Wishing Our Way Through April

 

—Photo by Ann Privateer

—Poetry by Ann Privateer, Stephen Kingsnorth, 

Nolcha Fox, Sayani Mukherjee, Shiva Neupane,

and Joe Nolan

—Photos by Ann Privateer and Stephen Kingsnorth

—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

 

NIGHT
—Ann Privateer, Davis, CA

you came to me from behind

as I stood gazing out the window
your arms encircled my torso
you kissed me fully, two mouths

awakening wildness without
resolution, lips form words, smiles
released to explore limits
now quiver and ignite and then

our eyes meet as strangers.

 

 

 

 —Painting by Ann Privateer

 

 

SLEEPLESS
—Ann Privateer

Her mind’s uncertainty
the stew of you dreams
forgotten words alone
without others in the way
pushing their boundaries
no telling which ditch
might catch them
lost in the stew of you.

 

 

 

 —Photo by Ann Privateer

 
 

SHE
—Ann Privateer

sitting on her friend's husband’s lap
not knowing how she got there
his athletic thighs yielded to her
voluptuousness, her back to his chest
his arms like snakes under her breast
his chin a latch locking her shoulder
she wondered if this could be a dream
if she were in a monster universe
if explicit energy could set her free
on this first night away from home
away from the safety of routine.

 

 

 

—Photo by Ann Privateer


 

 

BAD BOYS
—Ann Privateer

strut in empty halls
that reverberate
teenage boys in lockdown
jump-suited orange
hands held behind
stare past dogged brows
squelch impulses
to stab, to wound, to win
traded for good behaviour
and a colouring book.

 

 

 

 —Photo by Stephen Kingsnorth

 

 

WELL, I WISH
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

What do I wish when at a well,
green-light glint coins, distort viewed,
or more in murk of old saint’s tale,
spare copper drowned in stagnant pool?

One hand would do what grandkids’ want,
the spoils of fools, scooped, pocketful,
they for tooth-rot, sweet fillings glued,
me a pittance, poor-fund transfer.

But faithful tourists join the queue,
so hush those whispers, thoughts of jail;
the currency is foreign paid—
what is exchange rate from the cells?

What should I wish? says little one.
That you’ll get rich, comes number two.
I see him as a banker soon;
but will two visit him in gaol?

You’ll be a priest, opines the third;
this here is your collection plate.
My mind’s on money laundering;
there’s no clean money anywhere.

The roll goes on, suggested rôles;
I wish each find what suits them all,
vocation, perfect fit to call.
Then they’ll be comfortable with selves.

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

REVERSE
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Night-blooming jasmine
sweetens the room
full of boxes of life
once important,
rejects from junk sales
to go to the trash.
They were my treasures
adorning forevers.
I wish I could live
in reverse, wear the dresses
and sweaters, the fine
costume jewelry,
instead of preparing
for death. 

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

FINALLY AT HOME
—Sayani Mukherjee, Chandannagar,
W. Bengal, India

My confetti of newness
A brittle fresh flower
As breezes do feel
Simple and homely
The mystery unmasks
A damp moist face
Full of kind demeanour
Lullabies my sunken ship of armours
Have dropped down
A newly opened crevice
April musk roses lively level-headed
Kindred spirits
I love to watch your changing face
In chiaroscuro colours
Dappled your face, lonesome
You have carried enough cross
Now sleep along
In this April summer
Like a holy child
Blessed and holy. 

 

 

 

 Male Moth Antenna X40
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

THE COLOUR OF SOUL
—Shiva Neupane, Melbourne, Australia
 
It is a sheer complexity  
To gain an imperturbable tranquility
When we lack the colour of our choice
From which we can rejoice.
 
When you glance at the sky
Your soul gets rocketed to a great high.
The cosmic dietary would nourish your soul
And it may purify your spiritual foul.
 
The power of colour is incredulous.
Which makes your life fabulous?
The colour is the diet of your thoughts
Which are freely brought.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

KRESKIN’S EXCITING CHARM
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

One-a-these-days
I shall make a hare disappear
With a tap of a magic wand
On the rim of a black top-hat.

Ladies in the audience
Will suck in air
Or let out a chirp.

I will feel
Like a lion-tamer
Sign autographs
Invite someone home,
Show her my lithographs
If she’s curious
Or interested. 

In the morning
One of us
Will have to
Disappear, too. 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

IN RE: AUDREY HALE
—Joe Nolan

Murder was mine to make.
Innocent lives,
Mine to take.
My Manifesto,
Theirs to mute.

Reason,
Mine to refute,
In lines and pages
Scattered through cyberspace
That would not be released
Lest they spread my disease.

My motive, they say,
Is unknown.

But the truth is—
It could not be shown
To protect the
Guilty or innocent
Who drove me to madness
With binary-oppression
Such that I could not be free
As a mixed-gender person
In a slaughter-society.  

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

GIVING BIRTH
—Joe Nolan

To give birth
Is to merge your heaven
In fertile earth.

To stand your ground,
To capture sound,
To laugh out loud,
To cry, forever. 

None can count
The measure or the cost—
Broken hearts and buried treasure
When a son is lost.

 

 

 

Cooper Lake Reservoir, OR
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

GENTLE TOWARD NIGHT
—Joe Nolan

Everything that’s gentle
Is bent toward quiet night,
When everything is sleeping,
In respite from the light.

When every soul is flying
Dreaming, through its flight,
Pursuing illumination.

Lovers meet,
Overnight,
In dreams that fill the sky.   

You might see
An old lover,
Dreaming, 
Flying by,
Pursuing her new lover,
Also, flying by,
In the heat of darkness
Where no one ever asks, “Why?” 

____________________


Today’s LittleNip:

MINDS MEANDER
—Ann Privateer

kissing in public
passion on display
not the airport kind
the beach blanket kind
the here and now kind
stroking, squeezing, darting
next to an old woman
who sits alone on a bench
eating a banana.

_____________________

Here we are, again—and already we’re almost halfway into April! Many thanks to today’s contributors from around the world. We have some “wishing” poems today because that is our SOW; be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.

Tomorrow, April 11, is World Parkinson’s Day, and a poem of Stephen Kingsnorth’s was posted on billboards in the UK in honor of same. Stephen sent a photo, which I have posted above. He also writes that “Apparently there are 5 poems on 'flipping' electronic billboards in UK shopping malls, motorway service stations etc., and mine is one of them. . .  Not Piccadilly Circus, where they are setting a loop showing single lines/phrases taken from a variety of pieces. I have to say I prefer to have a complete piece, all be it they have taken 4 lines from 3 different poems!” An interesting use of poetry, indeed, and congratulations, Stephen! We’ll be thinking about you on World Parkinson’s Day.


Tonight’s Sacramento Poetry Center reading features Grande Dames in Sacramento Poetry, with four readers who are over the age of 90. One of these is SnakePal Allegra Silberstein, who has a new book out from Cold River Press, Lyra’s Song, which is available this month for just $12, postage included, at https://www.coldriverpress.com/HTML/AUTHORS/silberstein/lyra.htm/. Congratulations, Allegra!

There are LOTS of poetry readings and workshops going on this week, as National Poetry Month continues. Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details about these 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

 

 

 

Allegra's new book!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more about National Poetry Month,
including ways to celebrate, see
https://poets.org/national-poetry-month.
And sign up for Poem-a-Day at
https://poets.org/poem-a-day/, plus
read about Poem in Your Pocket Day
(this year, April 27) at
https://poets.org/national-poetry-month/poem-your-pocket-day/.

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!