Poetry Wall

From the Point-of-View of a Piece of Popcorn
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

THE POETRY WALL
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

There was a wall
We covered with poetry,
About ten poems a day.

Each day a newer dozen,
Like an etch-a-sketch
Of scones,
Delicious and fresh,
Hot-from-the-oven.

We needed a myth
Large enough to cover
All our broken parts—
One hand given to mystery,
Another hand to greed;
Legs that wandered aimlessly,
Hearts that lost the meaning of
What they really need.
Encouraged, thus by media,
To squander ‘round the world
With captured imaginations,
Vanity unfurled.

We wrote it all
Upon the wall
And changed it every day,
Describing our condition
In poetic play. 

 Natural-Born Social-Distancer
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

PORCUPINE IN CACTUS HUT
—Joseph Nolan

I built a hut
From spiny cactus
To house a
Porcupine.

And after
I had put
Him in,
He said that
He was fine.

He was used
To being prickly
And now his home
Matched his way
Of moving
In the world.
His outer matched his other outer,
Though he claimed to
Still be tender,
Within. 

 Cavalier ~
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

FURTHER ADVICE FROM A GLACIER
—Joseph Nolan

     (After “Advice from a Glacier” by unknown poet)

Carry huge boulders, here and there!
When you retreat,
Drop them anywhere;
A glacier should never care
Where it drops its boulders.

Carve off half-a-mountainside!
It's quite a feat
To impress your bride.
Carry it
Far off to side
And then
Just leave it somewhere.

A glacier should be cool
And shouldn't care
If it leaves
Half a mountain
Here or there.
A glacier
Should be
Cavalier!

  —Public Domain Photo

RAINBOW REUNION
—Joseph Nolan

Maybe there’s a back-door
Through a prism
Where all the colored lights
Are brought back into one,
After they had made it
All the way,
Wherever they were going,
And longed, at last,
To return home to stay?

Red, yellow, green and blue,
Vivid next to violet!
Blending all their energies
Into the most
Brilliant, common hue!

  —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

LOST AT SEA
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

There are those times
we feel lost at sea.
From the sea of memory,
to the sea of emotion.
The feeling of being stranded
in life’s daily ocean.

Our mind adrift, far from
a friendly shore, we think
about what used to be,
that is no more.

Our lifeboat has been rocked,
and now we’re adrift
waiting for, a life friendly
place, a home port, to be docked.

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

IT WAS PLAYING OUT LIKE A BAD MOVIE            
(After an old Medusa Seed Of The Week)
—Sue Crisp

Stepping through the metal gate entrance to the
vegetable garden, I could tell something was amiss.
The scene was playing out like a bad movie, the
tomato plants had taken a turn for the worse.

Plants limbs twisted, some lay prone, on the ground.
The soaker hose seemed to moving, making a hissing sound.
But-oh, no, it’s not a soaker hose.  There’s a small black
snake hiding under tomato foliage, tongue flicking from
the smiling mouth, below his nose.

What to do-what to do?  A snake wrangler, I’m not, so I
point my trusty red weed trowel at him, saying, “shoo-
shoo-shoo.”  I can almost hear him thinking, “ I guess
I’ll get no sleep here, so I’d better get my tail in gear.”

Slowly, he begins slither and slide up and over the raised
bed side.  He snake-walks himself down the garden path
and out the metal gate.  Time to look for another piece
of real estate.

Soon he’s gone.  Out of sight.  My heartbeat returns to
normal from its state of flight or fight.  I step out of the
garden, latch the metal guardian gate.  I’ll come back
to check the rest of the garden, at a later snakeless date.

 Elvis and his Mom

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

My parents’ old plum tree fruited again in time for my 49th June birthday
      The folks asked me to take as many as I wanted of the ripe-appearing, dark purple fruits
       I bit into one and and a pithy, putrid bitter taste filled my mouth
       Biting into one after another still gave me the same experience
       and my stomach afterward even got upset
       Never before have I decided to throw these “Santa Rosa” variety plums in the trash, uneaten
       It seems in the year 2020 this plum tree somehow plotted to get back at my family and me
       Before, my friends, including some at church, even cherished receiving the “gift” from me of the plums—
       Some even let me have some jelly or jam they made with them     
       Good thing I hadn’t given them any of these bitter plums so far this year, fruit that even a lot of sugar wouldn’t make alright
       Maybe God poisoned these summer plums now for me as "forbidden fruit”
       and He decided to punish me by making my once-most favorite home-grown plums now practically inedible  


