How Things Can Change
—Poetry and Photos by Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
FULL MOON IN POND THROUGH TREES
WHEN IT BEGINS TO RAIN
Two drops of rain make use of stillness
to explain how things can change—
be taken from themselves :
the way the water holds
the rippled light—the drowning trees
the way the quiet pond becomes
an agitation where the startled moon
must watch its roundness quiver—
lose the vanity of its perfection.
(prev. pub. in Ekphrasis, 2004)
WHEN IT BEGINS TO RAIN
Two drops of rain make use of stillness
to explain how things can change—
be taken from themselves :
the way the water holds
the rippled light—the drowning trees
the way the quiet pond becomes
an agitation where the startled moon
must watch its roundness quiver—
lose the vanity of its perfection.
(prev. pub. in Ekphrasis, 2004)
With the Shadows
THE MOON CIRCLE
Death is dancing with the maiden in the moonlight.
He has made a ring of light for them to dance in.
She lifts the hoop of light
and dances away from him.
He is left standing in the circle
where he is powerless to follow.
She has stolen the power of his intention
with her refusal, and thus has transcended
both light and dark. Death waits—and waits—
until she is through dancing and will return to him.
Death is dancing with the maiden in the moonlight.
He has made a ring of light for them to dance in.
She lifts the hoop of light
and dances away from him.
He is left standing in the circle
where he is powerless to follow.
She has stolen the power of his intention
with her refusal, and thus has transcended
both light and dark. Death waits—and waits—
until she is through dancing and will return to him.
This Mind's Abyss
MOON-TRANCE
Whatever is dark here is dark for itself.
The freed form merges and will sleep.
The dream
will be released—ensweep
the mind
and send its secrets deep.
The moon of power
will retreat—
allowing the mind distortion
of what surrounding dream-clouds keep.
______________________
OLD MOONS
The moon comes up each night and floats
across the sky,
I am that sleepless one who stares
and marvels why.
Full moons leave me wandering
the mind’s abyss
where I explore my restless thoughts—
that endless list.
Alas, for all those dark-moon nights
when life enshrouds—
those nights that let no moonlight through
night’s burdened clouds
Whatever is dark here is dark for itself.
The freed form merges and will sleep.
The dream
will be released—ensweep
the mind
and send its secrets deep.
The moon of power
will retreat—
allowing the mind distortion
of what surrounding dream-clouds keep.
______________________
OLD MOONS
The moon comes up each night and floats
across the sky,
I am that sleepless one who stares
and marvels why.
Full moons leave me wandering
the mind’s abyss
where I explore my restless thoughts—
that endless list.
Alas, for all those dark-moon nights
when life enshrouds—
those nights that let no moonlight through
night’s burdened clouds
In the Dimness
FULL MOON LAMENT
Today they cart the moon away
for it is heavy
and night is through with it.
It was a pale moon after all…
no match for dawn with its slow insistence
and gray intensity.
The rooster knows.
All night he tried to tell us while we slept.
He crowed and crowed.
How far we have come depends on love
and how much more we need of it…
like this moon…fading into thinnest silver.
(prev. pub. in CSPS Newsletter, 1995;
One Dog Press, 1997; Sr. Magazine, 2002)
Today they cart the moon away
for it is heavy
and night is through with it.
It was a pale moon after all…
no match for dawn with its slow insistence
and gray intensity.
The rooster knows.
All night he tried to tell us while we slept.
He crowed and crowed.
How far we have come depends on love
and how much more we need of it…
like this moon…fading into thinnest silver.
(prev. pub. in CSPS Newsletter, 1995;
One Dog Press, 1997; Sr. Magazine, 2002)
Dark Darkens
THE FULL MOON HANGS SO LOW
THE DARKNESS OPENS
trees of white bend and make their motion
in the surrealistic whiteness
of their dance
old women move in memory—
their tethered forms soul-caught against
the shadowy landscape quiverings—
and they dance together—the women and
the trees—interchanging in the light
which startles them
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2011)
___________________
MAD-MOON DANCE
First I dance with you.
And then I dance alone.
Then I dance with the man
and then
another man.
Then I dance with the woman.
And then I dance
with the other two women together
as we whirl the child.
Then I dance alone again;
I dance
with the dying moon;
I dance
with the whirling ground
and with the spinning trees.
Then I dance with
the men, and the men, and the men
who dance me again until I fall.
And the moon falls with me.
And the trees
dance on with the shadows.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2011)
THE DARKNESS OPENS
trees of white bend and make their motion
in the surrealistic whiteness
of their dance
old women move in memory—
their tethered forms soul-caught against
the shadowy landscape quiverings—
and they dance together—the women and
the trees—interchanging in the light
which startles them
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2011)
___________________
MAD-MOON DANCE
First I dance with you.
And then I dance alone.
Then I dance with the man
and then
another man.
Then I dance with the woman.
And then I dance
with the other two women together
as we whirl the child.
Then I dance alone again;
I dance
with the dying moon;
I dance
with the whirling ground
and with the spinning trees.
Then I dance with
the men, and the men, and the men
who dance me again until I fall.
And the moon falls with me.
And the trees
dance on with the shadows.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2011)
Dark Moon Nights
A MOCKERY OF MOONS
After Frederick Childe Hassam's July Night, 1898
Six moons made of balloons
float through the dim garden.
Six balloons of orange and green
hang and sway from the branches.
A leafy sound in the dimness
flickers against the shadows.
A lone woman walks with thoughts
that glint like fireflies.
Maybe someone is watching her—
maybe no one is there.
She is but a silhouette
in the weak light from the porch.
The moon floats alone in the winter sky,
takes no notice of the six balloons.
The woman wears a light evening shawl
and wanders slowly toward the porch.
After Frederick Childe Hassam's July Night, 1898
Six moons made of balloons
float through the dim garden.
Six balloons of orange and green
hang and sway from the branches.
A leafy sound in the dimness
flickers against the shadows.
A lone woman walks with thoughts
that glint like fireflies.
Maybe someone is watching her—
maybe no one is there.
She is but a silhouette
in the weak light from the porch.
The moon floats alone in the winter sky,
takes no notice of the six balloons.
The woman wears a light evening shawl
and wanders slowly toward the porch.
The Darkness Opens
WHITE SCARECROW IN MOONLIGHT
Oh—the ghost in the cornfield—in the
night—under the full moon it loves,
does a white-moon-dance with its
sleeves from its fixed position
though it tries to leap freely from its ties.
Oh—it shudders and cries
with its wind-hollow voice
and beacons its eyes to the eyes
of the windows. It knows there are
watchers there who admire it
and it flaps and moans the louder
until it is even more of a rag.
And tomorrow it will deny all this.
Tomorrow it will merely flutter
from inside out and simply hang
on a stick like a farmer’s joke
and twitch back at the crows.
(prev. pub. in Medusa's Kitchen, 2011)
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
FULL MOON AND PALM
—Joyce Odam
Said the palm to the rising moon,
it is strange up here
and you so far below me . . .”
Said the moon to the elevated palm,
and you there…? and me here?
it is only your perspective . . .”
______________________
Good morning from Medusa and the moon, and thanks to Joyce Odam for her musings on our Seed of the Week: Stories of the Full Moon. Our new Seed of the Week is “Mothers”. 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.
To see Frederick Childe Hassam's July Night, 1898, and for more about the artist and his work, go to www.wikiart.org/en/childe-hassam/july-night/.
______________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
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.
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
