.JPG)
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Original Artwork by Joyce Odam
DREAM-THIEF
—Joyce Odam
I am the one here made of the surreality
of dreams. You want me to save you.
You bring me your desires,
your wishes, your pretty flatteries.
Please, you say, do this for me.
And I think about it.
I move in my dream-state
toward you.
I dream-move over the scenery
which is strange to both of us.
I pass through you,
and you do not feel me.
I touch you and speak to you,
but you do not see me.
I would do as you want, but I am
being changed—
I am being held
by the forces of myself.
—Joyce Odam
I am the one here made of the surreality
of dreams. You want me to save you.
You bring me your desires,
your wishes, your pretty flatteries.
Please, you say, do this for me.
And I think about it.
I move in my dream-state
toward you.
I dream-move over the scenery
which is strange to both of us.
I pass through you,
and you do not feel me.
I touch you and speak to you,
but you do not see me.
I would do as you want, but I am
being changed—
I am being held
by the forces of myself.
.JPG)
Leona
INSOMNIA XIV
—Robin Gale Odam
The night summons me in the
amity of darkness—I breathe a
question into this peregrine
complexity of time: “What is it
like when I cross your mind?”
deep is collective
whenever I look for you
one more memory
(prev. pub. in Brevities, January 2017; and
Medusa’s Kitchen, 10/31/23)
.JPG)
Lynne
EXISTENTIAL
—Robin Gale Odam
Ok we will go to the gallery.
Something from the heart of an artist
will linger in his works, stare out at me
from the wall, choke at my heart
and steal my eyes away from you.
Then you will want me back.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2/28/23)
.JPG)
Eleanor
THE EYE THAT BETRAYS THE VISION (I)
—Joyce Odam
After Girl with a Pomegranate, detail, 1875
by Wm. Adolphe Bougereau
Her eye, her earring, the silken drape of her scarf,
her blue dress buttoned at the shoulder...
her unbidden blush of skin.
Her eye is following your perusal—
does not blink—does not tear,
her eye is a judgment and a question.
She peers through the corner of the curtain.
Her earring brushes her scarf and makes
a small tinkle of movement.
She is the epithet of Beauty,
with no other reason but this—no other
purpose but this. Her artist loves her.
Her eye is both haughty and pleading—
never to be worthy for anything
beyond this. Dare she grow old...?
Dare she love another...?
Dare she lose the intensity of her look...?
Her eye darkens at the conjecture.
Her eye possesses your eye—accepts the
vanity that is given her—forbids your look—
does not question past your curiosity.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 12/5/17; 1/2/24)
.JPG)
Blu
THE EYE THAT BETRAYS THE VISION (II)
—Joyce Odam
After Girl with a Pomegranate, detail, 1875
by Wm. Adolphe Bougereau
That which you wear
is an apology for what is not perfect.
The eye is a sore judge of beauty.
Come forth through the shadows
that swarm for you. They will let you be,
and you will be beautiful.
What touches you now and makes you cry?
It is the spy for mother.
You are not who you thought you were.
Reach into the reaching place.
How deep it is.
What is there that you want, or need?
You had an image in mind—
it held more for your touch.
The touch is too tender to bear.
Last night in your dream you wrote a saga.
It was only one paragraph long—a very long
paragraph with no punctuation.
You were out of breath,
and when you woke up
hard to read pages fluttered all over the place.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 1/2/24)
.JPG)
Patrice
PATRICIAN
—Joyce Odam
After An October Evening by Sir John Lavery
An autumn evening with light still waning,
surrounding her shadow, the dark chair
disappearing, the window burnished red,
dull gold mixed in—her thoughts
dormant—her face blurred
through a mirror
that is far away—
that will not answer her stare.
Who is she—
if not Her Self—
any one,
and any where.
She who was the most beautiful
to her beholder,
now exists in likenesses by his eye and brush,
his shortened memory:
his nonexistent, perfect female
after the art of all the others.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 10/27/15)
.jpg)
Josephine
LOVE
—Robin Gale Odam
he was fathomless—
i fell in love because of his
insanity, it was the same as my
father’s and maybe mine
he was fathomless—
i fell in love because of his
insanity, it was the same as my
father’s and maybe mine
.jpg)
Marcella
HER MARCELLED HAIR
—Joyce Odam
She may have been twenty-eight.
About 1932. Perhaps Seattle.
Coming home from school
I found her
sitting on the couch
knees crossed
mid-day
dressed up in her new dress
of crepe de Chine
shiny as night’s
soft amber lights
of places she had been…
she smiled at me
with a smile that was her own
to make a declaration of herself
sitting there, posed,
like a glamour girl…
a movie star…
a model…
her hair just done,
marcelled,
those rhythmic waves
tight-pressed to her small head
which she held
mirror-proud
and I
in awe of her…
my mother…
beautiful.
She may have been twenty-eight.
About 1932. Perhaps Seattle.
