In The Sun
—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
HERALDINGS
—Joyce Odam
The rooster crows.
It is dark outside.
It is morning.
A second rooster crows.
Its voice a mechanical echo.
The first rooster listens.
It is morning.
It is dark outside.
The roosters take turns crowing.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, January-February 2021)
___________________
FIRST OF MORNING
—Robin Gale Odam
Counter clockwise, day by day
the sun rises and sets—east to west.
Each morning we watch from our
window, for a glimpse of radiance—
we wake to see it, to feel it cross over
and settle into its descent—
then holding the moment close, once
again, we await the first of morning.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, January 2016)
____________________
WAKING UP TO
birds singing as if to the first song of
ever, quietly, attentively, almost apolo-
getic, as if to say, can I sing now, I am
joyous and want to be heard, I have
messages. I have new love of song,
I am forever—I am first song—first
song of ever, listen, listen
—Joyce Odam
—Joyce Odam
The rooster crows.
It is dark outside.
It is morning.
A second rooster crows.
Its voice a mechanical echo.
The first rooster listens.
It is morning.
It is dark outside.
The roosters take turns crowing.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, January-February 2021)
___________________
FIRST OF MORNING
—Robin Gale Odam
Counter clockwise, day by day
the sun rises and sets—east to west.
Each morning we watch from our
window, for a glimpse of radiance—
we wake to see it, to feel it cross over
and settle into its descent—
then holding the moment close, once
again, we await the first of morning.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, January 2016)
____________________
WAKING UP TO
birds singing as if to the first song of
ever, quietly, attentively, almost apolo-
getic, as if to say, can I sing now, I am
joyous and want to be heard, I have
messages. I have new love of song,
I am forever—I am first song—first
song of ever, listen, listen
—Joyce Odam
(prev. pub. in Brevities, Jan.-Feb. 2021)
The First Song Of Ever
FROM THE SEA YEARS
—Joyce Odam
It was always the gulls
with their hollow screeching
and white wheeling flight
that I loved . . .
(prev. pub. in Brevities, March/April 2021)
Pondering
HALF-LIGHT
—Robin Gale Odam
Here at dusk the imitation of
shadow—angle of dark pulled
through a window, thin at the wall,
sheer on the breath—whisper of
remembering
I avoid the mirror—I’m certain
there is new territory drawn
The hour will change at the
advent of edits—words on the
page are not the same in daylight
(prev. pub. in Brevities, September-October 2020)
And Now Is Ending
TIME IS NOT THE DREAM
—Joyce Odam
Summer has just begun
and now is ending
through
spinning
days
in a slow malaise.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, March/April 2021)
___________________
three phantom songbirds
minor triad, evening light
three silver shadows
—Robin Gale Odam
Echo
SHIFTSONGS
—Robin Gale Odam
you cast the light of evening
under the night, into the shiftsongs
of birds—the pierce of shrill calls
through pale starlight and in the
dark of secrets
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2020)
________________
SLEEP WITHIN SLEEP
—Joyce Odam
Do not pull night around you so tightly.
It is full of stones weighted as dreams.
It is full of drowning—winding into
one deep, continuous spiral
that becomes a sound.
Do not listen.
(prev. pub. in Brevities, August 2020)
Don’t Let Me Go
SUMMER DREAM
—Joyce Odam
Summer, dream to me,
don’t let me go, life is a
scene to me—
be a dream to me.
I need to know how far
a dream can go—I waited
long to be a place to go,
life is fast—now slow.
I need to be a dream for
you—where to go,
a time that swallows
all I go—
let us be,
let us know.
Oh fast—oh slow,
when it was true . . .
Days That Follow
Today’s LittleNip:
AS SUMMER SLIPS AWAY
—Joyce Odam
Summer was sweet when summer was
new—even the ending days that
fall into autumn, days that
follow into winter
where winter is its own.
____________________
Many thanks to songbirds Joyce and Robin Gale Odam for their poetry today and for Robin’s photos! Today they are singing to us about summer’s end, our Seed of the Week, “As Summer Slips Away”.
Our new Seed of the Week is for Labor Day, but could be broader: “Workshop”. 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
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy
of Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
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.
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!
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.
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!
bambambambam
bambambambam—
woodpeckers have no respect
for the walls between us…
