Damselfly
—Poetry by Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
—Public Domain Photos
—Public Domain Photos
CUMULUS CLOUDS
The book of sky opens, pages turning
as cumulus clouds heap, converge,
billow, spread wide into snowy meadows
moving westward, beyond our vision,
disappearing, returning as ocean foam.
When a storm-cloud shrouds the sun,
shadows flicker over our eyelids.
Poppies partly close,
reopening when the sun again
takes center stage.
Inspired, we climb a fantasy ladder,
enter an alabaster mansion, explore
as painters, poets, dancers of the sky.
Look, snowy mountains, brooks
wildflowers and summer lakes.
We will ourselves back to earth,
knowing everything exists
masterfully in flux.
The book of sky opens, pages turning
as cumulus clouds heap, converge,
billow, spread wide into snowy meadows
moving westward, beyond our vision,
disappearing, returning as ocean foam.
When a storm-cloud shrouds the sun,
shadows flicker over our eyelids.
Poppies partly close,
reopening when the sun again
takes center stage.
Inspired, we climb a fantasy ladder,
enter an alabaster mansion, explore
as painters, poets, dancers of the sky.
Look, snowy mountains, brooks
wildflowers and summer lakes.
We will ourselves back to earth,
knowing everything exists
masterfully in flux.
CROSSES
We all bear burdens.
Some crosses outweigh the person,
flatten him/her into a crocodile
or a communion wafer,
while cares the size of matchsticks
nearly blow away in winds of laughter.
Today over the back fence
my neighbor’s cross glared neon-red;
My burdens are worse than yours!
When my self-pity rose to compete,
we both lost, and the fence grew taller.
To render crosses into bearable size,
some use a hatchet, risk injury.
Others may float cares away in rivers
of pills and alcohol, or one can swat-swat
like mosquitos…Some artists transfer
snarlies into works of art.
Elders, hey, often choose a do-it-all
Swiss army knife, honing themselves
into pure patience, then carve
calmly away, until options pop up
like wild daisies.
We all bear burdens.
Some crosses outweigh the person,
flatten him/her into a crocodile
or a communion wafer,
while cares the size of matchsticks
nearly blow away in winds of laughter.
Today over the back fence
my neighbor’s cross glared neon-red;
My burdens are worse than yours!
When my self-pity rose to compete,
we both lost, and the fence grew taller.
To render crosses into bearable size,
some use a hatchet, risk injury.
Others may float cares away in rivers
of pills and alcohol, or one can swat-swat
like mosquitos…Some artists transfer
snarlies into works of art.
Elders, hey, often choose a do-it-all
Swiss army knife, honing themselves
into pure patience, then carve
calmly away, until options pop up
like wild daisies.
ONE COOKING LESSON
remembering Najla
An Arabic friend shows me
how she washes and sifts her lentils
in a colander. Then I relate:
California gold seekers scooped
stream water and sand
into shallow pans and swirled
the water away, leaving
golden specks, a few nuggets.
Nodding, she keeps on cooking
a Lebanese dish, too difficult
to pronounce: cracked wheat #4,
onions and more onions,
plus 45 minutes’ heat; the taste
& nourishment we enjoyed
pure gold in any language.
remembering Najla
An Arabic friend shows me
how she washes and sifts her lentils
in a colander. Then I relate:
California gold seekers scooped
stream water and sand
into shallow pans and swirled
the water away, leaving
golden specks, a few nuggets.
Nodding, she keeps on cooking
a Lebanese dish, too difficult
to pronounce: cracked wheat #4,
onions and more onions,
plus 45 minutes’ heat; the taste
& nourishment we enjoyed
pure gold in any language.
HOPE
Now I’m activating
the five chimes in each
of my hope-hearing aids—
the same first five
notes of Liszt’s
Un Sospiro, a sigh.
Now I’m activating
the five chimes in each
of my hope-hearing aids—
the same first five
notes of Liszt’s
Un Sospiro, a sigh.
WHO?
Hearing an owl in a
nearby tree, we mimic
his mournful hoooos.
Who, who, indeed?
The cat-eared papoose
ignores our calls,
wings west
in a stark ascent
into colorful stratas
of sunset. Is the owl
looking for God,
Gabriel or whoooo?
Hearing an owl in a
nearby tree, we mimic
his mournful hoooos.
Who, who, indeed?
The cat-eared papoose
ignores our calls,
wings west
in a stark ascent
into colorful stratas
of sunset. Is the owl
looking for God,
Gabriel or whoooo?
PAUL’S SCARLET
On a stroll,
I inhale Paul’s rose—
incense from Omar
Khayyam’s caravansary;
cedar & cinnamon
from a forest chosen
for meditation, tender
small-creature burials.
Like a sparrow
dipping its beak
into & up from
concentric circles
in a bird bath, I inhale
Paul’s rose. In pausing,
—serendipity—
the redolent rose inhales me.
On a stroll,
I inhale Paul’s rose—
incense from Omar
Khayyam’s caravansary;
cedar & cinnamon
from a forest chosen
for meditation, tender
small-creature burials.
Like a sparrow
dipping its beak
into & up from
concentric circles
in a bird bath, I inhale
Paul’s rose. In pausing,
—serendipity—
the redolent rose inhales me.
TABULA RASA
Two Latin words:
tablet erased, mind cleared,
begin afresh.
Astronauts collect specimens
on the moon, zoom back
to planet earth, land
safely on a placid sea.
Tabula rasa, Moon & Sea.
Images in flux change
faster than a blink.
Sleep provides respite,
rest, restoration,
Tabula rasa, Sleep.
A stupid war finally ends.
Dignitaries gather round
a table, treaty signed &
witnessed; the world ahs.
Tabula rasa, Peace.
When meditating
beside a still pond, serenity
rows by on dragonfly wings,
iridescent like inspiration.
Tabula rasa, Dragonfly.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
WHEN SHE
—Claire J. Baker
brushed
away
a snail’s
wake, silver
appeared
on broom straw—
nature’s
cellophane.
__________________
Always a pleasure to hear from our Bay Area neighbor, Claire Baker, a much-published, long-time poet who brings us images of peace, and the hope that we can all do better.
Tonight is Poetry Nt. in Davis with readers Barbara Ruth Saunders and Rick Lupert, 8-9pm. Check it out at ucdavisdss.zoom.us/my/andyojones/. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/441363216914683/?acontext={"source"%3A"29"%2C"ref_notif_type"%3A"plan_user_invited"%2C"action_history"%3A"null"}¬if_id=1612247157992932¬if_t=plan_user_invited&ref=notif/
To learn about creating a dragonfly pond, go to www.gardenfundamentals.com/creating-dragonfly-pond/.
____________________
—Medusa
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clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
