—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
* * *
—Poetry by Stephen Kingsnorth, Nolcha Fox,
Caschwa, Michelle Kunert, Joe Nolan, and
Sayanı Mukherjee
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan and Medusa
* * *
—Poetry by Stephen Kingsnorth, Nolcha Fox,
Caschwa, Michelle Kunert, Joe Nolan, and
Sayanı Mukherjee
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan and Medusa
HMMM…
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
The air is humming, flighty thrill
of stimulating pheromones,
aroused through frills and ornament,
apparel dressed, both to enflame,
discreet though, as appeal addressed—
for too shrill, unattractive trait?
The mohawk head tuft, stunning red,
or white rump patch, green-crested bird
are standout features, subtle waived,
a signal to the would-be mate—
potential, here lies benefit
in quiver, suspense, flapper dare.
Flirtatious, now hear whistle-stop,
across full range of species’ spread,
is telling how these pairings work;
escapee spiders, cannibals,
is not the norm for every male.
No wonder, suspense by the flower.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
The air is humming, flighty thrill
of stimulating pheromones,
aroused through frills and ornament,
apparel dressed, both to enflame,
discreet though, as appeal addressed—
for too shrill, unattractive trait?
The mohawk head tuft, stunning red,
or white rump patch, green-crested bird
are standout features, subtle waived,
a signal to the would-be mate—
potential, here lies benefit
in quiver, suspense, flapper dare.
Flirtatious, now hear whistle-stop,
across full range of species’ spread,
is telling how these pairings work;
escapee spiders, cannibals,
is not the norm for every male.
No wonder, suspense by the flower.
—Public Domain Movie-Still Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
TO A BLACK WIDOW, FROM
A WILLING VICTIM
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
I’d risk my life to love you openly.
I’d give you all I have.
Anyone who comes to you
is never seen again.
I’d give you all I have
to hold you in my arms.
Let’s run away, never to be seen again.
I know it’s worth the risk.
To hold you in my arms is my reward.
Anyone you’ve loved cannot compare.
I know it’s worth the fear to flee.
I’d risk my life to love you openly.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
IT DON’T HURT TO FLIRT
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
she walks along runways
slides down greased poles
is oblivious to holy days
with their singular roles
slip her some money
she’ll show you some skin
call you sweetie and honey
again and again
her earnings will enlarge
while a man’s hormones expand
she might be called Sarge
in an all-girl’s band
Dominatrix in the French
if that’s your sort of thing
sitting naked on a bench
no conclusion will it bring
Little Amanita, Full of Poison...
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
COMMITMENT
—Caschwa
Tinker, tinker, little bell
had her out once on a date
she didn’t know me very well
my goal was fun, not full-time mate
she wanted me to sign my name
on some agreement based in law
I didn’t want to play that game
so that’s the last of her I saw
maybe I have an allergy
to all that faerie dust and stuff
don’t expect an apology
just keep your diamond in the rough
—Public Domain Graphic Courtesy of Medusa
CARNIVAL TRICKS
—Caschwa
(in response to a past MK Seed of the Week,
Consulting the Oracle)
in one hand I hold the Rod of Asclepius
and in the other the Rod of Caduceus
around me are the town’s elders, the
wise man from the top of the mountain,
and a host of social media fact-checkers
all know or pretend to know the unique
properties of each of these rods, but NO
ONE will speak up and tell me which is
which, so the best I can do is
pretend
Attention everyone, people of sound minds
and the village idiots, too, I hold in my
bare hands the answers to all the mysteries
of the Universe! In these two rods are all
the electrolytes of a well-rounded diet, and
all the phases of the moon, including Gibbous
whether they taught you that in school or not
bring your eyes closer but leave your hands
in your pockets, please aim for the clean
ones, we don’t want to be sharing diseases
now clear me a path so I can ascend the
stairway to the heavens and reactivate these
rods so we can use them to their full potential
Thank you, when I return I expect to see each
of you with your eyes glued to a smart phone,
you can believe half of what it tells you, but I
will not disclose which half that is
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
OUT OF MODE
—Caschwa
(in response to a previous MK
Seed of the Week, The Art of Losing)
I don’t tune in to sporting events
to hear the broadcasters in the
booth try to one-up each other on
funny sayings or jokes
if I wanted to hear a laugh track
I’d set the dial to watch I Love
Lucy reruns
nor will I tolerate announcers who
relentlessly throw jokes on the wall
until one appears to stick, maybe
athletic competition guarantees one
loser, so don’t try to camouflage bad
humor as the spoils of victory
get back to announcing play by
play, and who did what to whom
on the field of play, tell us the score,
the time left on the clock, and save
the funny stuff for your grandchildren
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
HEARSAY HISTORY
—Caschwa
—Caschwa
All this stuff we are just supposed to know…
Who discovered the New World?
