Magnificat

—Poetry by Marie Asner, Stephen Kingsnorth, 

Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), Michael Ceraolo, and Joe Nolan

—This Photo Courtesy of Public Domain

DAY BEFORE SPRING
—Marie Asner, Overland Park, KS

Our kayaks float like feathers into the icy current.
See the wind move through sullen branches
as we pass the hanging basswood tree
that wants to touch us with frost
still clinging to bark. Here, the North Country
whispers of change to come,
but today is not the day to begin planning
in green, instead of cold white.
Ahead of schedule, we button our water gear
and glide into river mist with stars
still on the horizon waiting for the sun’s cue
to disappear, but clouds decide to wait a day.

 

 

 

 —Photo by Katy Brown, Davis, CA 

SKY BALL
—Marie Asner                   
 
Sky takes shallow breaths in anticipation,
then begins to fold itself tightly
as a backdrop for bouncing lightning.
People wave to each other as they look at the clouds
and know what is to come. Wind tells angels
to stay home tonight and have a cup of tea.
Sun exits by way of a hilltop, slowly closing the blinds.
In the backyard, our favorite locust tree
has gathered its branches and now stands
straight as a telephone pole, afraid to move a leaf.
Wind decides to blow from the North,
not alerting anyone of his decision,
sending cloudlets scurrying to hide
behind thunderheads, who lace up for the real game.
 
Evening, just around the corner, delays a bit
and lets the show begin ahead of schedule,
with tree tops murmuring in despair
of broken branches to come. Percussion warms up
in the distance, a signal for slowly growing tulips
to hide under dry leaves from the past autumn.
Stars take their lanterns and stay at a
respectable distance, taking notes
for their annual meeting, knowing
that the electrical wattage in the universe
will have a run for its money tonight.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

 

IMPATIENS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK

I see it in inpatient queues,
elective surgery slow paced,
the waiting list, through weighted, missed,
most urgent, like a triage test,
thrown front, on cue, in overtake.

Does disease know its time still runs,
dis-ease, unease of hip, knee bone—
not dancing to patella groove—
disjointed frame, like Jacob’s limp,
when joined-up links might set the joints.

But wear and tear not creep flesh eat,
so patient wait while water plant,
an in-joke from my neighbour shared,
impatiens spreading by my chair,
and far worse scene on TV screen.

That operating theatre
of war, on list as ‘special op’,
though know so far from surgical,
for hospitals, as rouble, lie
in rubble, basement gas, air, fire.

If education, health, a right,
and not the privilege of wealth,
then we have found a commonwealth
fit any age or tribe or tongue,
the rites of man in passage, time.

Now that is where impatience, gold,
when dispossessed and refugee
must suffer through the pride of might.
We wait, their put-down from their seat,
well-being shared, Magnficat. 

 

 

 

Carousel

—Painting by Olexandr Murashko, 1906 (Ukraine)

 

CAROUSEL
—Stephen Kingsnorth

What do we see in retrospect,
when ironies are flung about,
through fall, the rise of empires checked,
or icons, in their life or death?
As if all care is cast away,
these riding girls, with costumed grace,
enjoy the fair ground where they play,
one loose to sway, one knotted scarf.

I learned today Volodymyr,
cathedral city, saint of Kyiv,
was by this artist’s Dad revered,
in icon workshop, worship site.
So Olexondr painted too,
Carousel, prize of gold award;
but died, abducted, street gang coup,
shot in the back—what turnabout.

How brief may be this lazy date,
as if this frame were fixed by lens,
when unsuspected twist of hate,
takes over reins and rides away.
A debauchee, by name translate,
RasPutin’s claim, spell Russia cast—
‘rebirth through sin’ his credal state—
haemophilia, lone can staunch. 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Caschwa

 

ANTIPOSED
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

on one side is the blunt force
and poison of lead, magisterial
ammunition for mercenary squads,
platoons, troops, battalions,
brigades, and regiments

on the other side is the artistry of
leadership, prudent, purposeful
composition of all the necessary
elements to achieve a venerable
goal, despite great odds 

 

 

 

Staycation Cruiser
—Photo by Caschwa

 

 

BLANKETS OF TRUTH
—Caschwa

confession to achieve
the outcome of making
an oppressor back off

blushing skies
baring their
understorms

cogito, ergo
I vote my mind
not your spin
 
breathing is a
crime, punishable
by lung failure

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

THE COUNTRY THAT CRIED WOLF
—Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH

Henry Adams, Woodrow Wilson, Harry Truman,
Joe McCarthy, Dwight Eisenhower, John Kennedy,
Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan et al.

