One Day The Truth . . .

 

Through Poetry
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Robin Gale Odam

THE SHINING RAIN
—Joyce Odam

I know the trees are clean now.
I know the grass is pleased.

I know the cars are shining
underneath the dripping leaves.

I know the rushing gutters
think they are a river.

I know the rain, the rain, the rain,
thinks it will rain forever.

                             
(prev. pub. in Brevities, September 2018)

 

 

 

 Writing All Her Days

 

ANNA
—Robin Gale Odam

ghost of her double
stayed behind when she was born
writing all her days

                     
(prev. pub. in Brevities, June 2018)

___________________

DRAFT
—Robin Gale Odam

Breathless, the poet scribbled
with sharpened pencils—breathless
in the turning of the hour, in the hour of
gleaning, in the placing of the flourish.

Fragile curls of pencil lead and broken
points lay scattered over pages of
endings.

                             
(prev. pub. in Brevities, July 2018 and
Song of the San Joaquin, Fall 2018)

 

 

 

Pages of Endings

 

  

FLAPPER SONG 

—Joyce Odam

I am young in myself
because I have been young.

Old as I am,
I am young—

Come to me through poetry,
though I am out of words

of my own
that I own sometimes.

                   
(prev. pub. in Brevities, July 2018)

____________________

INTO FRESH CLAY
—Robin Gale Odam

She scored the passions
onto the clay tablet, pressed them
into the fresh clay—the tablet of

river clay from the veins of the
brackish water of the heavy heart
in the pouring out to the sea.

                      
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2018)

____________________

PAS DE DEUX 

—Joyce Odam

love is a balancing act—a walk across
swift-moving water on a swaying wire

you’re unafraid—even foolhardy—
trusting in your partner

who is unsure—has vertigo

                                    
(prev. pub. in Brevities, June 2018) 

 

 

 

 Fracture

 

SHADOW OF REGRET
—Joyce Odam

Some day the truth will come, will
raise the great shadow of regret,
the wise reel of
something worth the imagination
of regret, the wise reel or something.

Some day, truth will come, will
raise the great shadow
of regret
or something—
or wise or something worth the
threat of imagination,
later will be a great fracture. 

* * * * *

One day truth will come, and
will raise the great shadow of regret,
wise or, the threat of wise, or something
worthy—

the worth of imagination of wise or
with the threat or something worthy of
the threat of imagination, how come
it can be a threat.

One day the truth will come, will
raise the great shadow of regret.

Or the threat of imagination,
how it can be a threat.

The grief is wise. Phrases come along.
The threat of something—how can it be a threat! 

* * * * *

The truth—
The great curse of time or thought.
Someday the truth will come,
will raise the great shadow of regret.
Wise, real, or something worth the
threat of imagination—will it rise,
ever be a threat, fracturable!

How come this dream won’t die,
or lie, or fade away. How come
life has such to bear, or someone,
something, is true to life,
the grief is wise,
something will always be, it is part
of my truth. I am the great disguise.
Some day the death will rise with my . . .

It comes to being, that’s the way,
but somewhere, sometime, the path
will end, the way the way is gone.
Was it always wrong to be . . .

There is no episode of wrong. There is
more wrong. Oh, pity, how you
can cry, but it’s too late for that.

Phrases come along. Why can’t I read
the mystery in meaning?
If only, but, if only.

But the dream is full of such . . . no longer
the dream . . .

Toy poem.

Phrases come along.
The grief is wise.
It comes to being.
Oh, anger.
Don’t touch.

 

 

 

 Flowers from Paris

 

WIRE
—Robin Gale Odam

the flowers from Paris
and the uniform from the passion
of war—she would love him forever

sitting on the garden bench
she reads his letters again

                          
(prev. pub. in Brevities, June 2018)
                                              
____________________

trouble of matter
heart of the aging mountain
melted and hardened

—Robin Gale Odam

____________________

TWO CLOUDS AT REST ON THEIR
BLACK LININGS IN THE WHITE SKY
 —Robin Gale Odam

Abercrombie meows at the blue door,
One meow and then the long morning—

The empty väz at rest on the table
The picture on the wall of Gertrude and her
White cat at evening

All of the leaves are gone from the tree
The fire of the sun has left the day to the sky

As a window to sorrow, the white sky holds
Two clouds at rest on their black linings—

Abercrombie meows

            
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2018)

 

 

 

 Learning to Cry

Today’s LittleNip:

wishes are empty little things
they learn to cry
 

—Joyce Odam


(prev. pub. in Brevities, November 2019)

__________________________

Mid-July heat has us searching for solace through poetry, and the Odam poets bring us plenty of that with their poetry and Robin’s photos, as they write about our Seed of the Week: Fragile. Our thanks for that! The heat makes us all uncommonly fragile…

Our new Seed of the Week is “The Joys of Camping”. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week, then 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.

__________________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 Fragile As...

—Public Domain Photo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For 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.

 

Heart of the Aging Mountain