I didn’t witness it. Might have been Columbus,
might have been the Vikings, might have been
some little green men in a flying saucer.
Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?
I didn’t witness it. Might have been President
Grant, might have been Grant’s stunt double,
might have been some ranch animal.
Who signed the Declaration of Independence?
I didn’t witness it. Might have been its authors,
might have been some interns, might have been
retroactive artificial intelligence.
Who was the Brooklyn Dodgers’ MVP?
I didn’t witness it. Might have been a Hollywood
screen actor, might have been Yogi Berra, might
have been some fellow who bought a free round
for everyone at the bar.
Why do we even bother to shorten the 4-letter word
OPUS with the 3-digit abbreviation OP.?
I can only guess. Might be to leave one more free
letter for symphony, conductor, or orchestra, might
be to suggest that it can also stand for the longer
word
Opioids, might be because someone is pulling
our leg.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
CHRYSANTHEMUMS FOR PALESTINIANS
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA
If Israel is represented by the Rose of Sharon
Perhaps the Palestinians’ flowers are
chrysanthemums
Chrysanthemums traditionally among the
flowers of the Autumn season
often used for decoration of funeral memorials
and gravesites—
a flower symbolizing grief and loss like no other
its petals as if layers of tears—
Meanwhile The Rose of Sharon knows it's
guilty for the massive loss of “innocents’”
lives—justified to supposedly get one Hamas
terrorist killing by bombings so many Palestin-
ians who didn’t attack Israelis,
A nation of Holocaust survivors who declared
“Never again” decided to commit
genocide upon their Arab neighbors
There need to be wreaths of chrysanthemums
everywhere for protests aimed at Israel, saying
"Arab lives matter”
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
This is the 21st not the 19th century
yet Old Sacramento district insists on presenting
horse carriage rides—
Claiming it's part of the “creating gold-rush era
ambience for tourism
even though there is also car traffic coming through
Old Sacramento horse carriage routes converge
right near a freeway exit
and undoubtedly there’ve been collisions between
the two
In the Summertime the horses are expected to work
for hours in the heat
No ports for water for horses in temperatures that
can reach over 100 degrees
Horses probably have passed out without it being
reported
Protests in favor of these horses’ proper care
continue—
animal rights activists decry that horses are feeling,
sentient beings, not machinery
yet these cries probably go unheeded for the sake
of money
—Michele Kunert
Horse of a Different Color
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
When I was a girl I had a church pastor who also
boarded horses
My parents took me to ride horses on Pastor Bob
Raup’s ranch
One time he gave me an Appaloosa-mix mare
named “Crowheart”
When I mounted onto the saddle, Crowheart slowly
plodded along
she didn’t seem to want to follow out to the field
with the group Pastor Bob lead
Pastor Bob heard my complaints
He turned around his horse to meet me and said
“Go on, kick her in the ribs!”
I didn’t do as Pastor Bob said, but merely gave
Crowheart a nudge with my feet
but then Pastor Bob came alongside my and Crow-
heart's right side and kicked her himself
Crowheart then let out a distressed whine and bolted
in obvious displeasure
Good thing I had gripped Crowheart’s neck enough
that she didn’t “throw” me and I stayed on
Ironically Pastor Bob, once being a “humane officer”,
never kicked his rescue dogs
I have no clue to this day what Pastor Bob was
thinking
but since then I always figure a horse ought to be
treated with respect and live free of assault—
So many horses are expected to “perform” or work
for human pleasure
But humans never get domesticated horses'
consent to ride on their backs
—Michele Kunert
consent to ride on their backs
—Michele Kunert
—Public Domain Graphic Courtesy of Medusa
THE RAMPAGE OF THE GOLEM
—Joe Nolan
Hurry, hurry,
Don’t be late
To be behind
The hands of fate
Is to tremulate.
