—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
SHELTER
I felt you smiling at me in the dark.
My heart leaped with innocent, untarnished joy.
We giggled like children,
Sharing jokes, touching hands,
Reveling in our mutual affection.
Your happiness shone like a brilliant light,
Leading me to your side.
And when I lay down beside you,
My head upon your chest,
You clasped me in a sheltering embrace.
I felt you smiling at me in the dark.
My heart leaped with innocent, untarnished joy.
We giggled like children,
Sharing jokes, touching hands,
Reveling in our mutual affection.
Your happiness shone like a brilliant light,
Leading me to your side.
And when I lay down beside you,
My head upon your chest,
You clasped me in a sheltering embrace.
MOTHER’S DAY
Mother’s Day brought storm clouds into your eyes,
Thunderclaps of anger,
And memories too deep and painful to ignore.
I felt your rage wash over me
Like a giant tsunami.
“I’m not your mother,” I cried,
Fending off the violent tempest inside.
You raised your hand to strike,
And I ducked the calculated blow.
“She’s dead. It’s over. Let it go.”
My words shook you,
And tears moistened your eyes.
“I hated her for hurting me,” you said,
“But I loved her, too.”
“I know, I know,” I cooed like a mother dove
And held you in my arms.
Mother’s Day brought storm clouds into your eyes,
Thunderclaps of anger,
And memories too deep and painful to ignore.
I felt your rage wash over me
Like a giant tsunami.
“I’m not your mother,” I cried,
Fending off the violent tempest inside.
You raised your hand to strike,
And I ducked the calculated blow.
“She’s dead. It’s over. Let it go.”
My words shook you,
And tears moistened your eyes.
“I hated her for hurting me,” you said,
“But I loved her, too.”
“I know, I know,” I cooed like a mother dove
And held you in my arms.
UNBEARABLE
I stand at the edge of eternity, gazing out over
the abyss.
The darkness breathes like a living animal.
I turn around to discover the source,
And it’s you, standing behind me in the blackness,
Reaching out to me.
Your need is palpable, pulsating with the gloom
of despair
And the deep-rooted pain of melancholy.
Help me, you plead, and my heart reacts with
desperate longing
To touch you and feel your fingers slide along
my skin.
Inner voices warn, Don’t touch!
My soul opens to receive your pain,
And we are conjoined as twins,
Lost in the confusion of bleak despondency.
Is this living or dying? I want to know.
Where is this hell in which we find ourselves?
You slip away into the shadows and my feeling
of loss
Is unbearable. . . unbearable. . .
I stand at the edge of eternity, gazing out over
the abyss.
The darkness breathes like a living animal.
I turn around to discover the source,
And it’s you, standing behind me in the blackness,
Reaching out to me.
Your need is palpable, pulsating with the gloom
of despair
And the deep-rooted pain of melancholy.
Help me, you plead, and my heart reacts with
desperate longing
To touch you and feel your fingers slide along
my skin.
Inner voices warn, Don’t touch!
My soul opens to receive your pain,
And we are conjoined as twins,
Lost in the confusion of bleak despondency.
Is this living or dying? I want to know.
Where is this hell in which we find ourselves?
You slip away into the shadows and my feeling
of loss
Is unbearable. . . unbearable. . .
INDULGENCE
You feast on sweet fantasies
Of naked bodies mingling in the dark
And yearn for the honey-dipped words
I drop in your ears.
~
I indulge myself with chocolate-covered nuggets:
I love you—miss you—need you—want you—
Can’t live without you!
And wait for you to appear at my door.
~
But reality is not fantasy.
I bite my lips until they bleed,
Holding back the spiteful words I long to say
When you burn me with your caustic tongue.
~
My heart melts in my chest, leaving an empty
cavern
Filled with rage and fantasy deeds
That make me question my sanity
And the lengths I’m prepared to go to get revenge.
FATHER SUN
Father Sun rises from his bed with boastful pride,
A mighty warrior from the East
Waving his fiery sword across the heavens.
Adored as a god, worshipped as a king,
Blessed as a source of fire and heat,
He dominates the earth with paternalistic strength,
Sending down his life-affirming rays to support
new life
And fill the world with his healing radiance.
At noon, he watches from above,
Showering his love upon his dedicated followers.
But as the day wears on, and he makes his travels
across the sky,
His energy wanes. Yawning with fatigue,
He makes one last colorful display of power,
Falls slowly into bed, and dreams.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
—James Baldwin
____________________
Dawn Pisturino visited us earlier this year for the first time, and we welcome her back today. She is a retired nurse in Golden Valley, Arizona, whose international publishing credits include poems, short stories, and articles. Her first poetry book, Ariel’s Song: Published Poems, 1987–2023, was recently released to positive reviews by her imprint, Horse Mesa Press. Her poetry has appeared in several anthologies, most recently in Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology; Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women; and the 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Arizona Authors Association, and PEN America. Welcome back, Dawn, and don't be a stranger!
Father Sun rises from his bed with boastful pride,
A mighty warrior from the East
Waving his fiery sword across the heavens.
Adored as a god, worshipped as a king,
Blessed as a source of fire and heat,
He dominates the earth with paternalistic strength,
Sending down his life-affirming rays to support
new life
And fill the world with his healing radiance.
At noon, he watches from above,
Showering his love upon his dedicated followers.
But as the day wears on, and he makes his travels
across the sky,
His energy wanes. Yawning with fatigue,
He makes one last colorful display of power,
Falls slowly into bed, and dreams.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
—James Baldwin
____________________
Dawn Pisturino visited us earlier this year for the first time, and we welcome her back today. She is a retired nurse in Golden Valley, Arizona, whose international publishing credits include poems, short stories, and articles. Her first poetry book, Ariel’s Song: Published Poems, 1987–2023, was recently released to positive reviews by her imprint, Horse Mesa Press. Her poetry has appeared in several anthologies, most recently in Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology; Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women; and the 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Arizona Authors Association, and PEN America. Welcome back, Dawn, and don't be a stranger!
For more from Dawn, go to http://www.dawnpisturino.wordpress.com/.
____________________
—Medusa
A remind that
Mahogany Urban Poetry Series
present JRowe in Sacramento
tonight plus open mic, 7pm.
For info about this and other
future 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—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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!
Mahogany Urban Poetry Series
present JRowe in Sacramento
tonight plus open mic, 7pm.
For info about this and other
future 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—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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!