—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

                 

GROWTH
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

stapler jammed again

electric can opener cut
just a little bit and then spun
the can all the way around
like it was done

engine cranked, gas fumes
had other ideas, and there
it sits, idle

but the culture is one of
reward, earned or not, so
we carry on…

good boy! here’s your treat

properly prepared president
gave us a plan to deal with a
pandemic, which was swept
under the rug like so much dust

in a bold act of non-violence,
one black man took a knee to
tell us about the dark side of
white police treating all black
folks like career criminals

record high unemployment
and financial instability, while
stakeholders are doing quite
well, thank you

but the culture is one of
reward, earned or not, so
we carry on…

good boy! here’s your treat

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

OFF
—Caschwa

they were daft and deft
which confused the audience
who just laughed and leght

***

star light, star bright, first
one that really annoys me
will be seeing stars

***

knock, knock—who’s there? the
owl said—the owl said who?—oh
thank you Captain Ob

***

there once was a boy
who felt so sick, he could not
write a Limerick

not a wee, small one
it just wasn’t any fun
being prolific

***

it is hard to cut
“bagel” into perfect halves
3 to 2, to chew

***

I’m looking for a
forgotten idea I had
no idea at all 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

UNTITLED
—Caschwa

Black Hole, framed and hung
a conversation starter
that will never end

wild okra blossoms
not too shy for photo op
all gone by mid-day

good plants attract bees
wasps, hornets, yellow jackets
anything that stings

impartial odors?
no, they trigger polarized,
judgmental feelings

are you allergic
to any common foodstuffs?
well, that’s more for me!

I took a nature
walk along the riverside
soothing, calming, nice

maybe one more drink
from the well of Abraham
ice cold Beer Sheva

Heather and Heath

—Public Domain Photo

NATURE (Haiku in name only)
—Caschwa

where I grew up, we
had neither heath nor heather
just asphalt roadways

tract housing, concrete
construction projects galore
skyscrapers, airports

had to look in the
encyclopedia for
amber fields of grain

and there were some kids
who’d never seen the ocean
up close and for real

which is likely why
my vocabulary lacks
both “heath” and “heather”

now, as a poet
it is incumbent upon
me to use those terms

even if I still
have no clue to their meaning
just for show, you know 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE XXXV
—Caschwa
      (inspired by James Lee Jobe’s
            appreciation for the land)


when you are the Earth, and
after a long history of giving
humans every material thing
they could ever need, they

respond by giving it back as
trash—furniture dumped into
landfills, foam cups dropped
onto the crust, where it will take

from 500 to 1 million years to
break down, and even then,
rather than biodegrade, they’ll
just break into smaller pieces.

the lessons of hate follow the
same pattern as foam cups,
as seen by the actions of
humans: when they encounter

animus, they shred it into little
pieces which they collect and
save to build giant walls and
torture devices

thus when man makes hate, it
lasts forever, like foam cups.

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

ONE QUESTION
—Caschwa

there is only one thing that scorpions
know how to do, and they are good at it
don’t get them started, you will have a fit
they hold the title, all time champions

so why do police employ such creatures
totally devoid of good sense and wit
as if they are exemplary teachers?

______________________

Thanks to our contributors for their contributions on various subjects today, bringing their wide gifts to our Monday pot-luck. And a lively gathering it is!

Sacramento poet Susan Kelly-DeWitt writes: “Main Street Rag Publishing Company is bringing out my new book, Gravitational Tug, due to be released in August/September 2020. It will sell for $14 but you can purchase it now for $8.50 by placing an advance discount order at the MSR Online Bookstore. View the book and purchase details here: mainstreetragbookstore.com/product/gravitational-tug-susan-kelly-dewitt/.” Thanks, Susan, and congratulations!

Here in our area, Sac. Poetry Center uses Zoom for weekly readings and workshops. For more info, go to www.sacramentopoetrycenter.com/. Also this week, on Fri., 7:30pm: Video poetry reading on Facebook by Davis Poet Laureate James Lee Jobe at james-lee-jobe.blogspot.com/.

_____________________

—Medusa

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Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com.
The snakes of Medusa are always hungry!

 

Yes-Haw!
Saddle up. poets!