The stress you feel,
Pernicious, real,
Is trouble
At the gate.
Omens and premonitions—
Who was that handsome demon
Who showed his face in your dream
And touched your calf to make it cramp
Just to show you he could?
Beyond the field,
Across the glen,
Something happened,
Way-back when,
Is coming this way,
Again.
The lumber of the
Pounding legs
Of the Golem—
The beast they made
To conquer Jerusalem,
Is crushing every other nation
In the Middle-East
As it sets its hungry fangs
To devour
Every other living
Human being in sight,
Cannibalistic, genocidal,
Racist and psychotic,
It only cares for the
Purposes of its masters.
—Public Domain Graphic Courtesy of Medusa
IS PAUL DEAD?
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
(inspired by the rumor that
Paul McCartney died in the ’60s)
Brilliant lyrics
In steady cadence
Beat out on
A set of drums,
Guitars humming,
Bass and strings,
Welcoming the music,
Whatever both
Might bring.
Ringo
Meets George,
Meets Paul,
Meets John,
Meet screaming
Crowds of teens
Hysterical
In adoration.
Music was hard to hear,
At Shea Stadium
In 1966
Before Paul had died,
After which,
They went-off touring,
For the next four years,
Until they all withdrew
From the Beatles.
"Paul" went out
On his own
But never made another
Item of beauty
Like, “Yesterday.”
—Public Domain Graphic Courtesy of Medusa
NO “FRISCO”
—Joe Nolan
Never say, “Frisco.”
Never say, “San Frisco.”
Never say, “Frisco-san” to
Your Japanese shiba-inu.
Never think in terms of “Frisco.”
Forget about all things, “Frisco.”
There’s no such place
As “Frisco.”
“Frisco” does not exist.
Just shut up about “Frisco.”
Nobody wants to hear it.
It’ll make people think
You’re from Cleveland.
—Public Domain Graphic Courtesy of Joe Nolan
HUNGER
—Joe Nolan
Our need
For each other
Begins with hunger—
A baby cries
In the night
To call for
Another feeding.
Later,
Other hungers
Will arise—
Sparks
In each others’ eyes
Setting little fires
Babies crying
In the night
As life aspires
To continue
From body to body
And life to life.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
STAYING CONNECTED
—Joe Nolan
In our
Disappearing daydream
Of the soul
We reach out
With a mooring line
To try to seem we’re whole,
Lest we
Just drift away
Into internal exile
Where waves
Or current
Have their way,
Leaving us
Stranded, someday,
On a beach or bar
With no one
There to play.
Like trees,
We root
Into the Earth,
Join social clubs
Pay our annual dues
Join political parties
Root for sports teams
Produce children
In a long, hard slog
To be connected,
Lest we drift away,
Where waves
Or current
Have their way,
Leaving us
Stranded, someday,
On a beach or bar
With no one
There to play.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
JOY
—Sayani Mukherjee, Chandannagar,
W. Bengal, India
God's bemoaning world will end
The sudden path of ups and downs
The silvery mist of downtown lake
A pleasant surprise of forsaken country
A numbness of watery filling
Paths of downtrodden decay
A rainbow will end before the sunrise
Of lungs and tissues of sinewy wild
A melancholic rain will come
A surmise of two-pence jugglery
Nature's secrecy of forever past
Please offer an edifice of joy.
_____________________
Our Seed of the Week was Coquette, in all its meanings: flirt, or hummingbird, or chrysanthemums... Thanks to our contributors, spectacular as always, who wrote on that theme and others, and to Joe Nolan for these phine photos he phound. Be sure to check each Tuesday for our Seed of the Week.
Welcome back to Michelle Kunert, who says she is a 52-year-old “genXer”, a CSUS graduate in English studies who’s looking for new job opportunities since being laid off from Pride Industries. Michelle is a SnakePal who has been in absentia for a couple of years, and it’s good to see MK back in MK.
_____________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Medusa
A reminder that
Poetry in Motion meets
in Placerville today, 10:30am;
and Sac. Poetry Center features
Patricia Wentzel & Julia Levine
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.
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
in Placerville today, 10:30am;
and Sac. Poetry Center features
Patricia Wentzel & Julia Levine
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.
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!
