There are all kinds of fences~
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
* * *
—Poetry by Claire J. Baker, Nolcha Fox,
Stephen Kingsnorth, Sayani Muukherjee,
Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Photos by Caschwa
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
* * *
—Poetry by Claire J. Baker, Nolcha Fox,
Stephen Kingsnorth, Sayani Muukherjee,
Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Photos by Caschwa
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan
TWO OLDIES LOOKING WAY BACK
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
1.
My sister and I were divided by a cyclone
fence—she a ballerina costume maker,
I, a baseball & tennis fanatic.
But sometimes we’d gaze through
the wired windows to check
on each other’s teenage crazes.
2.
I became a victim of our stepfather’s
molestations . . .Sister emailed me today
that if he had ever touched her, she would
have murdered him, adding, she realizes
killing is not in her wires, her nature,
nothing she now lets through her windows.
3.
At last we are communicating
with depth and candor. Facts HURT,
but we rise tall out of a rocky upbringing.
Now there is no
cyclone
fence.
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
1.
My sister and I were divided by a cyclone
fence—she a ballerina costume maker,
I, a baseball & tennis fanatic.
But sometimes we’d gaze through
the wired windows to check
on each other’s teenage crazes.
2.
I became a victim of our stepfather’s
molestations . . .Sister emailed me today
that if he had ever touched her, she would
have murdered him, adding, she realizes
killing is not in her wires, her nature,
nothing she now lets through her windows.
3.
At last we are communicating
with depth and candor. Facts HURT,
but we rise tall out of a rocky upbringing.
Now there is no
cyclone
fence.
—Photo by Caschwa
HAD TO
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
I had to leave a love that I wanted,
but he didn’t offer his heart.
He kept it fenced in,
a wild horse shackled
because he had dreams
of a life that his parents
assured him would bring
him success.
Many years later,
he found me to tell me
he wanted to marry me once.
But I left no trace of my
footsteps to elsewhere.
He married somebody else.
I hear that he’s found
the success that he wanted.
I wish his family
great joy.
I wish him the best,
as I pocket regret,
and I walk on
a path of my own.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
FENCING
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Offence is caused, unrealised,
a slight, upsetting of the form,
resentment growing, as ignored,
that first, but unknown, hurt involved.
Time takes its toll as unresolved
with failure to apologise,
the neighbour’s callous attitude,
here evidenced, normality.
It was a shared and open plot,
both fruit and flower held, common bond,
but sunken post was first revolt,
then rising fence with strong steel bolts.
First misdemeanour still untold,
returning from a holiday,
a hatchet had replaced the spade,
the fencing expert had drawn swords.
Defence against night burglars, thieves,
but means to sell stole silverware,
protection, the safari park,
or picket line, beyond the pale;
for most it stands, dividing line,
betwixt, a front, between affront,
for demarcation of a war
whose battleground, suburban lawns.
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
SEASON
—Sayani Mukherjee, Chandannagar,
W. Bengal, India
The rain has brought all seasons
Spring to summer and winter all
Its thrones
It's the mahogany of poplar trees
The bright sun-bathed tulips
I am in search for
The little girl plays its gypsy morning tone
The song of careful playfulness
I am in the search for seasons
Where rain has hidden all its flowers
The pansies and blueberry toppings
Where summer has played its part
Of meandering love for happiness
And winter has killed its lonely maiden
But spring will come heralding
The rains and poplars and the bright sun rays.
—Photo by Caschwa
THE ENCOUNTER
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
I don’t do public speaking, but I have been
successful creating good responses
You see, I have an honorary doctorate degree
in the specialty of advanced amnesia, with a
minor in dementia, so my standard answer
to any question under the sun is “I don’t recall.”
Take music history, for example. At one time I
knew all there was to know about historic
musical events, including all the details. But after
a few hundred years rolled by and I was finally
born, those memories faded from my brain, never
to be heard from again. So when someone poses
a quiz asking what music school a famous composer
from centuries back used to attend, you guessed it,
“I don’t recall.”
There are bits and pieces, before and after, that pass
for memory still left in my brain. Before the tragic
motorcycle crash that left me in a coma for 10 days,
and after that the retrospective amnesia that forever-
after sneaks itself in like those terrible pop-up ads.
