—Poetry by Lynn White, Blaenau Ffestiniog,
North Wales
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan,
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan,
Stockton, CA
A BLUE WHALE
Look at them all
swimming round me
taunting me
waving their legs at me
tickling me
pinching me
and swimming away
constantly taunting me.
No wonder I’m depressed.
What a wheeze to make me,
the largest creature on the planet,
need to eat one of the smallest.
Well Joker, I’m not laughing.
Forty million krill a day
I need to eat
according to Wiki.
Yes, I keep up.
I’m well informed
but it doesn’t help me,
doesn’t make me feel better.
To add to the insult
I was given a tiny mouth,
too small for the job.
See, I’m hardly a basking shark
swimming round all day
with my mouth open
so they can swim straight in.
No, it’s open and close
open and close
till my jaw aches.
No wonder I’m blue.
Look at them all
swimming round me
taunting me
waving their legs at me
tickling me
pinching me
and swimming away
constantly taunting me.
No wonder I’m depressed.
What a wheeze to make me,
the largest creature on the planet,
need to eat one of the smallest.
Well Joker, I’m not laughing.
Forty million krill a day
I need to eat
according to Wiki.
Yes, I keep up.
I’m well informed
but it doesn’t help me,
doesn’t make me feel better.
To add to the insult
I was given a tiny mouth,
too small for the job.
See, I’m hardly a basking shark
swimming round all day
with my mouth open
so they can swim straight in.
No, it’s open and close
open and close
till my jaw aches.
No wonder I’m blue.
GOLDFISH
Her favourite foods were prawns and chocolate.
I wondered if she would be fooled
by torn pieces of plastic
heavily disguised.
She ate them eagerly.
And then
spat.
Spat them out
her look of disgust clearly expressing her thinking,
“I wasn’t born yesterday, I’m ten years old
and I’m not one of them brain-dead sea-fish either!
Oh, and cut out the raspberries,
I’m not a fuckin’ blackbird either!”
Then she blew a few bubbles,
swished her tail
and went in search of tadpoles.
(prev. pub. in Event Horizon, 2018)
NEWT
I can understand
why
on a hot, hot day,
Lawrence’s snake appeared thirstily
at his water trough.
And why his lizard ran out
onto a rock
to flaunt himself in the sunshine.
But why
on a wet, wet day,
a newt should leave
her splendidly moist habitat
and venture hazardously
into the dry warmth of my kitchen,
that
I cannot understand.
And, of course she couldn’t explain.
TWO FROGS
I loved the pond near my auntie’s.
Just a short walk from the village.
I could get right up close
and peer into the water.
That was how I saw the frogs.
They were not easy to catch but
I managed it eventually, one at a time.
I kissed each carefully
to make sure they were real frogs,
didn’t want one of those prince things.
Then I put them in my shoe and placed
my other shoe on top
so that they couldn’t jump out.
I walked back barefoot
over the rough ground
and the village street.
I discovered that my mother and auntie
were afraid of frogs.
Perhaps they would have preferred princes.
They didn’t like the barefoot walk either.
My dirty feet would show them up,
they said.
My uncle said they were good for the garden
and I would not be allowed to take them on the bus
when I went home.
So I watched them leapfrog through his garden.
I hoped they’d be happy there.
He told me they were,
but I never saw them again.
(prev. pub. in Scrittura, 2018)
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
We sent whalesong into interstellar space because the creatures that sing these songs are superlative beings that fill us with awe, terror, and affection. We have hunted them for thousands of years and scratched them into our mythologies and iconography. Their bones frame the archways of medieval castles. They’re so compelling that we imagine aliens might find them interesting— or perhaps understand their otherworldly, ethereal song.
―Nick Pyenson, Spying on Whales: The Past, Present, and Future of Earth's Most Awesome Creatures
___________________
Welcome back to Welsh poet Lynn White, with songs of whales and newts and wee frogs…
A note that SnakePal and Tuesday Poet Joyce Odam fell and fractured her hip in two places. Her doctors think she will mend, though, so that’s good news! Think about her once in a while this week, won’t you?
Lots going on in NorCal poetry today and tonight! For today’s poetry happenings, click on UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS in the links at the top of this page.
___________________
—Medusa
I loved the pond near my auntie’s.
Just a short walk from the village.
I could get right up close
and peer into the water.
That was how I saw the frogs.
They were not easy to catch but
I managed it eventually, one at a time.
I kissed each carefully
to make sure they were real frogs,
didn’t want one of those prince things.
Then I put them in my shoe and placed
my other shoe on top
so that they couldn’t jump out.
I walked back barefoot
over the rough ground
and the village street.
I discovered that my mother and auntie
were afraid of frogs.
Perhaps they would have preferred princes.
They didn’t like the barefoot walk either.
My dirty feet would show them up,
they said.
My uncle said they were good for the garden
and I would not be allowed to take them on the bus
when I went home.
So I watched them leapfrog through his garden.
I hoped they’d be happy there.
He told me they were,
but I never saw them again.
(prev. pub. in Scrittura, 2018)
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
We sent whalesong into interstellar space because the creatures that sing these songs are superlative beings that fill us with awe, terror, and affection. We have hunted them for thousands of years and scratched them into our mythologies and iconography. Their bones frame the archways of medieval castles. They’re so compelling that we imagine aliens might find them interesting— or perhaps understand their otherworldly, ethereal song.
―Nick Pyenson, Spying on Whales: The Past, Present, and Future of Earth's Most Awesome Creatures
___________________
Welcome back to Welsh poet Lynn White, with songs of whales and newts and wee frogs…
A note that SnakePal and Tuesday Poet Joyce Odam fell and fractured her hip in two places. Her doctors think she will mend, though, so that’s good news! Think about her once in a while this week, won’t you?
Lots going on in NorCal poetry today and tonight! For today’s poetry happenings, click on UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS in the links at the top of this page.
___________________
—Medusa
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!
