The Enchantment That Is Medusa

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of
Michael Dwayne Smith, Apple Valley, CA

* * *

—Poetry by Victor Kennedy, Nolcha Fox,
Sayani Mukherjee, Stephen Kingsnorth, 

Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Michael Dwayne Smith, Joe Nolan,
Stephen Kingsnorth, and Medusa 

MEDUSA
—Victor Kennedy, Maribor, Slovenia

Hi, my name’s Medusa. How you doing?
Oh, the snakes.
Don’t mind them.
They mind their own business
Most of the time
They can get a bit defensive, though.

Don’t like snakes?
Well, everybody’s got their phobia, I suppose.

What’s a phobia?
An irrational fear.
Like fear of strong women
Who can look after themselves.

Say what?
Man, that’s a myth!
From a past
That never existed.
Wanna try a stony glare?

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

A FRAGRANT MELODY
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Morning sings a fragrant tune
of flowers wafting their perfume,

hummed in three-part
by the bees and butterflies.

No training of the voice required.
Enchantment sings on feathered wings.

The chorus leaves its dew-wet stage
when sweltering heat of mid-day

brings an intermission
until sunset cools the air.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

MAGIC
—Sayani Mukherjee, 

Chandannagar, W. Bengal, India

The dried parchment of fallen roses
Basking too brightly like a simmering darkness
I come upon the edges
The words take too long a time, dear friend
A cavernous niche budding at the plants
The roses were for autumn
A spring glance of glamour magic
A rundown airway of steel-blue cloth
Hanging around with a prosperous face
The dimming sunlight at the corners
Nature's own mystical gallery
Pouring forth in autumnal haze, a hoax of
paradox
Till I learned the failure of the gravity
Too nuisanced at folded guttering. 

 

 

 

 Clovelly, England
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

ENCHANTMENT
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Prerogative of Minecraft games,
bewitching fantasies for teens,
but charm’s not just for magic spells,
when fairy tales come into play.
A landscape, portrait of a child,
some theme that stirs the beguiled heart,
evokes such comments as a dream,
enraptured by the scenery.

Entrance has emphasis as leaves,
an exit from the everyday,
enthralled in service, stupor’s way,
enchantment as captivity.
‘Enchanté’ as French courtesy,
but conversation rarity;
how pleasing when comes naturally
as eyes drink in delectable.

Clovelly, where the cobbles climb,
Polperro, Cornish fishing smacks,
St Michael’s Mount by causeway linked.
enchanting all, in Celtic clay.
Reminder, commerce, kaolin,
or china clay in chalky heaps,
with fishing, mining, tourist trade—
for living in a trance unpaid.

 

 

 

 Cambridge Knight
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

THE COURTS BELOW
—Stephen Kingsnorth

I knew those years walked history,
Christ’s Pieces up to Jesus Lane,
Divinity, named School each day
where King’s mace stood as chair leg then,
rag student prank of yesteryear.

But farther back, and from The Backs,
pre-Elizabethan Queens’,
for founded by two rival queens—
with bishops, knights and castle keeps—
redbrick, Mathematical Bridge.

 

 

 

 Cambridge
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

Not long before King’s rose, due course,
with vaulted ceiling, choir’s repose,
and Senate, by degrees, with gowns,
with college names, most mispronounced
or shortened, Emma, Kat’s, Fitz, Caius.

I punt beneath the Bridge of Sighs,
nostalgic tears, those sites denied,
when I left city after five;
all Cam and Cantab., Master’s Art,
matriculation for a start.

 

 

 

 Cambridge Bridge of Sighs
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth

COMMINGLING
—Stephen Kingsnorth

I stir some milk into guest’s tea
quite unaware, commingling served,
admixture of two fluids poured
has found, with logic, term deserved.

Now commingling has ancient sound—
needs hyphen-help, when first observed—
block cul-de-sac of Nordic line,
dash mispronunciation, word.

So stay that Middle English hint—
to Gawain lore and saga swerved—
take counter-cultural as stance,
or lemon slice, custom preserved.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

A TALE OF 2 PICTURES
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

some people, whose mind is the
camera, snap a mental image of
what is happening around them
and from that day on can describe
in excruciating detail all the various
renderings that came into play

then there is me, the fellow who is
still looking for that elusive roll of
undeveloped black & white film
which is safely buried in one of my
everything drawers, so I can at
some point print out the photos of
that great scene I had the foresight
to capture on film 

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo 

Courtesy of Joe Nolan

THE GREAT MERGER
—Caschwa

Was teaching a 7th grade class
Reading and Language Arts
the bell rang signifying the end
of recess and resumption of classes

some of my students saw themselves
as Olympic athletes, competing to the
max, coming to my class, the finish
line, with sweaty faces, shortness of
breath, bittersweet memories of wins
and losses on the playground

one or more would hold up their pencil
like it was the Olympic Torch, the flame
must go on, it must be passed

one by one, they took their seats and
adjusted their Beetlejuice necks to scan
360 degrees around them just to make sure
I don’t know of what, but just to make sure

after a calm moment to catch their breath,
we delved into the lessons of the day,
bending their fragile minds as far as one
could imagine to concentrate on the reading
but no, this did not play well for some, who
were still busy competing on the playground
giving it the last full measure of their devotion
(which was the theme of another lesson they
hadn’t yet been presented) until the bell would
ring again, sending them off to another class

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

THE KITTEN RAN AWAY
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

It was one-o’clock
It was two-o’clock
The clock rang twice,
So the kitten ran away.

