In Praise of Sticktoitiveness

Perseverance, Our Seed of the Week

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

* * *

—Poetry by Claire J. Baker, Stephen Kingsnorth, 

Caschwa, Sue Crisp, Karma Howard,
Sayanı Mukherjee, Joe Nolan, and Nolcha Fox
—Visuals Courtesy of Sue Crisp,
Karma Howard, and Medusa

 

 

A HAIRLINE FRACTURE  

         senior apartment living  
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

(Inspired by Medusa’s photo above)

Linda, an elder, fell hard
against her apartment wall,
upper arm badly bruised!

A hairline shoulder fracture
anchored her in hospital
for pain relief . . . A flower

must have grown in that crack
for now Linda is back—in a week
or so, soon as mischievous as ever? 

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Medusa

PERSEVERANCE
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

It sounds like handbag, purse for cash—
that’s how we start to hear the term;
then cutting and a harsher word,
for sever and severe in tone,
as if the bank is calling loan
and I’m indebted, hanging on.

Or hanging in there while I may,
determined, not so undermined;
against the grain, like slicing meat—
but me give in, or persevere,
still stand my ground till in the clear—
that balance read soon turned back black?

So purchases must be curtailed—
that sense of stance ’bove solid hold,
to gain advantage, foothold deck;
whatever winds, not veer aside,
nor tack—sails, rudder, all applied,
to steer me, spendthrift, on my course.

Ignoring channels on the box—
a tidal flow of shopping needs,
I censor cheap attractive trash—
for nature broadcasts opt instead.
I’ve bought lawn mowers, plants to bed,
a shed, new tools at cutting edge.

So now the bank’s severe again—
not newly built grass slope I mean—
but greenback monster holding safe;
just sever costs, your purse, they moan—
there’s no more cash by way of loan..
My perseverance didn’t pay.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Medusa

OY VEY SURVEYS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

first of all, I am NOT a
panel of experts, just one
unpaid amateur

so when I show up at a
medical office to have a
doctor examine an area
that may need some surgical
intervention, and shortly after
that visit concludes they rush
me a survey to complete

I have no standing to rate that
doctor on his or her knowledge,
experience, or efficiency, we
just haven’t been there yet

so it is like we are both in our
casual street clothes out on
the sidewalk, standing at a
newspaper rack, neither
one of us having any
news to share with
the other, but then
there’s this survey
please be patient,
and wait. 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

BEFORE BAR MITZVAH
—Caschwa

Junior High School—pretense and posturing
out of nowhere—strange hormonal changes
Hebrew School—like mastering one piece
    at the piano, afterwards complete
    dud at sight reading

The Big Event—air with oxygen is rare to find,
    hiding behind colognes and perfumes

Got handshakes, gifts, money, smiles, then
looked around and was given pause to wonder

all these other fellows, including uncles,
who had their Bar Mitzvah well ahead of mine,
are they fully fluent in Hebrew, or is that now
just unclaimed baggage stashed in storage?

 

 

 

 Cat Gang
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

FOREGONE CONCLUSIONS
—Caschwa

forget about jurisprudence, the
Rule of Law, Due Process,
established Case Law, our beloved
Constitution, just put that             to the side

all you need are a few favorite
opinions you’ve heard other
people spout and you can be a
profiler extraordinaire

go up to any microphone armed
with your foregone conclusions
and put on the airs of an expert
in the field

talk about blacks and women like
they are second-class citizens or
lower, and cite all the “proof”
you have heard other people shout

sorry, SHOUT!! from the rooftops
offering fodder for the proposition
that we are just the States, NOT
the United States, because we can’t
be united until everyone believes
the very same as you, put that         to the side

if only big government wasn’t always
meddling in our affairs, then we could
have a peaceful nation; do               as I say…

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

FOREST WHISPERS
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

Forest trees speak to one another in many languages, depending on the species.  They speak of young seedlings sprouting at their base and surrounding areas due to their dropping of tree seed bearing seeds, helpful birds, squirrels, and other seed eating dwellers.  They sensed the change of seasons and responded in kind.  They saw new growth as well as devastation due to forest fires and man's destructive greed.  They saw their elders fall with grace and give back to the earth the nutrients it had provided for them and shelter for forest animals.  They showed thanks for nature's gifts.  Their leaf whispers carry on the wind their stories to one another as old and new generations listen.

