The World Far Away
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam
Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Robin Gale Odam
MY TURN AT THE WORLD
—Joyce Odam
The world is far away. Or so it seems.
A bird flies by and disappears. The bird
flies back again and it is there.
How wise for me to realize such things
as mystery, as wisdom to accept—I think
I wander in my mind, my mind that seems
to gaze through eyes that feel it disappear
through mind and lose the way.
I hear its song, the flying bird that sings
and is not there, as is the world—I just
drift outside and disappear in thought.
—Joyce Odam
The world is far away. Or so it seems.
A bird flies by and disappears. The bird
flies back again and it is there.
How wise for me to realize such things
as mystery, as wisdom to accept—I think
I wander in my mind, my mind that seems
to gaze through eyes that feel it disappear
through mind and lose the way.
I hear its song, the flying bird that sings
and is not there, as is the world—I just
drift outside and disappear in thought.
Mystery As Wisdom
TREE STORY
—Robin Gale Odam
mockingbird, sweeping the cat
from the yard, sweeping the hawk
from the trees—fledgling balanced
in the lower branches
_________________
ABSTRACTION
—Robin Gale Odam
oh-no, oh-no, oh-no, the background
music cries—the underlying music cries
oh-no, oh-no, oh-no at the jagged bass-
line. at the heart beat inside the rest. at
every dedicated momentous stop for
cognitive dissonance, the gold standard
for distortion in harmony
mockingbird, sweeping the cat
from the yard, sweeping the hawk
from the trees—fledgling balanced
in the lower branches
_________________
ABSTRACTION
—Robin Gale Odam
oh-no, oh-no, oh-no, the background
music cries—the underlying music cries
oh-no, oh-no, oh-no at the jagged bass-
line. at the heart beat inside the rest. at
every dedicated momentous stop for
cognitive dissonance, the gold standard
for distortion in harmony
Such Drama
CRAZY LIVING
—Joyce Odam
Now is the first and everything,
and the very ending and begin-
ning as now and before—
and the way the center folds
and once again begins, then was
never like you tried, my sweet liar,
full of such drama, my sweet dreamer,
now drifting into all your places that
always dreamed me back into the
safe world that tried to save me once
from all life’s danger and future. If I am
then it will be. How else would I know this.
—Joyce Odam
Now is the first and everything,
and the very ending and begin-
ning as now and before—
and the way the center folds
and once again begins, then was
never like you tried, my sweet liar,
full of such drama, my sweet dreamer,
now drifting into all your places that
always dreamed me back into the
safe world that tried to save me once
from all life’s danger and future. If I am
then it will be. How else would I know this.
Measure Of Time
DATING BACK TO TOMORROW
—Robin Gale Odam
I thought very far ahead,
I thought deeply, far and deep,
I became lost, backtracking became
the new measure of time . . . the buds
of flowers will open at sunrise.
Yard Art
BENEATH THE HEADING
—Robin Gale Odam
Now the string of
indecipherable words,
scribbled at midnight in the
stream of the tiny flashlight at
the bedside . . . it was poignant
and deep, in the hand of my
poet mother.
____________________
VEER
—Robin Gale Odam
priorities shift as if they were
options—as wee birds in a nest,
beaks open to the sky, every one
in peril
—Robin Gale Odam
Now the string of
indecipherable words,
scribbled at midnight in the
stream of the tiny flashlight at
the bedside . . . it was poignant
and deep, in the hand of my
poet mother.
____________________
VEER
—Robin Gale Odam
priorities shift as if they were
options—as wee birds in a nest,
beaks open to the sky, every one
in peril
At Midnight
THE WORLD IN PERIL
—Joyce Odam
The water is still. How will it
fill the long stretches of time that
wait for the pattern to change?
How must we wait like water in its
hibernation while the seasons change?
The moon is tardy and the sky is slow.
What follows the echo that is gone?
I have sound to share—give me
the moment to find my tone—music is
pure, how it calls my name, the old
music too poignant to lose—wake up
to my old reminder of searching, pure
as the heart reaching back as a voice that
always was a voice. The water is still.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
PSALM
—Joyce Odam
Dear God, thank you
for being.
_______________________
Tuesday thanks to Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam for fine poetry, and companion pix! If you search the poems, you’ll find sly nods to some recent Seeds of the Week and Friday Ekphrastic photos, such as reading by flashlight under the covers, and one from long ago: "Still Water". Calliope's Closet has a VERY long list of SOWs to choose from, should you want to tweak the Muse.
Our new Seed of the Week is a reminder of Mother's Day (human and otherwise): “Under Her Wing”. 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.
NorCal events in our area tonight include a Zoom reading in Modesto with the Fresno Homies, and the Do Tell! true story open mic in Rancho Cordova. 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
NorCal events in our area tonight include a Zoom reading in Modesto with the Fresno Homies, and the Do Tell! true story open mic in Rancho Cordova. 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
Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
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!