Everything was
A slant adventure,
Where monks
Knelt down to pray

On their knees
On hallowed ground,
While cleaning-ladies
Swept with brooms
Walkways
Walked by kings

And through the
Curtained-hallways
We saw the
New emerge.

 

 

 

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

DESTRUCTUS INTERRUPTUS
—Joe Nolan

Someone was talking
But I didn’t listen
To the tales they told
To sell their product,

Like war on
The installment plan
That lasts for twenty years
Before your sudden withdrawal—
“Destructus interruptus.”

Leave all your
Weapons behind
To fall into the hands
Of your enemies.

Maybe they will sell
Them off
To others of your enemies
Or drug cartels?

Wish them all well
As you pull out,
Spurting all your dignity.

You’d think you’d call
A better ending
After all your spending
In the mountains
Of Afghanistan.

 

 

 

 Ravens Get Lonely, Too
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

HOW DIAMONDS END
—Joe Nolan

This is how
Diamonds
Dissolve themselves
Into sand:

By a vain command,
Refused.
By feeling like
Being used.

By polite
Withdrawal.

By years of
Devotion and affection
Subjected to
Hyperinflation,
Where even the paper
Won’t merit the ink.

It’s not what
You might think.

Lots of things
Just have
A useful life.

Sometimes, it’s just
Gravitational fields:
When one planet
Draws near,
An elder orbit
Must disappear.
There’s only
So much
Force-field
To go around.

So, an ancient satellite
Might go aground
In another galaxy
Silently, without sound,
Saying, “ It’s perfectly O.K.”

—Public Domain Photo 

Courtesy of Joe Nolan

SHADOWS IN MOONLIGHT
—Joe Nolan

Shadows in
Moonlight
To each other
Wished, “Good-night.”

“You know I love you, darling.
Tonight we shall be near.
But when morning
Has arrived,
We shall disappear.”

____________________

Today’s LittleNip(s):

MEANDERING
—Caschwa

rivers of Truth
empty into oceans
of lies, along with
sparkling rays of
roadkill, and all that
urine left behind tall
shrubs and rocks to
use its own gravity
for blazing new trails

* * *

HAIKU TRIBUTE TO THE G.O.A.T. *
—Caschwa

she has more talent
in one little finger than
me in both big toes


(*Olympian Simone Biles, nicknamed
the “Greatest of All Time”)

___________________

Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) has been going through old SOW’s, using them for inspiration. His poems today were inspired by “Cleaning My Closet” and “One Day At School”. Need ideas these hot days when you’re stuck inside? See Calliope’s Closet for a multitude of prompts at http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/calliopes-closet.html/. And be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.

Our latest SOW was “Enchantment”, and Stephen Kingsnorth has written about the enchantment that is the amazing village of Clovelly (https://www.clovelly.co.uk/), and the noble city of Cambridge with all its history and stories. Victor Kennedy was inspired to write about Medusa (who is, of course, enchanting) when he saw the tattoos on a young woman in the town of Maribor, Slovenia, where he is currently living. Victor, a Canadian from Scotland who is now living in Slovenia, first visited the Kitchen in September of last year.

It is such a joy to hear from poets all around the world. Today’s post has our gentleman from London and Cambridge who now lives in Wales (Stephen Kingsnorth); Sayani Muhkerjee who lives in India; Victor Kennedy, the Canadian from Scotland who is now in Slovenia; and of course all our beloved Yanks. World traveler-poets, all… Anyway, thanks to our contributors, near and far, for playing along with The Girl With The Gnarly Hair and her bustling Kitchen.

I’ve posted C.S. Lewis’s advice to a young poet on my “Traps We All Fall Into” link at http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/poetry-traps-we-all-fall-into.html/—a few tips which I find helpful. (You may have to click on it to enlarge it.) Lewis’s first one is “Turn off the Radio”. Of course, nowadays, that would mean any and all electronics. Wise words, indeed.

___________________

—Medusa (a girl who can look after herself—or thinks she can, at least…)

 

 

 

 Sunday Diving in Slovenia

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Poetry in Motion read-around
will meet in Placerville
this morning, 10:30am; and
Sacramento Poetry Center features
Carol Lynn Stephenson Grellas
in Sacramentotonight, 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.

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!

 

Cranky Monday Sea-snake