—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Nolcha Fox
POSTCARDS FROM SOMEWHERE
Every day, without delay, a stranger sends me
postcards from the oddest places. I can’t read the
messages, they’re in a language I don’t know.
Perhaps the stranger knows I’m lonely, and wants
to let me know he’s with me. I tried to send him
thank-you cookies, but they returned home
undelivered.
Perhaps we tread congruent
paths that lead
to alternate universes.
Every day, without delay, a stranger sends me
postcards from the oddest places. I can’t read the
messages, they’re in a language I don’t know.
Perhaps the stranger knows I’m lonely, and wants
to let me know he’s with me. I tried to send him
thank-you cookies, but they returned home
undelivered.
Perhaps we tread congruent
paths that lead
to alternate universes.
INTO THE POOL
Brilliant colors, invitation
to our yearly pool party,
carried by our winged friends
to the edge of summer.
I’ve food and drink
enough for all.
Dig in and enjoy.
All I ask is, be polite.
Our neighbors
may annoy us some,
but they are not the feast.
Take some cake,
don’t eat them up.
Do not be a savage.
If you’re hangry, wait until
the party has concluded.
Brilliant colors, invitation
to our yearly pool party,
carried by our winged friends
to the edge of summer.
I’ve food and drink
enough for all.
Dig in and enjoy.
All I ask is, be polite.
Our neighbors
may annoy us some,
but they are not the feast.
Take some cake,
don’t eat them up.
Do not be a savage.
If you’re hangry, wait until
the party has concluded.
CONES OF SUMMER
They march through summer’s heat each year,
traffic cones in party clothes with stripes
of red and white that reflect light and blind us,
decked with yellow ribbons for a bash we can’t
enjoy.
We must navigate and wait while temperatures
can fry our tires, roast our tempers,
leave us sweating in our cars.
Even though they’re in no hurry,
traffic cones know life is short.
Soon they’ll hide in sheds from winter storms
until warm weather brings them out
to aggravate us once again.
They march through summer’s heat each year,
traffic cones in party clothes with stripes
of red and white that reflect light and blind us,
decked with yellow ribbons for a bash we can’t
enjoy.
We must navigate and wait while temperatures
can fry our tires, roast our tempers,
leave us sweating in our cars.
Even though they’re in no hurry,
traffic cones know life is short.
Soon they’ll hide in sheds from winter storms
until warm weather brings them out
to aggravate us once again.
CLUMSY
He dropped his glasses at the beach.
The water grabbed them, took them out to sea.
He crashed into a semi, caused a multi-car collision.
Bottled water fried the wires in his car.
His family doesn’t see him, he’s a danger.
Stubbed toes, broken bones lie in his wake.
He now lives in the desert, life is perfect.
He’s the only cloud, no clumsiness required.
He dropped his glasses at the beach.
The water grabbed them, took them out to sea.
He crashed into a semi, caused a multi-car collision.
Bottled water fried the wires in his car.
His family doesn’t see him, he’s a danger.
Stubbed toes, broken bones lie in his wake.
He now lives in the desert, life is perfect.
He’s the only cloud, no clumsiness required.
MENACE IN THE BATHTUB
Soaking in the tub, my brother
leaked a screech that shook the walls.
We ran in, fearing bandersnatch or worse.
“Sharks!” he cried, and pointed down
to soapy water. “Sharks!”
Now, I just take showers
so that sharks can leak
into the drain.
Soaking in the tub, my brother
leaked a screech that shook the walls.
We ran in, fearing bandersnatch or worse.
“Sharks!” he cried, and pointed down
to soapy water. “Sharks!”
Now, I just take showers
so that sharks can leak
into the drain.
LIAR, LIAR
Last night my mirror
told me I was
really quite the babe.
My push-up bra
gave me a lift.
My hair was styled
and sprayed to kill.
My sequined dress
showed dangerous curves.
My face was
starlet gorgeous.
This morning I got
quite the shock
when my reflection
giggled.
My curves were flat.
My breasts had fled
to breakfast
on a bagel.
My hair was
roadkill, yuck.
I was a Plain Jane,
near invisible.
I cracked my image
with my shoe,
and now I’m so
much happier!
I can always
look superb
without a
lying mirror.
ON ICE
The woman sits on ice.
Her hair is a pull-chain
to open a frozen heart.
Are her eyes blue?
Or is it her face?
I will never know.
She will not turn
to face me.
I am dead to her.
She is simply dead.
The woman sits on ice.
Her hair is a pull-chain
to open a frozen heart.
Are her eyes blue?
Or is it her face?
I will never know.
She will not turn
to face me.
I am dead to her.
She is simply dead.
LOVE POEM IN A COFFEE CUP
You are why I get up mornings. You are why the sun
shines bright. You are why we take a work break.
Please don’t
fill yourself
with tea.
You are why I get up mornings. You are why the sun
shines bright. You are why we take a work break.
Please don’t
fill yourself
with tea.
MISSING SICK PERSON
First, I lost one favorite sock. Perhaps the dryer
ate it. Or maybe it was squished and had enough
of its cramped drawer. I checked in every space
I thought a sock might want to hide. I couldn’t
find it anywhere. It must have fled the house. I
filed a missing persons report. But policemen only
laughed.
Lady, we don’t have
sock hunt time.
Just buy another pair!
First, I lost one favorite sock. Perhaps the dryer
ate it. Or maybe it was squished and had enough
of its cramped drawer. I checked in every space
I thought a sock might want to hide. I couldn’t
find it anywhere. It must have fled the house. I
filed a missing persons report. But policemen only
laughed.
Lady, we don’t have
sock hunt time.
Just buy another pair!
Today’s LittleNip:
COSTLY Zzzzzzs
—Nolcha Fox
I’m wired to fire, I cannot sleep.
I put my dreams on layaway.
If I pay down every day,
I’ll pay more than dreams are worth,
but they are mine in 30 days.
If I don’t pay, my dreams will go
to someone who knows how to doze.
I must recall which dreams I chose,
so I can pay or walk away.
_______________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for today’s fine poetry, and for sending equally fine photos she has found to match!
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
A reminder that
Poetry Fights Back: The Reading
takes place on Zoom today, 2pm.
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!
Poetry Fights Back: The Reading
takes place on Zoom today, 2pm.
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!