Coming home from school
I found her
sitting on the couch
knees crossed
mid-day
dressed up in her new dress
of crepe de Chine
shiny as night’s
soft amber lights
of places she had been…
she smiled at me
with a smile that was her own
to make a declaration of herself
sitting there, posed,
like a glamour girl…
a movie star…
a model…
her hair just done,
marcelled,
those rhythmic waves
tight-pressed to her small head
which she held
mirror-proud
and I
in awe of her…
my mother…
beautiful.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2/26/13)
.JPG)
Madeline
MYOPIA
—Joyce Odam
After Lady with Red Hair
by Georgia O’Keeffe, c. 1914-16
Her shedding fur blows soft against her face—her
old face powdered white. She’s all but faded now
although her famous red hair still attracts a glance.
She lives between the walls of now and then—still
haughty and aloof, the yellow snow of street lights
drifting down around her in a blurry dance—
her red hair stuck with snow-stars now. Her eyes
glaze through the churning light. She lets a clouded
memory slip through—a triumph or an old romance.
Her shedding fur blows soft against her face—her
old face powdered white. She’s all but faded now
although her famous red hair still attracts a glance.
She lives between the walls of now and then—still
haughty and aloof, the yellow snow of street lights
drifting down around her in a blurry dance—
her red hair stuck with snow-stars now. Her eyes
glaze through the churning light. She lets a clouded
memory slip through—a triumph or an old romance.
.JPG)
Delilah
SEA HAG
—Joyce Odam
She dances her bony siren-dance on the
shrouding shore as you in your shanty
stir your clam-bisque on your small
wood stove, she offers a gull-feather
in return for just one bowl, she offers
to dance all night for you—as memory
as mist—she laughs her awful laugh.
Snuff the candle. Lock the gate. Evoke
some half-forgotten rune that will send
her away—don’t risk your soul for hers,
she lives in the sea and cannot be
appeased. Resist! She cannot be saved.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 5/29/10;
6/16/20; 8/16/22)
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
PANG
—Robin Gale Odam
her scent,
the curve of thin light
on her pearls
(prev. pub. in Brevities, October 2016)
__________________
Coquettes Joyce and Robin Gale Odam have sent us some beautiful poetry today, along with Joyce’s artwork, and we thank them for all this good stuff! Our Seed of the Week was “Coquette”.
Our new Seed of the Week is “Embryo”. As always with prompts, explore the many meanings of a word to see where your muse wants to go; think metaphors as well as the literal. Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from. And see every Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry form challenges, including those of the Ekphrastic type.
__________________
—Medusa
P.S. Joyce and Robin have used women’s names for the pictures today; four of the names are people they know (two grandmothers, Pearl and Josephine, and two poets from the Hart Senior Center Wednesday writing group, Blu and Patrice). Here are the meanings of these names:
BLU: Calmness, serenity, and tranquility. Blue is symbolized as a color of trust, beauty, and wisdom.
DELILAH: Delicate
ELEANOR: Shining, radiant, bright one. God is my Light (torch or lamp). (Hebrew); “Ancient North” or “Noble North” (German); The other Aenor, or foreign Aenor (Latin)
JOSEPHINE: “God will increase” or “He shall increase.” (Hebrew); French and variants connection adds depth and richness to the name.
LEONA: Lioness
LYNNE: Idol (French); A cascade or waterfall (Anglo-Saxon); Waterfall or From the Lake (English)
MADELINE: Strength, elegance, sophistication
MARCELLA: Derived from Mars, the god of war; dedicated to Mars or “warlike”; Strength and martial qualities.
PATRICE: Dignity, refinement; noble
PEARL: Precious
BLU: Calmness, serenity, and tranquility. Blue is symbolized as a color of trust, beauty, and wisdom.
DELILAH: Delicate
ELEANOR: Shining, radiant, bright one. God is my Light (torch or lamp). (Hebrew); “Ancient North” or “Noble North” (German); The other Aenor, or foreign Aenor (Latin)
JOSEPHINE: “God will increase” or “He shall increase.” (Hebrew); French and variants connection adds depth and richness to the name.
LEONA: Lioness
LYNNE: Idol (French); A cascade or waterfall (Anglo-Saxon); Waterfall or From the Lake (English)
MADELINE: Strength, elegance, sophistication
MARCELLA: Derived from Mars, the god of war; dedicated to Mars or “warlike”; Strength and martial qualities.
PATRICE: Dignity, refinement; noble
PEARL: Precious
Girl with a Pomegranate, detail, 1875
by Wm. Adolphe Bougereau
by Wm. Adolphe Bougereau
A reminder that
Twin Lotus Thai features
The Sisters of the Pen tonight,
6pm—reservations strongly
recommended!
For info about this
(who ARE Sisters of the Pen?)
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!
Twin Lotus Thai features
The Sisters of the Pen tonight,
6pm—reservations strongly
recommended!
For info about this
(who ARE Sisters of the Pen?)
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!