For over a century the cry has been
The Russians are coming!  The Russians are coming!
(whether then or at a later date never specified)

And then when the wolf warned the world
it was going to invade its neighbor,
and did so,
                   the country
didn't encourage its citizens
to leave the wolf's country
until it was perhaps too late

 

 

 

—Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

SHOW, DON’T TELL
—Michael Ceraolo

(A Zoom poetry reading
with half a dozen or so poets
taking turns reading one poem at a time)

 

And when hecklers hacked into the meeting,
one of the poets,
                          a legend in his own mind,
felt compelled to say several time
that he was heckled often
because of his superior knowledge
obtained from a half-century of serious study

The only time he demonstrated
his superior knowledge was when
he called his own poetry doggerel 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

A JAY-BIRD’S JIG
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

I watched a jay-bird
Wash himself
In puddles on the lawn.

Spritely splashing
Beads of water
Tossed about the air.

It seemed as though
He liked to play
In morning’s bright sunshine
Bobbing up and down
Like an Irish jig.

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

SNOW-LEOPARDS
—Joe Nolan

Even when the world is dangerous,
Winds, strong,
Waves, high,
Knocks, hard,

Exposed and vulnerable,
Hawks in the sky,
Predators, aground,

Some clouds may disappear,
But maybe not enough
To get you safely home
Beneath a storm.

Sometimes, too, the Earth may shake,
More than you thought it could,
Just when you’re putting the crystal away,
Stepping down from your short house-ladder,
Balance startles and you have no base,
No way to link your present with your future.
Some days, you have to be
Far more ready than you know.

Snow-leopards survive
On the flesh of mountain goats,
Year after year,
In winter and summer.

First, in quiet vigil,
Looking down in icy silence
From boulders on the mountainside
They plan a path of approach
Then leap across the land
Like rolling thunder.

Mountain-goats may run and run,
But cannot get away
From beasts that would
Devour them
On cold, gray mountain days. 

 

 

 

Golgotha
—Photo by Katy Brown

 

THE GRIEVING DEAD
—Joe Nolan

Only the dead are safe
From further humiliation.

Resting safely in their graves,
They hear of wars between nations,

From echoes of jack-boots,
That ring through the ground,
And shocks
From exploding bombs.

Only the dead are safe
From war and humiliation,
Delivered to peasants
Who get in the way
Of armies marching to war,
Rushing to borders
To get off the scenes
Of brand-new battlegrounds.

The dead rest in peace,
But listen, they, still
And grieve they, still,
For the living,
Tortured by brothers and sisters.

 

 

 

Camouflaged Sniper (can you see him?)
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

WHEN, WAR?
—Joe Nolan

When inner-light
Is shadow-bound,
Collapses come,
Round after round,
Reason to hope
Is rarely found
And general decline
Brings everything down,
They will send you off to war
To give them a “What for.”

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo by Joe Nolan

 

FLAMES
—Joe Nolan

Each flame
Burns brightly
By itself.

All flames
Are burning
All together
All at once,
Sharing the
Essence of fire.

 

 

 

—Photo by Katy Brown

 

Today’s LittleNip:

NOCTURNAL POETICS
—Joe Nolan

Attached to the stars
Are those who play
With words,
At night;

Alone in the darkness,
Before candlelight,
Spreading black ink
Onto paper.

____________________

Yesterday was the Spring Equinox for 2022; Medusa celebrated it by going to Innisfree. Among the many fine poems and photos in the Kitchen this morning are poems about Spring; about our Seed of the Week (Impatience); and about the Ukraine. Events in the Ukraine seem to be on the minds of a lot of our poets, as judged by today’s work. Poets of all nationalities are moved by the horrors of war, of course. Here is one list of such poems from the Academy of American Poets (poets.org): poets.org/text/poems-about-war/.

 

 

 

 

 

•••Tonight (Mon., 3/21), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center Socially Distant Verse features Marjorie Maddox and Lois Roma-Deeley plus open mic. Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. (Meeting ID: 763 873 3462; password: r3trnofsdv/.) Info: www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/.

•••Fri. (3/25), 7-8:30pm: el gigante presents The Creative Writing Faculty at Sacramento City College (Steve Cirrone, Jeff Knorr, Troy Myers, Danny Romero) plus open mic on Zoom at cccconfer.zoom.us/j/9348057923/. Host: Danny Romero. For more information about el gigante, go to  romerod@scc.losrios.edu/.

•••Sat. (3/26), 2pm: Poetry of the Sierra Foothills features Dianna McKinnon Henning and Lara Gularte plus open mic. Love Birds Coffee & Tea Co., 4181 Hwy 49, Diamond Springs, CA (where Hwy 49 meets Pleasant Valley Rd.). Host: Lara Gularte.

 

 

 

 

 •••April 15 is the deadline for poems to be submitted to the annual Dancing Poetry Contest, presented by Artists Embassy International and the Poetry Dance Theater Company. See www.dancingpoetry.com for details.

__________________

—Medusa (reminding you to take deep breaths and think about the magnificence of Spring. Magnificat!)

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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“Attached to the stars . . .”