Dark Angel
—Poetry by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Chris Feldman
MY SELF IS NOT EVIL
I thought to deny my self
took Christian teachings and
Mom’s harsh reprimands of
You’re so selfish! to heart
sought to escape it through drugs
gluttony then starved glamour
to sacrifice it, working to please others
yielding my heart in love, my body in sex
chased the ideals of
selfless service, unconditional love
without first understanding
and loving my self
having been brought to my knees
my back, my belly
having cried in fear
fasted, renounced—
I’ve finally fallen in love with my self
in all its righteous, healthy
beautiful aspects
body, mind, soul, and spirit
in the quiet between breaths
I lean back in my mind
looking out from a recliner
in the center of my skull
my soul steady, open
God is present
eager to converse
varicolored, splendid
I thought to deny my self
took Christian teachings and
Mom’s harsh reprimands of
You’re so selfish! to heart
sought to escape it through drugs
gluttony then starved glamour
to sacrifice it, working to please others
yielding my heart in love, my body in sex
chased the ideals of
selfless service, unconditional love
without first understanding
and loving my self
having been brought to my knees
my back, my belly
having cried in fear
fasted, renounced—
I’ve finally fallen in love with my self
in all its righteous, healthy
beautiful aspects
body, mind, soul, and spirit
in the quiet between breaths
I lean back in my mind
looking out from a recliner
in the center of my skull
my soul steady, open
God is present
eager to converse
varicolored, splendid
Woman by Gerd Altmann
—Public Domain Image from Pixabay
YOGA AT MIDNIGHT
warm yellow moon outside
my dark room
sleepless at midnight
I stand like a mountain
breathe into my abdomen
lift my arms, stretch overhead
bend forward from my hips
melt toward worn carpet
hang for awhile
fingertips trail on the floor
then slowly unfold back to standing
well past middle age
I marvel at the gift
of dancing with myself
the Universe and God
at midnight, in the moonlight
Showtime
HONESTY
how can a woman maintain the image
so carefully cultivated, society’s recipe
just the right clothes, hair, weight
a good bra, closely shaved legs
nice shoes, make-up, jewelry
demure tone of voice
brainwashed since girlhood
when can a girl breathe
what if she burps, passes gas, vomits
sweats, cries, bleeds
how does she live
when she has sold herself based on artifice
is there ever a moment
of honesty, truth, or happiness
how does she avoid suffocation
in a doll’s house of society’s expectations
Deluge St.
METAMORPHOSIS
(After watching Dune, 2021)
people filed in ahead of time
coughing, bringing in the cold, wet leaves on street shoes, boots
compelled, they came in couples, some alone, families with kids
sneaked snacks, chatted, leaned back in their loungers
the show played at the theater
and streamed from home screens, available to all
people quieted, unsure of what to expect
some had read the book long ago, but most had not since reading was hard
preferring images, sounds, the shows that filled their minds
this show was entertainment yet something more
cities gray megalithic blocks of stone, tan deserts undulating waves
tsunamis of sound without words, without harmony, deep bell tones, keening
people watched, listened, felt the message beyond words
a powerful opening, freeing
suddenly the theatre became dark inside, home streaming shows stopped
one-hundred-year storm cracked open the sky, deluged the city, power out for hours
in the theater, ushers with flashlights helped the people out and to their cars
those at home grinned, put logs on fires, wrapped in blankets, waited out the storm
next day dawned clear, tree branches down everywhere, reservoir full
people scratched their heads, unsure of the message of the show
that had stopped halfway through, never resumed, unfinished
yet its purpose was realized
in the people’s minds, hearts opened by sound, sight
they knew, shrugged, went forth changed
discussions turned to invitations, plans being made
potlucks, community feasts, shared gardens’ last fruits, the holidays coming soon
white toenail moon grinned overhead in clear, cool night sky
Liminal Passageway #1
Today’s LittleNip:
BLUE GREEN
—Ann Wehrman
blue liminal and
green, a cobalt sky touches
spring’s electric grass
Liminal Passageway #2
__________________________
Today, (Sat. 11/27), 2pm: Poetry of the Sierra Foothills (Poetry is Gold in El Dorado County!) celebrates Native American Heritage Day with featured poet Stephen Meadows plus open mic. Love Birds Coffee & Tea Co., 4181 Hwy 49, Diamond Springs (where Hwy 49 meets Pleasant Valley Rd.). Host: Lara Gularte.
__________________________
—Medusa, with thanks to collaborators Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman for today’s fine presentation, with their striking poems and visuals! Collaborations are always welcome in Medusa's Kitchen!
Poetry is Gold in El Dorado County!
—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.
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!
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!
