This World Full Of Cheese

Lunacy I
—Public Domain Artwork Courtesy of Sue Crisp
 

LUNACY
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

Waxing Gibbous Moon tonight,
soon to be on full glow,
casting shadows of darkness and light,
on its night-time world below.

Those with creature souls
will feel its magnetic pull,
take on, perhaps, creature roles.

A form of lunacy felt by some,
leading them down odd roads,
a transition they will soon overcome.

Lunar events, strange powers, lunacy overloads,
but then, perhaps lunacy is just lunacy,
a condition a full moon goads.

 —Artwork by Norman J. Olson

GOING ASHORE AT VILLEFRANCHE
—Norman J. Olson, Maplewood, MN
 
the big ship barely moves with the
6 foot swell, but stepping from
the gangway to the bouncing
deck of the tender
boat, young hands help
me across…  the water is blue as the
back end of midnight, but shiny too
like brittle dreams
or young love…  the soft green hills of
Villefranche frame the bay
and a few
tan houses, flung
like a handful of dice onto
the hillside…  a Philippine girl and two
boys from the crew
giggle at what?? a fat old man slipping on the deck…
no, they are too kind for
that…  maybe they giggle because they
are young and look into a future I cannot even
imagine…  or maybe they
are just happy with the brown purity of their
arms and smooth smiling
faces… and a few hours off
work…

 —Artwork by Norman J. Olson 

MEMORY OF A TRIP TO ROME
—Norman J. Olson

the ancient
marble is piled in my
memory, tons upon tons
of
stony thoughts…  who carved that
creamy white stone… what sort of
hammer did they use?  were
they hot and tired?  sick
of being poor boys making
monuments for the rich perhaps,
or maybe they were happy to have a place
and not be starving
in the street…  the Pantheon is
only two thousand years old
and already, some of
the stones are badly
worn…

I remember a tabby
cat
who sat
in the shadows and looked at me
with yellow
eyes…  the tomb of Raphael... 

me standing
there beneath the sky blue occulus
with my dead phone
in my wrinkled blue veined
hands…

 —Artwork by Norman J. Olson

LIMITS
—Caschwa

Used to love reading books
I read every science fiction novel
and whaling adventure book
in the little public library near my
elementary school

then came junior and senior
high school with assigned reading
from very heavy tomes that
greedily stole my time away

and after that came a serious
head injury from a motorcycle
crash that imposed new limits
on my trusty gray matter

I still love to read, a little bit
at a time, such as a person who
wades happily in shallow water
but avoids the deep dives, because

my mind is like a paper bag, eager
to receive all kinds of groceries
intentions—well and good
retention—wish I could

instructions: pick this poet up very
gently from the bottom with both
hands, and don’t set him down on
a wet counter top

________________

MULTI-BASKING
—Caschwa

(inspired by “crowded brain” from
“Idle Mind” by Tom Goff, Medusa’s
Kitchen, April 1, 2020)

lather with lotion
go to the beach
the sounds of the ocean
will mute the sun’s hot reach

filter out substance
concentrate on form
let the sand’s gentle acceptance
replace struggles at the dorm

poppy-cock and ballyhoo
are all you need to know
keep timepiece buried in your shoe
and stay till the horizon is red aglow 

 Spring Berries

—Photo by Caschwa
 

I’M GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING
—Caschwa

but the bride-to-be
so tender and proud
has never met me
or heard me out loud

she sees my fine verse
submitted with hope
and rejects with a curse
like I’m some kind of dope

omniscience, she insists
read every word she’s used
approach with clenched fists
and expect to get abused

original copy
as dumb as that sounds
no rusty jalopy
or any lost and founds

the road to success
is paved with rejection
no maps, I confess
will help with direction

