The Echo I Carry
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Robin Gale Odam
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Robin Gale Odam
THE BIRDS
—Joyce Odam
Somewhere the birds
can’t find me with their singing.
I listen for them but they are
in the dream of my dreaming,
looking for me—this is
how I remember them.
I know them through
the echo I carry in my mind.
I am patient and secret for this
that blooms me in all my listening.
___________________
FICTION
—Robin Gale Odam
crimson orange sphere
through the low trees over there
—rising scream in me
indigo legend
for a time of two full moons
—romantic fiction
hollow cry of the night falls
this round moon is a blue one
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2015)
—Joyce Odam
Somewhere the birds
can’t find me with their singing.
I listen for them but they are
in the dream of my dreaming,
looking for me—this is
how I remember them.
I know them through
the echo I carry in my mind.
I am patient and secret for this
that blooms me in all my listening.
___________________
FICTION
—Robin Gale Odam
crimson orange sphere
through the low trees over there
—rising scream in me
indigo legend
for a time of two full moons
—romantic fiction
hollow cry of the night falls
this round moon is a blue one
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2015)
Tomorrow
BALLET OF STONES
—Joyce Odam
See how they float, heavily,
mercurial, embraced by music,
dance of lost love, held by a stage,
an audience, a need to perform.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, October 2015)
___________________
AWAY
—Robin Gale Odam
Around the block, up over the
point of tears to the trail of stones
through the green park with the song-
birds and the night sifting down.
Away for the crying—
I will go away.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, April 2020)
To Still The Heart
FEATHER RIVER
—Robin Gale Odam
Daddy with his dreaming
blue eyes—Mama with her warm
brown eyes, red flannel shirt, and her
soft hands.
I would look for the feathers—it took me
my childhood to discover they are not in the
river, but on the wing, high in the magnificent
trees.
Pine needles, logs, the fire inside the circle of
stones—black coffee, the dented percolator,
thick mugs that hold exactly eight ounces—
the real cup of coffee.
Heavy old army-issue sleeping bags with
sturdy brass zippers—and the kerosene lantern,
along with the requisite cautions and warnings
and stern looks.
The casting of a delicate net over my
thoughts, as to memories—the smell of the
earth, the faint noises, imagined presence of
wildlife—bears and wolves, the weapon
under the pillow.
_____________________
MUSE WHISPERS
—Robin Gale Odam
with a warning told
not to linger in the night
of the shortest day
but it seems she wrote him there
as she stroked her graying hair
(prev. pub. in Brevities, September 2015)
—Robin Gale Odam
Daddy with his dreaming
blue eyes—Mama with her warm
brown eyes, red flannel shirt, and her
soft hands.
I would look for the feathers—it took me
my childhood to discover they are not in the
river, but on the wing, high in the magnificent
trees.
Pine needles, logs, the fire inside the circle of
stones—black coffee, the dented percolator,
thick mugs that hold exactly eight ounces—
the real cup of coffee.
Heavy old army-issue sleeping bags with
sturdy brass zippers—and the kerosene lantern,
along with the requisite cautions and warnings
and stern looks.
The casting of a delicate net over my
thoughts, as to memories—the smell of the
earth, the faint noises, imagined presence of
wildlife—bears and wolves, the weapon
under the pillow.
_____________________
MUSE WHISPERS
—Robin Gale Odam
with a warning told
not to linger in the night
of the shortest day
but it seems she wrote him there
as she stroked her graying hair
(prev. pub. in Brevities, September 2015)
Only A Word
WHAT SHOULD WE GIVE TO
ABSENCE THAT IS ONLY A WORD
—Joyce Odam
Absence is the long emptiness of some-
thing, emptiness is the same as absence,
both can be but a word—but of different
powers.
Word is the magic of conversation . . .
word as in spoken, or as in singing,
or as pure voice, or as holding silence.
Elsewise, of endless sound-value
or withheld from personal choices, words
can hum, or whistle, or sulk loudly against
any voice—they can holler to reach, or warn
to escape danger—and therefore, I suppose,
prove any absence that is only a word.
The Long Emptiness
SALT
—Robin Gale Odam
The second stanza had too many
commas, I removed them in favor of
sturdy endings, to pause, and reflect.
To pause. To reflect. It was some-
thing like salt that gets in—precision
fit for margins. Like those around faith.
Or even death or joy.
Once again the cumbersome vehicle
of words. Whispering has no commas.
Just the run-on of thinking or the scritch
of hushed crying or the resurrection
of a prayer.
—Robin Gale Odam
The second stanza had too many
commas, I removed them in favor of
sturdy endings, to pause, and reflect.
To pause. To reflect. It was some-
thing like salt that gets in—precision
fit for margins. Like those around faith.
Or even death or joy.
Once again the cumbersome vehicle
of words. Whispering has no commas.
Just the run-on of thinking or the scritch
of hushed crying or the resurrection
of a prayer.
Whirl Me
Today’s LittleNip:
INFATUATION
—Joyce Odam
write me quickly,
I am delirious with joy.
I am in the arms of a vision.
I am ecstatic with the illusion.
. . . whirl me . . . whirl me . . .
(prev. pub. in Brevities, April 2015)
_____________________
The Odam Poets are with us today—Happy Campers Joyce and Robin Gale, writing about our Seed of the Week, The Joys of Camping—and our Tuesday is all the better for it! There is more than one kind of heat…
Our new Seed of the Week is “Dietary Indiscretion”, a euphemistic term which can apply to both animals and people. 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.
Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.
_____________________
—Medusa
INFATUATION
—Joyce Odam
write me quickly,
I am delirious with joy.
I am in the arms of a vision.
I am ecstatic with the illusion.
. . . whirl me . . . whirl me . . .
(prev. pub. in Brevities, April 2015)
_____________________
The Odam Poets are with us today—Happy Campers Joyce and Robin Gale, writing about our Seed of the Week, The Joys of Camping—and our Tuesday is all the better for it! There is more than one kind of heat…
Our new Seed of the Week is “Dietary Indiscretion”, a euphemistic term which can apply to both animals and people. 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.
Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.
_____________________
—Medusa
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
A reminder that Twin Lotus Thai
Fourth Tuesday features some readers
from Los Escritores del Nuevo Sol
tonight—reservations strongly advised!
For details about this and other
Fourth Tuesday features some readers
from Los Escritores del Nuevo Sol
tonight—reservations strongly advised!
For details about this and other
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
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
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
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.
