Pages

Monday, July 29, 2024

Roadblocks

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

* * *

—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Sue Crisp, Sayani Mukherjee, and Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Visuals Courtesy of Joe Nolan
and Medusa
  

ROADBLOCKS
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY


Summer is a red-barrel roadblock.
It’s a season I detest.

Tourists pull their campers through
our small town for the road
trip of their dreams.

Rodeos call for herds of trailers
bringing horses to compete.

Motorcycles vroom and sparkle,
taking all the parking spaces.
Sturgis Rally is their goal.

Road construction clogs up traffic.
Must be done before the winter freeze.

Miller moths, flies, and mosquitos
join the tourists for fine dining,
crawling shadows through the sunlight.

I can’t wait for change to autumn,
when the roadblocks go away.
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Joe Nolan


TRIGGER HAPPY?
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Diversion is my daily route—
distraction from the aches or pains—
my purpose when the muse enjoyed
with Wordle, Quordle—take your pick—
those word games of another kind
which yet have reason, be employed.

Road signage says you can’t get through,
so told for your convenience
to save the wasted journey time.
Though does it warn or more, direct,
for who decides what bars the path—
could they achieve the same with rhyme?

But when your high way, search for truth,
may be just, inconvenient
then highway men may block your course
because that path lays bare what lies
beneath the surface tension splayed,
full force of scandal at its source.  

Now trigger warnings claim to save
an upset, which unwary face;
each gallery, each galley proof
of poems, novel, baring fruit—
remember that low-hanging thought—
as starting pistols—fireproof.

The Song of Solomon too ripe,
while Shakespeare excised, risqué cut,
the Graeco-Roman sculptures draped
as were piano’s naked legs.
But when our literature is banned,
exemplar how our culture shaped.
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo 
Courtesy of Joe Nolan


SURVIVOR
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

In this world of chaos,
what do I see?
tt seems there’s no longer
a place on this earth for me.
 
Raging destruction
of nature, once so pure,
leaving only particles
of what it could not endure.
 
The clouds drip their ice tears
on land parched by fire, wind and sun.
Soon no sanctuary will be left for anyone.
 
Brave bull, to see this course of nature through.
You’ve held steadfast.  It’s the best you can do.
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan


MEMORY
—Sayani Mukherjee,
Chandannagar, W. Bengal, India


A large promenade over my head
The sound escapes as riverfalls
Bright blue steamy like the divine ocean
My mind blows over the Meadows
The chickens chirp as evening goes by
The ocean mast fall over its deduction of
masses
The prairies blow high over the altars
I skim and pine for the forests
The nature's handgrown misery till it saddles
over my
Ghost-naming diaries
The fisher queen stays at night
Between the bright barricades
The sylvan spree took a leap high
For it commingles with the memory. 
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan


SIZZLE UP THE SAUCE
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

Spread the sauce.
Turn up the heat—
Just enough to make it sizzle.

Make it sweet.
There’s nothing wrong
With food that’s tasty.
Make a special treat.

Invite some friends.
Celebrate how pleasure never ends
When recipes
Handed down
For generations
Make another round
At out tables
With women
Surely able
To whip things up
And spread them out
In front of smiling faces.

Everyone to their places!
The pièce de la résistance
Is being brought.
It’s quiet now
As people swallow
From mouths
Already full of water.

When we can’t afford
To eat junk-food
Anymore
From McD’s, B.K.’s,
Wendy’s and Taco Bell
We’ll eat at home.
We’ll rediscover
The pleasure
Of being together
Eating things that taste
So much better
Than junk-food-on-the-run.
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan


BEGGING IN NEED
—Joe Nolan

We ran out
Of all we needed
And went begging
On the road.

When poverty
Needs generosity
You bear a
Heavy load.

Not everyone
Is kind and generous.
Many try to find fault
About your situation
So they won’t
Have to give at all
And feel virtuous
For refusing.
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan


OLD FRIENDS
—Joe Nolan

Old friends are like mercy-sex—
Devotion and the love of God
Becoming ever-stranger
With the passing years—
A twisted head,
A missing thread
Increasing volume
For their ears.

You do it for the love of man—
Keep coming back for more,
There’s joy in recognition
Adding to the lifetime stories
More tales not heard before
Filling in some missing pieces
In puzzles from days of yore.

How could it possibly be
That after all these years,
To each other
We’re still mysteries,
After all these years?
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Joe Nolan


FADING IN SUNLIGHT FOR LIBERTY
—Joe Nolan

That’s a play.
It’s a day.
Everything of brilliant color
Is fade-away,
In the lamp of sunlight,
Day after day,
When rays of sun
Attack our colors’ play.

How to fade
Without betrayal
Of every brilliant color
We hold dear?

Underneath rainbows,
We drew near,
Found ourselves
Together,
Marching hand-in-hand
For common cause.

Onward, always onward.
Ours, in common cause,
Held together.
Marching without pause,
We hold together.
Liberty, our cause, forever.

_____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.

—George Orwell

_____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to our contributors, some of whom wrote to us about our Seed of the Week, Roadblocks. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week. 
 
A note that SnakePal Nolcha Fox is recovering well from her recent surgery, and another SnakePal, Taylor Graham, celebrated her birthday yesterday. Cheers to both of them!
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan


















 
 
 
 
 
A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
features 
A Mid-Summer's Open Mic
tonight at 7:30pm.
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!
 
Is it safe out there yet?