The Power of a Secret
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Robin Gale Odam
SKY RIVER
—Robin Gale Odam
The day is flooded
by the sky river, heavy drops
landing on the landing in the solo
of percussion and the far v-shape of
geese calling, calling, calling, flooding
my heart with a strain of sorrow, the song
of remember, remember, remember . . .
The house finches
have vanished from the
tree branches. I always wonder
where they go in the rain, the finches.
And the hummingbirds, their hanging
bottles of red nectar empty from
winter's neglect . . .
____________________
SMALL FIGURE IN YELLOW
standing in the cold afternoon,
small boy stirs puddles with a stick,
rain streaming over yellow hat and slicker,
small figure in yellow watching rain drops splash,
watching the rings circling around his yellow boots,
and thinking
—Robin Gale Odam
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2012)
—Robin Gale Odam
The day is flooded
by the sky river, heavy drops
landing on the landing in the solo
of percussion and the far v-shape of
geese calling, calling, calling, flooding
my heart with a strain of sorrow, the song
of remember, remember, remember . . .
The house finches
have vanished from the
tree branches. I always wonder
where they go in the rain, the finches.
And the hummingbirds, their hanging
bottles of red nectar empty from
winter's neglect . . .
____________________
SMALL FIGURE IN YELLOW
standing in the cold afternoon,
small boy stirs puddles with a stick,
rain streaming over yellow hat and slicker,
small figure in yellow watching rain drops splash,
watching the rings circling around his yellow boots,
and thinking
—Robin Gale Odam
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2012)
Nothing to Know
FLOOD 1 (The Dreamer)
Though I say and say
I have nothing to know
I went to the parlour
heavy with snow
I swam till I melted
I was only a dream
I dreamed myself Dreamer
I learned to let go
I tried to be sorry
from seven to when
but sorrow was no one
and no one was me
I tried to be someone
but I was my own
she feeds me my mirror
I tried to say no
I am a dreamer
with reason to stare
I want to remember
I want to be me.
Only A Dream
FLOOD 2 (The Rivers)
The rivers follow the
notions of the winds
The winds have no say
for their directions
The trees go one at a time
or many at once
Skies and shadows darken to heavy gray
Houses creak and howl
The ones who brave the rivers
stay where they are
The rivers rise and flow in fury—
guiltless
Notions
FLOOD 3 (The Day)
This day is to be remembered
for its many ways of being
from calm to madness
felt by watchers
who feel and understand
those who brave the reality of the fear
or the watchers from the windows
who 'back-and-forth' from admiration
to apprehension
how it howls and battles
with all its strength
but will die down eventually
_____________________
FLOOD 4 (The Invisible Winds)
I am watching the invisible winds—
they cannot know, the power of a
secret is what I know and value.
I watch quietly, how they blow
across the gazing of the world—
how it is, right now, letting itself
wonder, or we, wondering how it is
right now, or we who fear and admire
the moving air feeling the darkness
that is there—for the sky is settling
everywhere—even the deepening gray
clouds that we admire the background
of, their movement, how the
mind breathes for itself, and we,
the floating world, follow what is gone.
Mocking The Bird
ATMOSPHERIC RIVERS
—Robin Gale Odam
Scattered ribbons in the sky,
black and somber, trailing now—
threads of rivers above the valley
turning into rainfall.
Hurricane hunter aircraft
gathering the story,
cloud blanket, tornado bomb,
thunder head, a surge, a squall,
the weather-teller's catchy terms
for winter's tempest woe.
The urban trees are shivering,
a hundred sparrows in the garden
barking in the brittle branches.
The city now is flooded—
tomorrow will be breezy.
______________________
HALF-LIGHT
—Robin Gale Odam
Here at dusk the imitation of
shadow—angle of dark pulled
through a window, thin at the wall,
sheer on the breath—whisper of
remembering
I avoid the mirror—I’m certain
there is new territory drawn
The hour will change at the
advent of edits—words on the
page are not the same in daylight
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
AXIS
—Robin Gale Odam
the gathering of scraps, of
words to tide us over
the gale to brace against, the
chill to shiver
take the horses to the stream,
see them drink the dark of night,
watch them go around the page
bring us to the water—take us
from the dream
(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)
_____________________
Joyce Odam remains at her daughter Robin Gale Odam’s house, recuperating from her fractured hip. So Robin, a fine poet herself, has stepped in to add to Joyce’s Tuesday poems and photos. And we’re grateful to both of them for their comments on our Seed of the Week, Flooded.
Our new Seed of the Week is “Stranded”. 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.
Notice of a workshop on metaphor has popped up for tomorrow, 10am-12 noon: Gold Country Writers Speaker Meeting in Auburn presents a workshop by Georgette Unis: Sounding the Metaphor. It's at the Auburn Airport's Barnstormer Room, 13626 New Airport Rd., Auburn, CA. Info: https://goldcountrywriters.com/. (Bring pen and paper.) Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
______________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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