—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
—Poetry by
Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz)
Harold Asner
Joe Nolan
Michael Ceraolo
BODY PARTS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
‘Run’, scream, ‘Run, as fast as you can’,
the stuff of nightmare, bedtime read,
tagline beyond the chase, tag named,
for traybake rising, come to life.
What do you bite first, from the plate,
head or arm, or lick the face?
The taste for horror, plot in place,
slow dough spare shaped, runaway bake.
The gingerbread man sounds off-course,
like pied piper, Hameln seduced,
primaeval fears, child stolen, lost,
who is at fault, the baker, baked?
Is our creation tearaway?
Exotic spice to tantalise,
pods cardamom mixed turmeric,
tanned tawny cut out, flex or snap,
why has this fable taken root,
myth or legend, class of its own?
With piping portrait, iced on top,
burnt umber background, colour scheme,
some shock of hair, wound solenoid,
a cupric under Verdigris,
I see adoption, action groups,
to stir some spirit from the grey,
add zest, to the complacent, start,
and jump the system into gear.
Adrenalin for fight or fright,
seep enzymes stinging under tongue,
all consuming, we’ve gained control,
but at the price of eating lad.
I’m still uneasy, chomping head,
always study the limbless form,
thankful that this lopsided son,
mouth melts, duly, ceases to be.
I guess, for cook, a complement,
for me, unsure, old guilt so sweet?
Of course, at party time, delight,
and no one cares from where it came,
but hear shrill, thrill, eat body parts.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
‘Run’, scream, ‘Run, as fast as you can’,
the stuff of nightmare, bedtime read,
tagline beyond the chase, tag named,
for traybake rising, come to life.
What do you bite first, from the plate,
head or arm, or lick the face?
The taste for horror, plot in place,
slow dough spare shaped, runaway bake.
The gingerbread man sounds off-course,
like pied piper, Hameln seduced,
primaeval fears, child stolen, lost,
who is at fault, the baker, baked?
Is our creation tearaway?
Exotic spice to tantalise,
pods cardamom mixed turmeric,
tanned tawny cut out, flex or snap,
why has this fable taken root,
myth or legend, class of its own?
With piping portrait, iced on top,
burnt umber background, colour scheme,
some shock of hair, wound solenoid,
a cupric under Verdigris,
I see adoption, action groups,
to stir some spirit from the grey,
add zest, to the complacent, start,
and jump the system into gear.
Adrenalin for fight or fright,
seep enzymes stinging under tongue,
all consuming, we’ve gained control,
but at the price of eating lad.
I’m still uneasy, chomping head,
always study the limbless form,
thankful that this lopsided son,
mouth melts, duly, ceases to be.
I guess, for cook, a complement,
for me, unsure, old guilt so sweet?
Of course, at party time, delight,
and no one cares from where it came,
but hear shrill, thrill, eat body parts.
—Photo by Caschwa
SEED GARDEN
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
the wrath of impatient
opening skies, blowing
beer cans and paper plates
always chasing buses
the world gone upside down
as if too much sunlight
would injure our ginger
to Hell with it! angry winter
nights in the city are just
the new normal, says our
114-year-old house
—Photo by Caschwa
DON’T KNOW WHAT’S MISSING
—Caschwa
rode a horse all of one time in my
over 7 decades on this Earth, and
don’t have a clue how to saddle one
looked it up online and found the process
is comprised of at least 13 different steps,
each loaded with glaring new vocabulary,
and carrying the prerequisite of calling into
play some muscle groups that have never
before received any messages from my
brain to apply to a task
compare to reading books, where everybody
already knows how to number the pages, but
they do that for you anyway, like it really, really
matters to the reader to have a page-by-page
epiphany: “Page 23, ah yes, I knew that!
Ergo, I’m on the same page as the award-
winning expert author whose name is featured
on the cover.”
—Photo by Caschwa
WHY?
—Harold Asner, Overland Park, KS
When sending young men off to war
Tell them what they’re fighting for
At first they may believe the lies
About a training exercise
The fact is that one man’s ambition
Is the reason for this mission
Soldiers blindly taking orders
Begin invading sovereign borders
It seems that no one in command
Knows why they’re in their neighbors’ land
The battle plan has many flaws
Men at war with no just cause
Soon these lads might lose the will
To shoot and bomb and maim and kill
A weary soldier asks, “Once more,
What is it we’re fighting for?”
Having received no clear reply
He soldiers on, not knowing why,
To kill his brothers, perhaps to die
—Harold Asner, Overland Park, KS
When sending young men off to war
Tell them what they’re fighting for
At first they may believe the lies
About a training exercise
The fact is that one man’s ambition
Is the reason for this mission
Soldiers blindly taking orders
Begin invading sovereign borders
It seems that no one in command
Knows why they’re in their neighbors’ land
The battle plan has many flaws
Men at war with no just cause
Soon these lads might lose the will
To shoot and bomb and maim and kill
A weary soldier asks, “Once more,
What is it we’re fighting for?”
Having received no clear reply
He soldiers on, not knowing why,
To kill his brothers, perhaps to die
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
WHAT IS THIS FOR?
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
To take a stab
At vague ambivalence...
Abnormal shadings
Play in shadow’s faint embrace;
Halfway home,
We wonder if we’ll even get there...