_________________

TOO OLD
—Caschwa

some never begin
the long, long list of begats
royal tits for tats

it is not like, once
weaned from mammary
one has extra memory

to master all that
lavish consanguinity
for eternity 

 Spring Apricots

—Photo by Caschwa
 

PUBLIC DOMAIN PHOTO
—Caschwa

(based on a photo posted in
Medusa’s Kitchen, 4/14/20:
“All Unattended Children
Will Be Sold To The Circus”)


warning: democracy left
unattended will be sold
to the circus

all the better to jerk us

as the main key to
democracy
is huge crowds of people
showing up to cheer
performers in the hot
spotlight who risk
imminent peril

often looking lunatic doing it

drudgery is gone
the clowns toss out peppermint

and the band plays on
all for our betterment

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

TWO POEMS from his “Dugout” Series
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH

Andrew "Rube" Foster
 
As a pitcher I was equal or superior to Mathewson
As a manager I was superior to McGraw
As a league found I was equal or superior to Johnson
As a czar I was equal or superior to Landis
As such I had my detractors,
something that didn't bother me in the least:
anyone who actually does something has detractors
But it proved to be too much for one person:
overwork, plus exposure to a gas leak
that possibly caused brain damage,
led to a breakdown necessitating institutionalization,
where I died a few years later in my early fifties

___________________

C.I. Taylor

I see Andrew compares himself to Ban Johnson,
among many other baseball immortals
But just as Mr. Johnson didn't build his league by himself,
neither did Andrew, though he may have convinced himself he did
That was always his problem:
he couldn't be content with the credit he was due
Anyone else who was due credit,
anyone who questioned any of his actions,
was a 'detractor', especially those
like my brothers and me that he considered rivals
That's sad

 Lunacy II
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

I, WHO SLAUGHTERS DINOSAURS
                By Crow Magnum
—Joseph Nolan

Today, dinosaurs are smaller than paramecia.
Everyone must hide indoors
From microscopic tyrannosaurs.

I shoot them with tiny arrows
And stab them with tiny spears.
I smash them
With tiny clubs
So tiny, no-one can see.

This battle goes on night and day.
I and the rest of my crew
Work in shifts.

We dance shaman dances
Around those possessed—
Those who cough and cannot breathe.

We sound giant trumpets in their ears
To frighten away the little red demons
All of us shamans have seen in our dreams.

This battle is not what it seems.
It is a battle with the past
Superimposed over the present.

There is no treatment
And no cure
Except for fish-bowl cleaner
And the shaman stuff we do.

Call us if you need us.
We charge time-and-a-half
On weekends.
And guarantee to huff and puff
Until we blow your house down!!

 Lunacy III
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

PANDEMIC MAN
—Joseph Nolan

Wears a mask

Stands far away

Hoards toilet paper

Stays home

Socializes by phone

Reaches out with email

Video chat and moans,

After he has hung up

And feels too alone.

__________________

WORLD FULL OF CHEESE
—Joseph Nolan
 
Can you imagine a world
Full of cheese?

Bless yourself
If you sneeze!

Some of it
Is quite awful.

I don’t know
How it could please

Anyone near enough
To smell it,

Although
I know they
Would say,
“The pleasure
Is in
The pudding,
So jump in
And see
How it feels!”

 Lunacy IV
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
 

INTO A PRIVATE MADNESS
—Joseph Nolan

I must shuffle off, now,
Into my own
Private madness.

Resiliency
Will serve me best,
Since I’ve lost
All the rest
With whom I
Used to travel.

Complacency
Abandoned me
About twenty
Friends ago,

When I was still able
To sit at a table
To banter, bandy and joke,

But now it seems such a burden!
Just to show up and be seen,
To murmur,
“Eu te amo!”
When I fail
To feel
What I mean.

_______________

A STAR FROM MY POCKET
—Joseph Nolan 
 
If I could pull
A star out
From my pocket,
To put into your hand,
I would, I would,
If I only could.

I would paint
Such a star
In moonbeams,
The better
To stir
Your heated soul
Into an embrace
With Infinity.

In these dark times,
I pray that you’ll
Be whole!

