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An Old Refrain
—Poetry and Original Art by Joyce Odam,
Sacramento, CA
KITCHEN DAY-DREAM
wrapped in music she goes deep—
goes deep
into her own
composing heart
how long ago is love—
how far away is time—
her eyes glaze
to a distant stare
someone is there,
evolving
into a familiar sadness
they embrace, the music dies away
wrapped in music she goes deep—
goes deep
into her own
composing heart
how long ago is love—
how far away is time—
her eyes glaze
to a distant stare
someone is there,
evolving
into a familiar sadness
they embrace, the music dies away
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Old Secrets
LINK
It was never for loss, we flurried.
It was love, only contradiction.
It was only this—and the other.
What was never, was ever,
and the only face
that knew what it was to disappear.
Even the vanities that appear as wonder
can lead into and into the mirror—
even the vanities.
Only the center is the where and when.
Sometimes we can pick up the trace again
of clue and direction.
It was never for loss, we flurried.
It was love, only contradiction.
It was only this—and the other.
What was never, was ever,
and the only face
that knew what it was to disappear.
Even the vanities that appear as wonder
can lead into and into the mirror—
even the vanities.
Only the center is the where and when.
Sometimes we can pick up the trace again
of clue and direction.
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Facing You
THE LONG QUARREL
No morning kiss. Each wants the other different. He
No morning kiss. Each wants the other different. He
is verbal; she is mute—Jack Spratt and wife, at odds
—both wanting lean; both wanting fat. No com-
promise. Love is a word on a sampler—her old
needlework. Their habits hold them together for the
sake of the mirror, streaked with tears. No morning
kiss. They manage to cough apart. Lukewarm cups
of coffee warm each sullen mouth. In little scraps
around them : the morning paper, the unfinished
poetry, news and clues—both reading different
meanings into each, inter-merging into different
meanings into each, inter-merging into different
rooms.
__________________
THE NEWLYWEDS
when they were deep in kiss
when we were invited guests
who sat awhile
and sipped some wine
while they kissed
two in one chair
so deep of love— so free of us
while they were kissing . . .
__________________
THE NEWLYWEDS
when they were deep in kiss
when we were invited guests
who sat awhile
and sipped some wine
while they kissed
two in one chair
so deep of love— so free of us
while they were kissing . . .
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From Whence the Illusion
SKIT
love is the fool
I am its audience
it does what makes me laugh
cry
applaud
it postures about on the stage
in mimicry
it believes in itself
it tells me I am its tender fool
its terrible person
the reason it suffers
__________________
TO LOVE
one kiss upon the brow,
a token of love,
to interrupt
the sigh
the kiss
is wine enough
this is too much
to bear
eyes close
to word or touch
a token of love—
one kiss upon the brow.
love is the fool
I am its audience
it does what makes me laugh
cry
applaud
it postures about on the stage
in mimicry
it believes in itself
it tells me I am its tender fool
its terrible person
the reason it suffers
__________________
TO LOVE
one kiss upon the brow,
a token of love,
to interrupt
the sigh
the kiss
is wine enough
this is too much
to bear
eyes close
to word or touch
a token of love—
one kiss upon the brow.
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Notions
NOTIONS OF LOVE
She’s made of image. Glass can shatter that.
The window of love is open to regret. Why
suffer transformation in the dark. Why part
the shadows with a blade of light, become
the one who leaves you—lose your heart.
The map is hard to follow. You are lost.
Her hand is like a shadow on your face,
glass can shatter—drawing you toward
the phantom kiss. Prepare to dream.
She’s not more real than this.
Her eyes surrender, but you cannot claim,
she’s in the echo of your cry—she’s in a
distance—bending to a face—her own,
as if she conjures her own life—she’s
made of image—create a mirror of
yourself. Glass can shatter that.
She’s made of image. Glass can shatter that.
The window of love is open to regret. Why
suffer transformation in the dark. Why part
the shadows with a blade of light, become
the one who leaves you—lose your heart.
The map is hard to follow. You are lost.
Her hand is like a shadow on your face,
glass can shatter—drawing you toward
the phantom kiss. Prepare to dream.
She’s not more real than this.
Her eyes surrender, but you cannot claim,
she’s in the echo of your cry—she’s in a
distance—bending to a face—her own,
as if she conjures her own life—she’s
made of image—create a mirror of
yourself. Glass can shatter that.
.jpg)
Thought Shadows
REFRAIN
Her kiss was soft against my face—
dancer-kiss,
elegant as a turn toward the next piece of music.
Her arms around me pressed and pulled away.
Mine did the same.
Our faces moved apart.
Our greeting was quick, but tender.
There was joy in our hello. Our embrace
was brief, but dancer-slow.
Our few words got scattered
in the choreography-talk of others—
that smooth camaraderie—that soft din—
that coming together of friends
on some occasion in honor of itself.
We worked the room. All evening
we would be here—mutual and warm—
part of the performance. And when
the evening ended, we would embrace again.
_____________________
TOMORROW, WITH ITS MOON TO BE
after
today’s night
long past its sunrise and hours
that will be the morrow
ever just beyond
the now
with what is curious or restless
or in need of what tomorrow
might not relive—
so many though
have passed the days that
never will become the morrow
Her kiss was soft against my face—
dancer-kiss,
elegant as a turn toward the next piece of music.
Her arms around me pressed and pulled away.
Mine did the same.
Our faces moved apart.
Our greeting was quick, but tender.
There was joy in our hello. Our embrace
was brief, but dancer-slow.
Our few words got scattered
in the choreography-talk of others—
that smooth camaraderie—that soft din—
that coming together of friends
on some occasion in honor of itself.
We worked the room. All evening
we would be here—mutual and warm—
part of the performance. And when
the evening ended, we would embrace again.
_____________________
TOMORROW, WITH ITS MOON TO BE
after
today’s night
long past its sunrise and hours
that will be the morrow
ever just beyond
the now
with what is curious or restless
or in need of what tomorrow
might not relive—
so many though
have passed the days that
never will become the morrow
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Singularity
EACH VEILED KISS
After The Lovers by René Magritte
Veiled and forgiven, even now,
through dreams and deep imaginations,
from loves that never were—
veiled eyes and each veiled kiss.
What still vies between you
like veils of disbelief and loss?
What is the blessing—what the curse?
What is memory—what is love?
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 5/17/11)
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
SIGHINGS
—Joyce Odam
Song becomes song, which becomes
whisper, which becomes lament.
All has been told, and told again in silences.
There is a rage that has been tamed.
Something in the eyes commands light.
Darkness cowers.
Only love knows love,
which becomes honest. This is true.
_____________________
Joyce Odam sends us “A Kiss on the Cheek” (our recent Seed of the Week) with poems full of sighs and losses and hopes for tomorrow, “with its moon to be.” Our thanks to Joyce for her weekly submissions these many, many years—whatever the moon!
Our new Seed of the Week is “Windsong”. 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. And see every Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry form challenges, including those of the Ekphrastic type.
_____________________
—Medusa
—Painting by René Magritte, 1928
For upcoming poetry events in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
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.
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
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.