 

 

 

 Samson, Karma Howard’s Corn Snake Pal
—Photo by Karma Howard

DREAMCATCHER
—Karma Howard, Memphis, TN

What have you to say
Harbinger of truth
Unknown entity
Sent to chastise me

What have you to do
Great serpentine god
With glittering eyes
And bright onyx skin

What message will come
As your gaping mouth
Glides up to my face
Long body in tow

What force will you use
As I stand my ground
And patiently wait
The verdict you give

What pose will you strike
When you hold my gaze
And see that I am
Unmoved, unafraid

What battle ensue
Between you and me
A fight to the death
Not this—to the life

What will you transform
As we grapple there
The might of myself
Embracing you whole

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

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

The tiny necklace at my back
The spasmodic rhythm of the divine
At my worst I call a light
It's divided and careless
Fidgety spinning all around
The globe moves on
It's an autumn child they called
Few hydrangeas lay at my desk
I call and back to tell the truth
The divine rhythm all around us
To a matchstick it hinges upon
As I knew the summer from autumn
Where lie little fishes into my bowl. 

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

IN A DIFFICULT MARKET
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

When no one
Has any money,
Nothing can be
Sold.

We venture into
The dearth
Of markets,
As in
Days of old,

When peasants
Went out
Swinging items,
Up and down
The street,

Up and down,
All day-long,
Until an item meets
With a willing buyer,
Which granted a
Bright reprieve.

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

DUST-FREE PLACES
—Joe Nolan

There are fancy places
Where nothing gathers dust
Because armies of cleaning-ladies
Sweat to feed their kids
Left behind
By departed fathers
D.A.’s fail to trace down
To hand them bills
For their children’s support.

Fancy and clean
Though they may be,
They do not reflect
Reality,
Except for alienation,
Brought on by
Broken families
With children
Left alone
Or with sitters,
Since their mothers
Can’t stay home
With them
To be an
Unbroken family.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Medusa

ONE WORLD GOVERNMENT
—Joe Nolan        

We now serve the Devil,
Now that power’s won,
Power to annihilate
Over everyone.

When you serve the Devil,
Be quick, be sure, be true.
Never say a single word
About your duties-rued.

Lest the steamroller
Turn upon you,
Crush you under its wheels.
The Devil doesn’t give a whit
For how a minion feels.

The Devil may devour
Millions by the score
“As many as it takes,” he says,
And when we have our power, here,
We’ll start another war,

To spread our Revolution
Over every land
Until, in the final end,
The Devil has command
Over every human
On the planet Earth,
Teaching all our children
They’re just made out of dirt.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

GRACE AND DISPLACEMENT
—Joe Nolan

Grace displaced
By false grace,
Masquerading
From a lesser place.
Underneath,
An undertow—
A rip-tide that might
carry you away.

Grace,
A place
You choose to be in,
Circling yourself
In a cloud
Of bright energy.

Displaced
By distraction,
Called to other things.
When shall you return
To your state of grace
That awaits you,
Your ever-patient lover?

It’s only a question of time
And your state of mind
Until your bright, soft cloud
Once again surrounds,
As you chant your mantra,
With Divinity to bind.   

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

PERSEVERANCE
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Tell me I’m a bird that flies
against a gale-force wind,
a flowing stream that
takes its time to wear
the boulders smooth.
Tell me that I won’t give up,
that I will persevere.
I will smile, I know that I’m
just plain old stupid stubborn.

___________________

Thanks to our contributors today for fine work, some of it about our Seed of the Week, Perseverance. And welcome to the Kitchen to newcomer Karma Howard and to her SnakePal, Samson!

 

Speaking of perseverance, my wee tomato plants which were ravaged recently by Mama (Jane) Doe to became a subject of one of our Seeds of the Week have persevered, replacing their leaves, and now sprouting blossoms, a forecast of tomatoes to come. Shh—don't tell Mama Doe... 

And a reminder that poets everywhere will be celebrating Sacramento’s Joyce Odam’s 100th birthday (which is Wednesday, August 7) at the Hart Center in Sacramento tomorrow, Tuesday August 6, at 2pm. For more info about Joyce and this coming Do, go to http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/07/repercussions-of-light.html/. Joyce is a long-time contributor to the Kitchen, and to Rattlesnake Press before that. Happy Birthday, Joyce! I bet you’ve learned a bit about perseverance in 100 years…

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Lara Gularte’s Ekphrastic workshop
will meet in Placerville today, 5:30pm;
and Sacramento Poetry Center
features Terry Freeman Moore
tonight, 7:30pm.
For info about these 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.

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 Party on!