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan 

THE EMBARKATION
—Joseph Nolan

To the wisdom
Of forefathers,
Poured into
Sake cups,
We drink.
Drink up!
Kanpai!

Such wisdom
Is fleeting,
As anchors
Are raised
And ships leave
Our harbor
For long trips
A-sea,

We have cried
Our good-byes
So many times
Before,
But still overcome,
We can’t help but
Cry more.

And those left behind
In bondage must be,
As love’s lines stretch
Long in longing
To ships on the sea.

_________________________

Today’s LittleNip:

PUNISH
—Caschwa

the purchase of sheep shears
must of course come with
de-furred payment options

***

trust in the Devil yields
trident rue
good, honest work is
tried and true

*** 

stop me if you’ve heard this
 
_______________________

Lots of robust poetry and visuals in our usual Monday lollapaloosa, and many thanks for it all, including Norman Olsen’s artwork and poems, which are, as he says, “about travel that seems almost unimaginable in the insanity of our pandemic…” Our Seed of the Week: Lunacy, was a no-brainer; you can pretty much see lunacy wherever you look these days!

Most poetry events in our area have been cancelled due to Shelter in Place, of course, but some readings and workshops have gone online—such as Sac. Poetry Center’s following schedule of Zoom happenings for this week (www.sacramentopoetrycenter.com):
    •••Today (4/20), 10am: Writers on the Air, led by Todd Boyd. Zoom link: us04web.zoom.us/j/6542635827?pwd=YzdvelcxOW1CNWg2YnBuc05ZYUJaQT09&_x_zm_rtaid=QcbpsqIjTGS8PhPrvCDtrw.1587397473644.e382bbce4a111b0261a600df3755f73d&_x_zm_rhtaid=459/. Meeting ID: 358 106 078     Password: 025674. RSVP in advance via email to writersontheair.message@gmail.com/.
    •••Tonight (4/20), 7:15pm: SPC Monday night poetry reading, featuring Bob Stanley: “With all this solitude: old poems & new poems,” hosted by Lynn Belzer. Bob is the author of 3 collections, in addition to holding a 4-year-long term as Sacramento’s Poet Laureate. Go to
us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Meeting ID: 763 873 3462 ("P O E T R E E I N C")     Password: spcsdv2020
    •••Tues. (4/21), 7:30pm: SPC Tuesday night workshop, hosted by Danyen Powell. Bring a poem for critique. See us02web.zoom.us/j/346316163/. Meeting ID: 346 316 163
    •••Wed. (4/22), 6pm: MarieWriters: Write to a prompt and share your poem led by Ann Michaels. zoom.us/j/671443996
    •••Fridays, 4pm: Writing From the Inside Out weekly workshop, writing to prompts, facilitated by Nick LeForce. Info/reg. in advance for this meeting at zoom.us/meeting/register/upwkde-opjkpnyQECAVBKolY4hKCdl61uA/. After registering, you will receive a confirmation email containing information about joining the meeting. (If you have registered before, just use the same link.)

Also this week:
•••Friday, 7:30pm: Live-feed poetry readings on Facebook by Davis Poet Laureate James Lee Jobe. at www.facebook.com/jamesleejobe/. Poets are coming up with creative ways of connecting, too, such as Rhony Bhopla’s “10 minutes of quiet writing” (live) on Facebook last night at 8pm. Watch for them!

One last note: a mea culpa to Joseph Nolan, who is the true author of the following poem which I posted as the LittleNip yesterday, calling it a creation of Carl Schwartz’s. To reiterate:


VIRAL BLUE LAWS
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
 
Every day sucks like Sunday
Back when Sundays were blue.
You can’t even go to a movie!
There’s really nothing to do,

Except you can still go fishing
Or climb a tree or two
Or mow the lawn
Or catch up on your homework
Or dream until Sunday is gone.

Sorry, Joseph! (I've changed it on yesterday's post.)

___________________________

—Medusa

 

 Lunacy V
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

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