—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Julie A. Dickson
GIVE HIM A BONE
I didn’t know
what paddy-wack meant
and I never had a dog
but rolling home
is something we all know
after back woods parties
listening to guitars, singing
Dead songs under the stars;
even saw Aurora Borealis once
sky lit up almost like midday,
kids singing and drinking.
I’ve rolled my brother home
a few times, cleaned up his sick
so mom wouldn’t know, but she did
and then wouldn’t you know,
they got a dog for him and now
I know what paddy-wack means.
My brother hits and kicks that dog,
as much as dad hits him.
I just stay quiet, under the night sky,
look out my window singing softly.
I didn’t know
what paddy-wack meant
and I never had a dog
but rolling home
is something we all know
after back woods parties
listening to guitars, singing
Dead songs under the stars;
even saw Aurora Borealis once
sky lit up almost like midday,
kids singing and drinking.
I’ve rolled my brother home
a few times, cleaned up his sick
so mom wouldn’t know, but she did
and then wouldn’t you know,
they got a dog for him and now
I know what paddy-wack means.
My brother hits and kicks that dog,
as much as dad hits him.
I just stay quiet, under the night sky,
look out my window singing softly.
WINDOW HAS A STORY TO TELL
Watch pale filmy curtain billow
framed against my bedroom window,
each small gust of air like breath,
from my bed I hear the sea, its
story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.
Footfalls echo, wooden treads
past walls of faded paper threads
vantage point near rocky shore,
through open window seabirds tell
story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.
Obscured by fabric window frame,
sunset glows as candle flame,
charcoal etched upon a cloudless sky,
gauzy curtain coats my dream, a
story told for each tomorrow
tales recalled of yesteryear;
breath exhaled with every ocean swell
this window has a story to tell.
BREW
Darkly rich
fragrant words
percolating
Mother’s ancient coffee pot
basket and hollow rod
glass knob mesmerized
eyes locked on each swish
Black ink
touched paper
words in time
Looked up, noticed an expression
on my face, failed to recognize
an inner writer—scribed lines
I couldn’t have spoken aloud
Swish again
metronomed
synchronized
Notebook filled with verse
poured from me, coffee to cup
richly brewed, burning hot
and just as dark
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Begin challenging your assumptions. Your assumptions are the windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in awhile or the light won’t come in.
—Alan Alda
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Julie Dickson for today’s fine poems and for sending us photos to go with them~
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
For 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!
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!
