Roses in the Rain

 

—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of 

Nolcha Fox

 

 

 

A rose is a rose is a

dew-covered rose is a
bird asleep crying is a
moth drinking tears is a
rose in the rain is a
rose. 

 

 

 

 

Breaking Free

Coffee drips, the cup in the cupboard.
Tangled tears undaunted by ice.
Submerged treasure chest of longing, rusted lock.
Dreams dissipated under sun’s scrutiny.
Roar, vibration, cracked glass.

 

 

 

 

 

Her Hands

Trace the years of scrubbing,
knitting, cooking,
callouses and burns and veins
a map to treasure never buried,
carried in her hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Giving it Away

She promises her children
she will only keep the things
she truly loves,
and give the rest away.
Except for all the memories
she knows they’ll want
when she is gone:
the rolled-up rugs
that once held toys,
the tree skirt pulled out
once a year to hold
the Christmas gifts.
Every item on the shelves
is tied to childhood joy.
Everything she’s kept
she loves, she can’t
give it away.

 

 

 

 

 

Replaced

Fields full of flowers
bulldozed into car lots,
blue skies and white clouds
replaced by tall buildings,
laughter and ball toss
replaced by expressways,
raindrops on tongue
are the only reminder
that once I was part
of the beauty of life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m allergic

to numbers,
my nose runs,
my eyes swell,
whenever
I see them.
They chase me
down alleys,
they are cats
who know I
can’t stand them.

 

 

 

 

Thought balloons

however weighty,
never seem to fall.
They float above
electric wires,
where I cannot catch them.
They burst before
I know they’re there,
I lose what I was thinking.

 

 

 

I’m broken

bones and shattered soul.
So many missteps
took me where
I didn’t want to go.
More years behind
than up ahead,
I don’t have time
to wrap myself
in green duct tape
before I fall apart.

 

 

 

 

 

Resignation

I resign from mattresses on top of peas
that plague my sleeping hours.

I resign from winter’s slips
and falls on hidden ice.

I resign from sagging skin
and hearing aids that don’t hide noise.

I resign from aches as body
calcifies and shrinks.

I’m resigned to never finding portals
to forever health, avoiding death and funerals.

 

 

 

 

 

My heart fails me

every time I leave the house.
I worry about accidents,
traffic jams, hurricanes,
losing those I love.
Perhaps if I just stay at home,

nothing bad will happen.

 

 

 

 

You never know when

you might need a body
to help a body,
to share spare parts,
to remember
better days,
to hold you up
and move you out,
to never forget
your friends.

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

Lost

in a sea of lonely faces,
I leave behind a trail
of letters disguised
as a life I lost at sea.

—Nolcha Fox

______________________

Nolcha Fox is back with us today, bringing poems and pix to brighten up a Thursday—and thanks to her for that! Nolcha may be found at https://bit.ly/3bT9tYu/.

______________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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!