Five years ago, “I don’t recall”
Ten years ago, car totaled
Fifteen years ago, Furlough Fridays.
Twenty years ago, Wife and I appeared on KCRA
Experience at Arden Fair Mall,
Sat on “cat” chair,
behind announcer
Five minutes ago, “I don’t recall”
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
LOCOMOTIVE IN FOG
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
(After a recent MK Ekphrastic Challenge)
This engine
Is all that makes its train
Roll along steel rails
Through damp, gray fog
To its destination,
All across the land
‘Til kingdom come.
We hear its whistle
Pierce the dark,
Its light
Shines through the mist.
Its rumble
Can be heard for miles.
Its power,
Not denied.
—Photo by Caschwa
EAT DIRT AND DIE
—Joe Nolan
I will eat dirt
Even though I die.
I’ll take whatever
You serve me—
Even McDonald’s
French fries,
Even though
Their soul
Is not
Potato
And eighty percent
Is a secret concoction
Of every aspect of poison
Commercial America
Slides down your throat,
Calling to mind
“The Sword-Swallower,”
In Dylan’s “Mr. Jones,”
Who says,
“Here is your throat back.
Thanks for the loan!”
I’ll take
Whatever you serve me,
Since you have your reasons
And not complain.
Seasons evaporate
And sweet years disappear,
Leaving us later,
In pain,
But it’s better
That we don’t argue
About whose chore
It is to abhor
The genocide
That goes on around us,
Where the Black-Lady
President of Harvard
Was forced to withdraw,
For not condemning
Protests against genocide
By Israel
Against Gazans.
—Photo by Caschwa
I SHALL BE REPLACED
—Joe Nolan
They put an
A.I. robot
In charge of our reception desk.
Tin cans keep rolling in
Through doors left slightly ajar.
Dylan’s song plays on the office hi-fi:
“... Ev’ry distance is not near ...”
The robot doesn’t seem to notice
The irony of metallic intrusion
In the form of wandering cans
That clutter up the waiting room
While a robot is in charge.
My actual human clients
Try to suppress their remarks
Since they don’t want to
Be too snarky
In front of a robot beast.
She answers phones
Just like a machine
And doesn’t claim workman’s comp.
Someday soon,
I, too,
Shall be replaced,
When robots are given
Executive function,
Which is not at all the same
As Dylan’s lyric,
“I shall be released.”
Not at all the same.
—Photo by Caschwa
LIBERATION AS A BANAL TREAT
—Joe Nolan
Oh my, oh my, oh my!
Everything, bent,
Is made to cry.
Buzzards,
In their
Circles,
Flying by.
I
And
Also,
You and I,
Hope for liberation
Before we die.
You and I,
As though liberation
Were just
Another
Sweet cream pie,
We sit
To eat,
Out along a curb
Along a street,
With taxis
Passing by.
—Photo by Caschwa
NOT ON THE LIST
—Joe Nolan
Doesn’t have to
Doesn’t want to
Won’t do it
Won’t get done
Won’t make a list and
Check it twice
Not because
They’re naughty
Or even not nice.
Just because
Don’t want to.
What not want to
Won’t get done
Even though it’s easy.
The list was made
And you weren’t on it.
You have nothing to say.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
—Gilbert K. Chesterton
__________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors; some of them worked with our Seed of the Week, Fences. Joe Nolan found us fine photos, as usual, and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) sent photos of his own having to do with the theme of celebration (in honor of Medusa's 20th anniversary last week). Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week, and Fridays for poetry-form and Ekphrastic challenges.
June is here already! Take note that the deadline for Swan Scythe Press’s annual chapbook contest is June 15! Info: www.swanscythepress.com/.
And the June issue of Sacramento Poetry Center’s Poet News is out; see https://www.sacpoetrycenter.org/poetnews/. Editor Pat Grizzell is a trouper!
__________________
—Medusa
—Visual Courtesy of Joe Nolan
A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
presents Rosa Lane and
Joanna Eleftheriou
tonight, 7:30pm.
For info about this 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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
Sacramento Poetry Center
presents Rosa Lane and
Joanna Eleftheriou
tonight, 7:30pm.
For info about this 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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
