—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
* * *
—Poetry by Sue Crisp, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Nolcha Fox, Melissa Lemay, Caschwa,
Sayani Mukherjee, and Joe Nolan
—Illustration Courtesy of Melissa Lemay
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joe Nolan
and Medusa
* * *
—Poetry by Sue Crisp, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Nolcha Fox, Melissa Lemay, Caschwa,
Sayani Mukherjee, and Joe Nolan
—Illustration Courtesy of Melissa Lemay
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joe Nolan
and Medusa
GRUMPY?
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA
Grumpy? How can you even think that?
I’m Sugar Sweet.
All those who meet me
say, “it’s quite a treat.”
My soft brown eyes
always get their attention.
And my shiny fur
is almost too soft to mention.
Yes, I may have
a bit of an over-bite.
But my doggie dentist
says it’s just right.
And how about the Diamond
in the middle of my forehead?
Shows I’m quite a jewel...
‘nough said..
So, take another look
and tell me what you see.
Just a soft ball of fur.
Grumpy? Surely you can’t mean me!!!
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA
Grumpy? How can you even think that?
I’m Sugar Sweet.
All those who meet me
say, “it’s quite a treat.”
My soft brown eyes
always get their attention.
And my shiny fur
is almost too soft to mention.
Yes, I may have
a bit of an over-bite.
But my doggie dentist
says it’s just right.
And how about the Diamond
in the middle of my forehead?
Shows I’m quite a jewel...
‘nough said..
So, take another look
and tell me what you see.
Just a soft ball of fur.
Grumpy? Surely you can’t mean me!!!
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
GRUMPS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
A foolish subject for the muse—
why set such unattractive theme
that concentrates on moaning men
who always make their presence felt—
no welcome present in gift set
like socks again, a scarf, felt hat—
a bore, so ill deserving thanks.
I grit my teeth, but I’ll not smile—
too many muscles, wasted strength;
they say the same when frown is worn,
but furrowed brow seems natural.
There are too many positive
with gracious smiles and lack of bile—
what gall to bear their happy stance.
I don’t need etymology
to know those grumpy when meet me;
surprised to see its snuffling past
is Scottish ‘grumphie’ for a pig,
when I think swine agreeable—
aspersions cast, like pearls about,
while they are snouting truffles out.
Then synonyms, some twenty list,
as if the globe be populate
irascible and fiery folk,
prone peevish, grouchy, petulant,
queue cranky, crabby, choleric,
of crotchety, sting snarky wasps.
So is it catching, petty fog?
If overused, stale standards set?
Descriptions cease to be distinct
and irritate this testy me.
Preponderance, complainers all;
I’m sick and tired, the lot of them;
but can it be, genetic trait,
that grumpiness stays my lot too?
It’s not so far from Gramps to Grumps;
I notice grandkids mispronounce,
or Freudian, their slip announced?
Their ‘party-pooper’, well deserved,
for all balloons, please photo cheese,
thin paper plates, long party games,
so I retreat, grouse, grimace face.
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Joe Nolan
I JUST CAN’T SAY IT
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
What I need to say to you
is acid reflux, a swan dive
into a volcano.
You won’t cry. You won’t let
me walk out the door
alive.
—Illustration by Melissa Lemay (w/Microsoft Designer)
GROCERY SHOPPING IS AN OLYMPIC SPORT
—Melissa Lemay, Lancaster Country, PA
Throw apples in the cart.
Strawberries are on sale—buy two
get one free. I don’t need three.
I don’t need strawberries.
Bananas to go rotten. Check.
Cruising to the deli counter
to pick up sliced turkey breast
and whatever cheese I decide on
while I’m there.
I need peanut butter,
bread, they tell you to keep
near the perimeter of the store.
Have to double back. Forgot
coffee.
(Background noise gradually coming into focus)
Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!
Can we get cookies?
They’re touching things.
Keep your hands away from the glass jars!
(Getting louder)
I want juice. Can I get juice?
Can I get…
Can I get…
Can I get…
Can I get…
I need to get the —— out of here. Shit,
I forgot pretzels. Circle back.
Frozen pizza, mac and cheese.
All this processed garbage. I remember
back when it was just me and I
actually ate healthy things. Oh well;
we’re all going to die one day.
Forgot to keep track of the total.
I know I have at least $200
on this card. Those frozen yogurt
bars look really good. Novelties.
Just get the mac and cheese.
To the pasta aisle,
I must look crazy going back
and forth through the store like this.
Alright, I think I’m done.
To the checkout aisle.
Pay with three different cards.
Kids are jumping on things.
Smile at the cashier.
This is why I do drive-up, I say and laugh.
Get out of people’s way!
Three-year-old almost gets plowed over by
a cart.
No worries! Not your fault. He he.
Deep breaths.
Thank you very much! Have a nice day.
Racing to the exit.
Everything loaded in the car,
managed to keep the kids out of all…
except one bag of goldfish.
Buckle your seatbelts while I take
the cart back!
Press the ignition button.
Shit.
I forgot the pretzels.
—Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Joe Nolan
THE BIG ABORTION DISTRACTION
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
like everything else, it is all about the money
if the life of the offspring of a mom and dad
is allowed to or guided to die in the womb, or
is removed from the womb, no matter how valid
the medical reason, it cuts off whole streams of
commerce that bring in huge profits to many
business enterprises
no baby showers, greetings cards, baby set
furniture, toys and dolls, diapers or diaper services,
photo shoots, playground equipment and
experiences,
college savings accounts, insurance, legal services
no textbook purchases, or tutoring, or rental
apartments while attending college, or all that
athletic gear and paraphernalia
gone are the dating, engagement, and wedding
rings,
bridal showers, fancy restaurants, limos, honey-
moons,
elaborate receptions, shopping for that first house,
that is why big business is banning abortion; they
don’t
care if you retire your old, unmarketable car to the
junkyard, even if it still runs, but if you have a baby
with
major, terminal problems you must keep it inside
of you
for as long as it takes to allow every opportunity
for those
revenue streams to prosper; and if that fails, don’t
look to
big business or big money religion to actually give
a shit.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
UNDER THE BIG GONG
(response to a recent Seed of the Week, Fathering)
—Caschwa
what do we do here?
don’t ask that question again
what is my title?
Argus the Bogus Focus
camera expert
extraordinaire with a flair
some connection with
the famous Bohemian Club
very selective
males only, with special traits
I inherited
my Dad’s gong, sits in garage
the rest remains a
mystery, story untold
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
FLOWER
—Sayani Mukherjee,
Chandannagar, W. Bengal, India
The beautiful white of musked roses
Smelled heavenly as I longed to see
A bright torpedo colour of blue skim
The butterfly vision over me
As I stranded over the cliffs of greenery
I swam a great high
Poetry is like flowers
Bright beautiful pansies in a summer day
The long twisted hauled letters smiled at me
Mailed by the night circus of grappling intensity
As I turned around and saw the zeal of
monsoon rain
Little sprinkled water of bucketed truth
As the flowers fell over my tip-toed joy.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
HOME
—Sayani Mukherjee
A stately home of decorated lamps
The wall blew of homegrown facts
A limerick of two-penced walls
A mark on the wall, a safeguard of rubbles
A thick-mossed cottage, a writing on home
Homegrown homesickness around my gaze
The seashore of shattered lamps a pain in
my left bruise
I know not yonder thee a maverick lost canopy
Molten raindrops abound thy skin
The flower grew among starlit bones
It asks for home too
A nihilist painstaking two-fold grimace
A soft-paced milkywave to land my moonwalled
trance.
'40s Dodge
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
USED CAR AD
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
No rips,
Tears, holes
Or signs of excessive wear.
Nothing to deter you
From investing in
My mechanical bear.
Or maybe it’s a buffalo?
Not old enough
To be a dinosaur
Or taken to an
Elephant’s graveyard.
It’s not
Covered in rust
Or all banged-up.
It still runs well.
Its paint still shines.
You won’t be embarrassed
To show up anywhere
That doesn’t need
A tuxedo.
It’s just a
Middlin’
Respectable car
That can take you
Near or far.
So if you need
Some wheels to roll
Just give me a call.
I’m flexible on
When I can show it.
(also known as wind wings)
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE
—Joe Nolan
I’m gonna be happy
With my
Little chuck of cheese
And nibble it
When I’m hungry.
Not that I
Live on cheese, alone.
I also love
Our loaf of bread
And thou!
Everything in its
Perfect measure,
Where happiness abounds--
After all,
We’re right in the middle
Where the universe surrounds.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
A BONNIE FOR MY CLYDE
—Joe Nolan
I need to find a Bonnie
To match my inner-Clyde
Willing to keep my secrets
And rob banks
By my side.
Someone to be my gun-moll
And watch out for the law
Ready to lay down her life,
When the F.B.I.
Catches up to us,
Opens fire
Without warning
And gets us
After all.
We’ll lead a life of desperation
Running from town to town
Camping out in the country
Gunning law-men down.
We’ll have quite an adventure
As long as it will last—
Better than starving
Selling pencils
In this desperate Depression.
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Joe Nolan
EXTENDED MOMENTS OF MUTUAL
FERMENTATION
—Joe Nolan
I’m only in it for the music,
For the mix of threads,
The tapestry,
I’m only in it for the beauty,
Only in it
For the present moment
That drifts along through hours
Through so many days,
Only in it for my
Lovely darling
Who makes me shine
Like fruit
Gives rise to wine,
Stewed in barrels
For years.
There’s much to be said
For long-term fermentation,
For slow-cooking stew.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
TAKING IN THE VIEW
—Caschwa
I could feel the sky looking at me
asking why, oh why, was I not a tree?
so I stretched out my limbs like
Sunrise, the Vincent Van Gogh oil
and allowed my roots to bathe in the soil
______________________
Thanks to our contributors today, including Newbie Melissa Lemay, who lives in Pennsylvania with her three children, four cats, and a dog. She writes, “I love to write. I’m pretty much always writing.”
Our Seed of the Week was Grumpy, as you can tell by all the grumpiness spread across today’s post. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.
_______________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Joe Nolan
A reminder that
Poetry in Motion meets today
in Placerville, 10:30am;
Susan Keely-DeWitt reads at
Sacramento Poetry Center
tonight, 7:30pm; and today is
the deadline for Tule Review.
For info about these and
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!
Poetry in Motion meets today
in Placerville, 10:30am;
Susan Keely-DeWitt reads at
Sacramento Poetry Center
tonight, 7:30pm; and today is
the deadline for Tule Review.
For info about these and
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!
