—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan,
Stockton, CA
—Original Photos by Robin Gale Odam
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
MAN'S BEST FRIEND
—Joyce Odam
After "Song for Dumb Dog" by Joyce Odam
There is always a "Love me, love my dog" but for
me there is also cat and horse and wolf and wild-wing
and just a yearn for the wild or tame or the lost from
childhood or taken-away-from, always, always to
what the heart has outgrown, or the tears or the years
that take one place over another of life and choice of
place-after-place, to the love's lonely place or inner
call that touches at some giving into the sentiment
of a sudden song, for instance.
Well, I know of such moments, some traffic-kill
bringing back an old response of helpless grieving.
I have a little song like that, over bird or cat or dog,
I'll try to remember it here for you or whatever
stranger feels lost, half-forgotten perhaps,
but staring back.
I call it "Song for Dumb Dog" . . . it kinda
hums its way through . . .
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,
loved creatures who go and die . . .
Slow cats, dumb dogs, and cage-free birds,
I will sing you farewell words . . .
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye-goodbye . . .
Goodbye . . . Goodbye . . .
—Joyce Odam
After "Song for Dumb Dog" by Joyce Odam
There is always a "Love me, love my dog" but for
me there is also cat and horse and wolf and wild-wing
and just a yearn for the wild or tame or the lost from
childhood or taken-away-from, always, always to
what the heart has outgrown, or the tears or the years
that take one place over another of life and choice of
place-after-place, to the love's lonely place or inner
call that touches at some giving into the sentiment
of a sudden song, for instance.
Well, I know of such moments, some traffic-kill
bringing back an old response of helpless grieving.
I have a little song like that, over bird or cat or dog,
I'll try to remember it here for you or whatever
stranger feels lost, half-forgotten perhaps,
but staring back.
I call it "Song for Dumb Dog" . . . it kinda
hums its way through . . .
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,
loved creatures who go and die . . .
Slow cats, dumb dogs, and cage-free birds,
I will sing you farewell words . . .
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye-goodbye . . .
Goodbye . . . Goodbye . . .
Synonym
—Photo by Robin Gale OdamTELLURIAN
—Robin Gale Odam
chorus of morning dogs—
siren shrilling down main street
tellurian territory thirty feet up—
squirrel barks in a redwood tree
sticker weeds claim the backyard—
dark-eyed junco dives for bees
ominous counterplot—
synonyms doing ground work
souls hidden or lost—
everything feels different
non-native invasive virus—
life longs for itself
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
Of A Darkness
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
NEON
—Robin Gale Odam
Strange at the window,
The dark end of night and the
Shiver of wind at the yellow lace curtain.
Strange at the window,
To look past the curtain, to look
Through the neon to rumors of war.
Strange at the window,
The breath of the wind through the
Yellow lace curtain—the cold light of
Neon, the dark end of night and the
Translucent rumors of war.
Strange at the window,
The cold neon and the cold hotel—
Cold coffee and scone on a tray in the
Hallway and one faint knock at the door.
Of Old Stanzas
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
ghosts of old stanzas
now a mesh of random noise
flowers at the door
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
_________________
COLLAGE
—Robin Gale Odam
Of a sudden, when the dogs began to bark . . .
of course it was a shadow.
The wind made a fool of the weatherman . . .
such a tease.
The word 'ok' is a currency of time.
For The Wings Of The Bird
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
FOR THE WINGS OF THE BIRD
—Robin Gale Odam
The child sits on the bench against the
wall. Soon they will come to him—the gray-
whiskered dog from its bed by the hearth,
to listen to his sorrow . . . and the silver bird
from the open door of the wire cage on the
hook in the den by the piano, to perch
upon his finger.
Now something has passed him by—
the paper ring, the warm lullaby carried
on the breath of whisky, carried through the
years beyond boyhood to this bench against
the wall.
Behind tall doors the strange odors of
supper, and down the wide hallway, along
the polished floor, the scuffling of slippers
away from the long dining table.
Now he sits on the bench. He
remembers the lullaby and waits for the
dog. He steadies his hand and listens
for the wings of the bird.
Lullaby
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
—Photo by Robin Gale Odam
YOU NEVER KNEW ME
—Robin Gale Odam
Charcoal and umber, ivory and
bronze—you painted from memory.
You never colored my lips.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
________________________
FADE
—Robin Gale Odam
He held his best friend to be in the future,
but he was mistaken—his past is the longing
left behind . . . pages turned without markings,
the box of reminders on the highest shelf, the
talisman on the chain around his neck
He looks over his shoulder as the
one good memory really begins to fade—
she had brought him a dog, had named it
Cheddar, because it was orange, she said
He once told her he loved the dog more than
he loved her . . . she cried, and he said at least
dogs don't cry, and stepped through the doorway
and off down the pathway with Cheddar bounding
alongside
Now the stack of calendars, the record player,
the classified ads, the open doorway, the dry
weeds on the pathway . . . his new puppy
will be called Dilemma
________________________
Today’s LittleNip:
NOT DATED
—Robin Gale Odam
I’m going to go take a walk through the
mystery—I’ll be back in a long while.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
________________________
Joyce Odam is still on the mend from her fractured hip and has just gone through a bout of COVID, but it hasn’t stopped her from writing a poem to our Seed of the Week: Man’s Best Friend! She is quarantined with her daughter, Robin Gale Odam—also a poet and photographer—and Robin Gale (who also had COVID) has generously sent us poems and photos again. Thanks to both of these ladies for their takes on best friends, dogs and otherwise, and here’s to a quick mend for both of them.
And thanks to Joe Nolan for some dog photos, courtesy of public domain!
Sacramento Poetry Center has announced that it is closed for the rest of the year, so all readings and workshops will be canceled.
Our new Seed of the Week is “Lighting Up the Darkness”. Christmas lights are popping up all over my neighborhood, lighting up the street even as the rain comes down. Write about Christmas lights—or go broader and write about that which guides you through grief, illness, fear. What is it that lights up this December darkness for you? 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
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
For upcoming poetry happenings 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.
darkness...