—Poetry By Claire J. Baker, Nolcha Fox,
Stephen Kingsnorth, Joe Nolan, and Caschwa
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Nolcha Fox and Medusa
Stephen Kingsnorth, Joe Nolan, and Caschwa
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Nolcha Fox and Medusa
FRUITED BOWL
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
My cornucopia overflows
with grapes that fall one by one.
So far that’s been the way it goes.
My cornucopia overflows
but still it keeps a luscious pose
that equals the feverish glow of sun.
My cornucopia overflows
with grapes I catch, one by one
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
My cornucopia overflows
with grapes that fall one by one.
So far that’s been the way it goes.
My cornucopia overflows
but still it keeps a luscious pose
that equals the feverish glow of sun.
My cornucopia overflows
with grapes I catch, one by one
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Nolcha Fox
RICHES OF EMBARRASSMENT
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
Why do you treat me as a child
and dress me up for photos?
I’m not photogenic and you
make me run for cover
to our neighbor’s house where
I am not their runway model.
AN EMBARRASSMENT OF RICHES?
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Evolved, yet not for human pride,
wellbeing, but, of all, the whole,
holistic earth, so bountiful—
though planet mostly marine soaked;
thus lies in what we misconceive,
embarrassment at what enjoy—
as focussed on our future wealth.
Dejection neighbours with despair.
Imagine summit, orders, world,
the peak, supposed, of mountain top
that fails, protect, from trench to range,
for net worth judged by what we catch.
It’s mine, to drill for liquid gold,
the alchemy of baby thoughts,
as globe is shafted, undermined,
and all seams well if fossilised.
The sunset blush still set in place,
for we that roll, move round in space.
What we perceive is but trompe l’oeil;
horizons serve our blinkered views.
Anthropomorphic is our rule,
the scale by which we measure all.
False prophet as the greenback falls,
but autumn when Greenman takes stock.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Evolved, yet not for human pride,
wellbeing, but, of all, the whole,
holistic earth, so bountiful—
though planet mostly marine soaked;
thus lies in what we misconceive,
embarrassment at what enjoy—
as focussed on our future wealth.
Dejection neighbours with despair.
Imagine summit, orders, world,
the peak, supposed, of mountain top
that fails, protect, from trench to range,
for net worth judged by what we catch.
It’s mine, to drill for liquid gold,
the alchemy of baby thoughts,
as globe is shafted, undermined,
and all seams well if fossilised.
The sunset blush still set in place,
for we that roll, move round in space.
What we perceive is but trompe l’oeil;
horizons serve our blinkered views.
Anthropomorphic is our rule,
the scale by which we measure all.
False prophet as the greenback falls,
but autumn when Greenman takes stock.
MY GOOD FRIEND
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
One of my classmates in the university music
program lived with his parents in a mansion
in Beverly Hills. It would seem that he could
have whatever money could buy, but he trended
toward more working class values. He, I, and
other classmates would visit the Hollywood
Bowl, no limo, regular seating, and following
the concert go Dutch to a moderately priced
coffee shop. This Beverly Hills friend had a
neighbor who also could have whatever he
wanted. When he wished to acquire a telescope,
he didn’t just buy the best they had, he got the
materials and ground his own lens to build the
device.
Sadly, one brush paints
a loathsome picture for all
and misses the good
BARREL BROWSING
—Caschwa
Finally reached the bottom of the barrel
and there sat one shaking grape
too frightened to answer questions
about how it got into that shape
Did it feel like the 13 Colonies
driven insane by a king?
men sent to die for our Independence
leaving us an Anthem to sing
And what about the Constitution,
conveniently Archived at birth?
its legal-based words did not replace swords
so no impact on Heaven or Earth
And here we are in modern times
with no funding to keep our government going
sitting at the bottom of the barrel, with one
shaking grape to help Betsy Ross with her sewing
—Caschwa
Finally reached the bottom of the barrel
and there sat one shaking grape
too frightened to answer questions
about how it got into that shape
Did it feel like the 13 Colonies
driven insane by a king?
men sent to die for our Independence
leaving us an Anthem to sing
And what about the Constitution,
conveniently Archived at birth?
