—Public Domain Photos
A MILLION MILES OF SNOW
1.
I envision that somewhere
extraordinary snowy terrains
exist forever, that if planes crash
into cliffsides or peaks, all on board
live and are led higher by a rare clan
of alpine survivors.
2.
And I envision ancient snows
are writing a book on rare sunsets,
shadows, ice caves they have known,
maybe hinting on the final page where
the hidden portal to Shangri-la
may be found.
3.
I wish that Himalayan snow
leopards lived on the dark side
of an unfound peak, were not hunted
to near extinction for their pelts, splendid
animals, highly endangered,
like our planet.
1.
I envision that somewhere
extraordinary snowy terrains
exist forever, that if planes crash
into cliffsides or peaks, all on board
live and are led higher by a rare clan
of alpine survivors.
2.
And I envision ancient snows
are writing a book on rare sunsets,
shadows, ice caves they have known,
maybe hinting on the final page where
the hidden portal to Shangri-la
may be found.
3.
I wish that Himalayan snow
leopards lived on the dark side
of an unfound peak, were not hunted
to near extinction for their pelts, splendid
animals, highly endangered,
like our planet.
A WILLOW BATH
We hear, yet cannot see,
splashes of songbirds
in the willow tree,
fronds blown briskly clean,
while windwaves wildly keen
around & back again,
frisking over & inbetween,
songbirds chorusing—
willow tree charmers unseen,
bathing in leafy green.
We hear, yet cannot see,
splashes of songbirds
in the willow tree,
fronds blown briskly clean,
while windwaves wildly keen
around & back again,
frisking over & inbetween,
songbirds chorusing—
willow tree charmers unseen,
bathing in leafy green.
FANTASY IN NEW GUINEA
When one is about to die,
three women of the mountains
strip your body with dignity.
They cover you chin to knees
with large butterflies.
Blinking satisfaction, you die
the splendid death of your dreams,
The women carry your weightless
body to the top of a waterfall.
Butterflies blossoming in a tall tree
watch over you as you slide down
liquid air, land perfectly laid out
in a rain forest clearing, where you
enter the far kingdom as a butterfly.
(Grand Prize and performance
with Dancing Poetry Festival, 2000)
When one is about to die,
three women of the mountains
strip your body with dignity.
They cover you chin to knees
with large butterflies.
Blinking satisfaction, you die
the splendid death of your dreams,
The women carry your weightless
body to the top of a waterfall.
Butterflies blossoming in a tall tree
watch over you as you slide down
liquid air, land perfectly laid out
in a rain forest clearing, where you
enter the far kingdom as a butterfly.
(Grand Prize and performance
with Dancing Poetry Festival, 2000)
A ROSE WROTE
THIS POEM
Inhaling
a
rose,
do you
sense
an early
time
when
a rose
inhaled
you?
BETHESDA FIREFLIES
In summer
after dinner
we kids
played Hide
& Seek
& Kick-the-Can
then sprawled
on a
neighbor’s
lawn
watching
fireflies
merge
with
stars.
(Variation first pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 3/17/21)
SPECTRUMS
I’ve looked for rainbows
in dewdrops on grass stems.
And I’ve been wowed.
When I squint at the sun,
pale pastels liven its curve.
I’ve seen spectrums, even in
moist spider webs anchored at
an ideal angle for light. As a child
I named these colors flat rainbows.
BOO on neighborhood gangs that
held a glass shard to the sun, aiming
it to set a paper scrap on fire.
After rain, I’d seen spectrums
on pavement near gutters, learned,
they’re car engine oils refracted.
As a lover of summer, drying my hair
in our Maryland backyard near
honeysuckle vines, a handful felt
silky like my dog’s paws. These
strands, and their refreshing tints,
uplifted me to start to seek loveliness
beyond family cruelties.
_________________________
Today’s LittleNip:
ALPINE MEADOW
Yosemite
Total darkness
slowly ignites
trillions
of silver wicks.
Looking up
from our meadow
and lulled by
Milky Way light,
we wonder,
are we
in heaven
or still on earth?
______________________
—Medusa, with our thanks to Claire Baker for today’s fine poetry! Claire had a birthday last week; like the lady I am, I won’t disclose her age, but let’s just say she’s seen a lotta presidents…. And happy birthday, Claire!—sending you virtual roses and a big piece of cake!
I’ve looked for rainbows
in dewdrops on grass stems.
And I’ve been wowed.
When I squint at the sun,
pale pastels liven its curve.
I’ve seen spectrums, even in
moist spider webs anchored at
an ideal angle for light. As a child
I named these colors flat rainbows.
BOO on neighborhood gangs that
held a glass shard to the sun, aiming
it to set a paper scrap on fire.
After rain, I’d seen spectrums
on pavement near gutters, learned,
they’re car engine oils refracted.
As a lover of summer, drying my hair
in our Maryland backyard near
honeysuckle vines, a handful felt
silky like my dog’s paws. These
strands, and their refreshing tints,
uplifted me to start to seek loveliness
beyond family cruelties.
_________________________
Today’s LittleNip:
ALPINE MEADOW
Yosemite
Total darkness
slowly ignites
trillions
of silver wicks.
Looking up
from our meadow
and lulled by
Milky Way light,
we wonder,
are we
in heaven
or still on earth?
______________________
—Medusa, with our thanks to Claire Baker for today’s fine poetry! Claire had a birthday last week; like the lady I am, I won’t disclose her age, but let’s just say she’s seen a lotta presidents…. And happy birthday, Claire!—sending you virtual roses and a big piece of cake!
A reminder that
Linda Toren and Gary Thomas
will read in Camino today, 2pm;
and LitFest 5 will take place
in Winters tonight, 7pm.
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.
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!
Linda Toren and Gary Thomas
will read in Camino today, 2pm;
and LitFest 5 will take place
in Winters tonight, 7pm.
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.
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!
