If Time Should Fit
—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
MORNING’S NEIGHBORHOOD CROW
—Joyce Odam
Morning’s neighborhood crow
cries out, pulls me from my
reverie of words, echoes
itself, until I am involved
and listen to its story.
The window is not yet filled
with sun, but with the first
soft gray of morning. I drift
into a state of sleepiness,
close my eyes and wait for
the intermittent caws to
sound again. I don’t know
when they cease. I drift
asleep and the far sounds
merge, and time slips by into
another hour. Somehow it all
fits: a drone of plane, a slam
of door, a carrying voice, the
hum that begins and builds from
all sides of my center. Soon
everything is loud again—
that loudness we tune out to
sort away. The crow is not
part of this—it’s long since
finished what it had to say of
morning’s first flat page to
speak upon. A siren pierces…
wavers…dwindles off…and soon
the day is rendered to a hum.
From chapbook, The Power of the Moment, 1998
by Roger Langton, Red Cedar Press (of Colorado)
—Joyce Odam
Morning’s neighborhood crow
cries out, pulls me from my
reverie of words, echoes
itself, until I am involved
and listen to its story.
The window is not yet filled
with sun, but with the first
soft gray of morning. I drift
into a state of sleepiness,
close my eyes and wait for
the intermittent caws to
sound again. I don’t know
when they cease. I drift
asleep and the far sounds
merge, and time slips by into
another hour. Somehow it all
fits: a drone of plane, a slam
of door, a carrying voice, the
hum that begins and builds from
all sides of my center. Soon
everything is loud again—
that loudness we tune out to
sort away. The crow is not
part of this—it’s long since
finished what it had to say of
morning’s first flat page to
speak upon. A siren pierces…
wavers…dwindles off…and soon
the day is rendered to a hum.
From chapbook, The Power of the Moment, 1998
by Roger Langton, Red Cedar Press (of Colorado)
Rhyme of Color
THANK YOU FOR THE ROSES
—Joyce Odam
it is now i must write of
your hands
hard against flowers
the roses you bring
making a sadness
against your skin
and there they linger
bringing me nearer
for the kiss of both of you
it is not only roses
that you touch
so differently
but my face
when you give them to me
with wounded hands
From Thorns, Poems by Joyce Odam (chapbook
published by Joyce Odam, Choice of Words Press,
2003); also pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 4/15/14
it is now i must write of
your hands
hard against flowers
the roses you bring
making a sadness
against your skin
and there they linger
bringing me nearer
for the kiss of both of you
it is not only roses
that you touch
so differently
but my face
when you give them to me
with wounded hands
From Thorns, Poems by Joyce Odam (chapbook
published by Joyce Odam, Choice of Words Press,
2003); also pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 4/15/14
Something About Touch
ACCESSORY
—Joyce Odam
You have been standing
a long, long time
with the stolen rose
in your hand,
waiting to complete
your act of giving.
And now that the bush
has stopped its trembling
and the garden’s beast
is healing the wound
of beauty
in his tragic mind,
I come to you
in my furtive plunder
of receiving.
From Thorns, Poems by Joyce Odam (chapbook
published by Joyce Odam, Choice of Words Press,
2003)
You have been standing
a long, long time
with the stolen rose
in your hand,
waiting to complete
your act of giving.
And now that the bush
has stopped its trembling
and the garden’s beast
is healing the wound
of beauty
in his tragic mind,
I come to you
in my furtive plunder
of receiving.
From Thorns, Poems by Joyce Odam (chapbook
published by Joyce Odam, Choice of Words Press,
2003)
The Shred of Time
SPILLING
—Joyce Odam
she sits by the yellow roses
she sits by the yellow bananas
she sits leaning against the sunlit wall
her hair is pale yellow
it shines with electricity
her bracelet makes bright flashings
as she talks and gestures
her full cup with the spoon in it
From Thorns, Poems by Joyce Odam (chapbook
published by Joyce Odam, Choice of Words Press,
2003)
My Reverie
INSOMNIA XXXIV
—Robin Gale Odam
the birds in the third shift,
the moving prelude of a season
changing overnight
the long train leaves the city
the metronome of the second hand
measures the spell
(prev. pub. in Brevities, September 2018 )
___________________
BITTER CELERY SOUP
—Robin Gale Odam
The boy is twenty-four…sterile
corridor…father prays before white
on white on white door after door
after door…carpet art deco to belie
worry, plush to quiet footsteps of
visitors and the curious…lunch is
bitter celery soup.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 8/24/11)
To Blue
THE MUSICAL SAW
—Joyce Odam
We never learned his
name but one night
in a ho-hum bar
out of the rain
in he came
and took a chair and
from his coat
pulled out a music-saw
ignored us all
and began to play
with such slow effort
to obtain
and then sustain
true tone
but how he tried
and he was
almost good
we were
so charmed
we sat and listened
as each wrought sound
trembled from
his heart
and his work-hands
in home-spun art.
From Among the Others by Joyce Odam,
pub. in 2000 by Talent House Press,
Talent, Oregon; also pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen,
pub. in 2000 by Talent House Press,
Talent, Oregon; also pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen,
1/16/18
Taken in Context
MAN WITH CIGARETTE
—Joyce Odam
Now you stand in shadow,
a man with a cigarette…
now you take on the shadow
like a profound opinion…
now you move, one way,
then another…
now your cigarette burns down,
and you pace a bit…
now you come back into the room
and sit down on a gray chair…
now you are done with this small
and pointless story…
of which you are main character
and simple plot, taken in context.
From chapbook, The Power of the Moment, 1998
by Roger Langton, Red Cedar Press (of Colorado)
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
WHENEVER TIME
—Joyce Odam
You bring me
a beautiful,
ruined,
leaf,
on
this day.
More to it
than time, if
time should fit.
_____________________
Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam are back with us this morning, talking about light and time—and musical saws! Our thanks to them for their poems and photos as autumn creeps up on us.
Our new Seed of the Week is “Titillation”. 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
—Cartoon Courtesy of Public Domain
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!
(A cookie from the Kitchen for today):
squirrel rockets
up the redwood—
murder-by-cat
narrowly
averted
today…