Somewhere,
Along a winding forest road,
We find ourselves
Looking into someone else’s woods
Wondering if we’ll
Ever have time
To ourselves—
If anyone would let us,
Anymore,
Now that things are how they are,
Where people worship weapons
Instead of conciliation.
Must we always push
For more and more,
At the risk of war?
Crushing into each other’s boundaries,
We claim we have the right
To make it so the other
Has no room to live or to breathe,
Even though the other
Has massive numbers
Of nuclear weapons
Up his sleeve,
Enough to kill us all
In just an hour?
What is this for?
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
To take a stab
At vague ambivalence...
Abnormal shadings
Play in shadow’s faint embrace;
Halfway home,
We wonder if we’ll even get there...
Somewhere,
Along a winding forest road,
We find ourselves
Looking into someone else’s woods
Wondering if we’ll
Ever have time
To ourselves—
If anyone would let us,
Anymore,
Now that things are how they are,
Where people worship weapons
Instead of conciliation.
Must we always push
For more and more,
At the risk of war?
Crushing into each other’s boundaries,
We claim we have the right
To make it so the other
Has no room to live or to breathe,
Even though the other
Has massive numbers
Of nuclear weapons
Up his sleeve,
Enough to kill us all
In just an hour?
What is this for?
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
HOW DESPERATE ARE WE?
—Joe Nolan
If,
By conventional arms,
We could hold
Each other at bay,
Would we, then,
Nuke each other,
So each
Could have his way?
How desperate,
Really,
Are we?
How ready to kill and destroy?
By which means of mass-destruction?
How easy to deploy?
—Joe Nolan
If,
By conventional arms,
We could hold
Each other at bay,
Would we, then,
Nuke each other,
So each
Could have his way?
How desperate,
Really,
Are we?
How ready to kill and destroy?
By which means of mass-destruction?
How easy to deploy?
—Public Domain Photo
THIS WAY AND THAT WAY
—Joe Nolan
Have you ever
Had a lover
Who went this way
And that way
And this way
And that way
As though
Love's a waltz?
If you’ve ever
Had a lover
Who went this way
And that way
And this way
And that way,
Then you know
How much
Love can cost.
—Joe Nolan
Have you ever
Had a lover
Who went this way
And that way
And this way
And that way
As though
Love's a waltz?
If you’ve ever
Had a lover
Who went this way
And that way
And this way
And that way,
Then you know
How much
Love can cost.
—Public Domain Photo (Trucker Spirit) by Joe Nolan
NOT ACTUALLY PRESENT
—Joe Nolan
We’re not
Actually present.
We only appear,
Online.
We’re prone
To disappear,
For many
Different reasons.
How can you make
Any claim
Against a phantom,
“Maxx Headroom,”
Off somewhere
In cyberspace,
Cultivating a personal image,
To stand in place, in place.
Without any personal trace?
—Joe Nolan
We’re not
Actually present.
We only appear,
Online.
We’re prone
To disappear,
For many
Different reasons.
How can you make
Any claim
Against a phantom,
“Maxx Headroom,”
Off somewhere
In cyberspace,
Cultivating a personal image,
To stand in place, in place.
Without any personal trace?
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
FADING INTO SNOW
—Joe Nolan
Why come floating clouds
Without a whisper?
Dementia setting in,
Without an overt sign.
Smiling in a rocking chair—
A picture of contentment.
The lights are on,
But no one’s home.
Soon, off to hospice
He will go.
They will mind him
And watch him,
Fading, gray to white,
Into snow.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
PROPOSED CHANGE
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Report of the Committee on Cliches:
WHEREAS
the adage
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach,
though applicable in certain instances,
is demonstrably untrue in far more,
the following is proposed to replace it:
Those who can't teach become education bureaucrats
_______________________
Our thanks to today’s poets for starting off our Monday with their thoughts and talents, mostly about Ukraine (don’t say “the Ukraine; it’s now “Ukraine”—heavy.com/news/ukraine-not-the-ukraine/). Some of these poets have ties to Ukraine, such as Harold Asner and his mother’s family.
About his poem, “Don’t Know What’s Missing”, Caschwa writes, “I know all about the emphasis elementary schools place on rote repetition. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen any programs or lessons or other classroom training dealing with the next step, which is to help and encourage kids to think independently.”
On a lighter note, Stephen Kingsnorth is responding to our Seed of the Week, Ginger, as is Caschwa (“injure our ginger”). See our post tomorrow (and every Tuesday) for our new Seed of the Week.
National Poetry Month starts this Friday, April 1! Mark your calendars and go to poets.org/national-poetry-month for all the scoop and skinny from Academy of American Poets about “30 Ways to Celebrate National Poetry Month“, including Poem-a-Day, Poem in Your Pocket Day, and how to obtain a free National Poetry Month poster.
•••Tonight (Mon. (3/28), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center Socially Distant Verse features Maureen O’Leary and Tom Goff plus open mic. Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. (Meeting ID: 763 873 3462 / pass: r3trnofsdv/.) Info: www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/.
•••For info about El Dorado County poetry events, check Western Slope El Dorado on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/.
_____________________
—Medusa
•••For info about El Dorado County poetry events, check Western Slope El Dorado on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/.
_____________________
—Medusa
This elephant picked up a baby lion who was dehydrated
and carried it to the nearest water—
showing we CAN all help each other, actually…
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