its legal-based words did not replace swords
so no impact on Heaven or Earth
And here we are in modern times
with no funding to keep our government going
sitting at the bottom of the barrel, with one
shaking grape to help Betsy Ross with her sewing
DANCES AND ERRORS
—Caschwa
Come! let us gather in
circles of confusion
we’ll step on each other’s feet
apologize, then repeat
stay on the beat
unless that’s not your thing
we are mere mates in training
by chance entertaining
my mother paid good money
for me to have these lessons
gained from German Hessians
on how to “de-feet” other dancers
hold my hand and never let go
I didn’t say that, it just isn’t so
don’t look at me like I am an
empty beer can you trade for cash
dances and errors, coordinated bash
LISTENING TO COLORS AND LIGHT
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Do you listen
To the sky?
To fluffy, white, light clouds
Silently floating by?
To rainbows
That caress the light
Until it splits
Into flavored colors,
Not Black and White,
Only lovely colors
Assembled from
The light,
Only separate flavors
Of berries,
Grown ripe,
Overnight,
Upon their vines,
We run out in the
Morning to retrieve.
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Do you listen
To the sky?
To fluffy, white, light clouds
Silently floating by?
To rainbows
That caress the light
Until it splits
Into flavored colors,
Not Black and White,
Only lovely colors
Assembled from
The light,
Only separate flavors
Of berries,
Grown ripe,
Overnight,
Upon their vines,
We run out in the
Morning to retrieve.
TO LIVE AND DIE
—Joe Nolan
Oh, my!
Such a lovely thing
To live and die--
To be a human being
To live and die.
Some say
Without meaning,
To be a human being
And live and die.
So we cry,
From suffering
While living,
Only meant to die
Without meaning—
Living as absurd
No encouraging word,
Only the vacuum of space
Into which we trace
Annihilation
Of each and every
Loved one and friend.
Do we have souls
That go on?
How about our dogs
And cats?
It’s easier to imagine
Holographic continuation
Than annihilation.
WAITING FOR IMPACT AT
MARTHA’S VINEYARD
—Joe Nolan
Just like that,
It’s plain to see—
Out there
In our outer
Solar system
Objects heading
Toward you and me,
Heading for Martha’s Vineyard
Toward Obama’s mansion
With a scheduled
Time of arrival
No one will
Fail to notice.
Contemplate inevitability
As the Master’s Clock’s
Hands slowly swinging
Bringing a collision
Between inanimate objects
And you and me.
All so plain to see—
We can see it coming
From hundreds
Of millions of
Miles away—
Inevitability at play.
What is there to say?
The mansions, there,
Will drop in value
Like you wouldn’t believe!
THE RAVAGES OF TIME
—Joe Nolan
Somewhere,
Inside your pain,
You remain.
I touch you,
Feel the layers
Of your pain
That cover
Over,
But you remain.
It’s so hard
Not to cry.
A slow-motion avalanche
That covers over
What remains.
My love
Cannot cure you
From the ravages of time.
_______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
How did it get so late so soon?
—Dr. Seuss
_______________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors for “An Embarrassment of Riches”, and to Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) for all his wonderful photos of the California coast!
Sacramento Poetry Week kicks off tonight in Sacramento at Sac Poetry Center, 7:30pm. See all the info at SacPoetryWeek.com/.
—Joe Nolan
Somewhere,
Inside your pain,
You remain.
I touch you,
Feel the layers
Of your pain
That cover
Over,
But you remain.
It’s so hard
Not to cry.
A slow-motion avalanche
That covers over
What remains.
My love
Cannot cure you
From the ravages of time.
_______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
How did it get so late so soon?
—Dr. Seuss
_______________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors for “An Embarrassment of Riches”, and to Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) for all his wonderful photos of the California coast!
Sacramento Poetry Week kicks off tonight in Sacramento at Sac Poetry Center, 7:30pm. See all the info at SacPoetryWeek.com/.
______________________
—Medusa
A reminder that
Poetry in Motion meets
in Placerville today, 10:30am;
and Sacramento Poetry Week
kicks off tonight at
Sacramento Poetry Center,
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.
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 in Motion meets
in Placerville today, 10:30am;
and Sacramento Poetry Week
kicks off tonight at
Sacramento Poetry Center,
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.
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!
