought to mast
And questioned by an officer
At to exactly what their problem is?

Splitting headaches
And growling bowels
Will be their penance,
By which they will be
Once again instructed
On the virtues of moderation
While in port
And to not resort
To impaling oneself, repeatedly,
On a pike of desperate drunkenness,
Simply to overshadow
The ordinary pain of dull existence
That haunts each sailor at sea. 

 Onions, Taters

—Photo by Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

THANK YOU, CAPTAIN
—Caschwa

it may neither be visible

nor measurable with
conventional tools

or conform to our
long-standing rules

but there it is as an
undercurrent

rip off the top and
see the image burnt

as our ship of state
puts new hands at the helm

who committed great mutiny
like some Hollywood film

take away the sex scenes
with their close-ups of nipples

a pattern of thoughts
appears, first just as ripples

that the former First Mate
when the ship was on course

would now be the best choice
to command our great force

 Edible Flowers

—Photo by Caschwa

SILENT CENSUS
—Caschwa
 
all along their routes, letter
carriers can take note of
conspicuous couples who
don’t receive any mail

homeless, beamingly proud
new parents, drifting souls
kicked out of somewhere else
and left with no options

pioneer spirits who could have
successfully roughed it in yesteryear
and are now no match for Wall Street,
property attorneys, and contracts

while there are all kinds of OTC pain
relievers for those tortured with toothaches,
for those seeking asylum, all remedies
don the elusive veil of the Holy Grail

behold half a couple, sobbing
with forbidden memories of
the other half murdered, deported,
or imprisoned in urban growth

now the same state who removed
entire houses to clear the land for
a new super highway, is offended
to find souls living under the freeway

 Spring Plums

—Photo by Caschwa

THE FIGHT WITHIN
—Caschwa

presidential candidates
     have reached out
        to their advocates

opinions explode
     piercing the heart
        tearing families apart

some rail against socialism
     because it favors the group
        instead of personal freedoms

while others insist
     it is our patriotic duty
        for all to carry a gun

the Three Musketeers
     one for all
        all for one

everyone will agree with this
     or that
        or not

 Spring Berries

—Photo by Caschwa

LATE AT NIGHT
—Caschwa

more than a couple crickets
     join together
       in chorus

train cars are coupled
     or uncoupled
       quite loudly

constellations brightly violate
     all the privacy rules
       and cluster in orgies

that item you lost
     is now even
       more lost

neighbors arrive home
     tired and spent
       ready for sleep

the programming on TV
     has devolved to
       fanfares and commercials

 Spring Apricots

—Photo by Caschwa

THE BIG PUSH
—Caschwa

some of us remember how
wonderful asbestos was,
until it wasn’t

and not that long ago, saturation
advertising bombarded us with
the benefits of carpools
High Occupancy Vehicle (HOV) lanes
pile in, save the air

and now that same government
of, by, and for the people
is mandating            distancing,
by all means, avoid those
dreaded high occupancy vehicles

the United States of America (USA)
has become the land of We’re Just
Distant Cousins, And Let’s Keep It
That Way, Thank You (WJDCALKITWTY)
national motto:  “Don’t breathe on me, bro”
(DBOMB)

 —Photo by Caschwa

Three poems from Dugout Anthology by
Michael Ceraolo, sort of "a Spoon River 

Anthology for baseball":


WILLIAM H. CAMMEYER
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH

In the winter of 1861-62
I announced that the grounds of the Union Skating Association
would be enclosed and made available
for other uses once winter was over,
one of which was the playing of baseball
To show my genius, I thought that baseball
would provide only a very small fraction
of the revenue I expected to take in,
so I initially planned to charge the teams rent
But after seeing the crowd that showed up
to watch the first game, paying no admission fee,
I decided to charge an admission fee
and collect a portion of the gate receipts instead
When other clubs saw my success,
they quickly followed suit with their own playing grounds
Almost a decade later I offered,
for a quarter more a game, the first luxury seating,
something that was a little slower to catch on,
though I understand that in the twenty-first century
such seating is a big money-maker

* * *

GEORGE A. BAIRD
—Michael Ceraolo

Like most inventors with their inventions,
I don't flatter myself that no one else
would ever have come up with it if I hadn't
But I did come up with
the first electronic scoreboard and,
though there have been many refinements to it since,
credit (or blame, depending on your taste)
should start with me

* * *

THE MURPHY BROTHERS
—Michael Ceraolo

We worked the land like our ancestors in the old country,
but we did so in cities and not on farms:
we were groundskeepers at baseball parks
And we pioneered, without apology
and with the assistance of club officials,
the practice of tailoring the playing grounds
to maximize the team's strength and minimize its weaknesses
And our spiritual descendants still do so today

 —Public Domain Artwork Courtesy of Sue Crisp

ADJUSTING
—Sue Crisp
 
Spare time?  Housebound
isn’t really ideal.
It takes a little time
to get the overall feel,
that you have time to slow from
run to walk and let body and soul heal.
No hustle and bustle
to get things done,
take time to let yourself
count as number one.
When this spare time
thing is over, you’ll feel a pang of regret,
realizing you weren’t ready
for spare time to be over yet.

____________________

Today’s LongerNip:

AFRAID TO GET LAID
—Joseph Nolan

I used to go out trollin’
For whatever I might find—
A girl who’s quick and willin’,

I never used to mind
Most of the small details,

But now I find
My urge, well, it fails,
Since I’m afraid to get laid.

They say there’s nasty germs
All around the town,
You have to keep your distance,
Or else you may go down
Which never
Bothered
Me before,

But since this is a plague
I’m not horny, anymore—
Instead, I’m afraid to get laid. 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

________________________

Medusa and a computer are a dangerous combination—especially when she’s locked in a tower—so today we have what is possibly the longest post ever! My thanks to all these wonderful contributors; our SnakePals are bizzy bizzy producing some glorious writing during our viral “vacation”.

But hey—we’re in cyberspace, so we have unlimited room! Lots to look at, lots to read! Send your poems, photos & artwork about pretty much any subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. The snakes of Medusa have voracious appetites!

Another cancellation: Bay Area Ina Coolbrith Circle’s 2020 Poets’ Dinner (April 4) has been (hopefully) postponed to July 11. For more about the Ina Coolbrith Circle, go to  www.coolpoetry.org/. 

Speaking of the Bay Area, the 27th Annual Dancing Poetry presentations by The Poetry Dance Theater Company will be held at the California Palace of the Legion of Honor in San Francisco on September 26. For more info, see www.dancingpoetry.com/. Deadline for submitting poetry was Jan. 31, but usually we have winners in our area who will read their winning poems, and some of whose poems will be choreographed by the dance company.

Speaking of submitting, this is a good time to hunker down with them lazy little poem-ponies of yours and see if you can get some of them published. This blog has a few thoughts about that; go to PUBLISHING: Get Your Work Out There! at the top of this column. There are also some suggestions in the long green box at the right of this column, under “Submit I Say—Submit!”

If I were going to do any submitting right now, I’d go to the ‘Net and type in “poetry journals”, see what pops up, and see if I can find any whose style seems to match mine. And remember—submitting is a numbers game; the more you submit, the more you're accepted. So don’t be shy, and don’t be put off by rejection!

___________________

—Medusa, hoping to see your work here, there, and everywhere…

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