—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Nolcha Fox
A CERTAIN STRANGER
I tried to open sleepy eyes
and look into the mirror.
A bad idea before the coffee
hit my fainting heart.
I saw a woman unfamiliar,
no one I’d ever seen before.
someone haunted by her choices,
someone sorry for her faults,
someone wishing for love lasting,
someone running from dark shadows,
someone lost in bad decisions,
someone doubtful of beginnings,
someone moving
toward a certain death.
I tried to open sleepy eyes
and look into the mirror.
A bad idea before the coffee
hit my fainting heart.
I saw a woman unfamiliar,
no one I’d ever seen before.
someone haunted by her choices,
someone sorry for her faults,
someone wishing for love lasting,
someone running from dark shadows,
someone lost in bad decisions,
someone doubtful of beginnings,
someone moving
toward a certain death.
THE WOMAN AND THE SNAKE
I am a gift you don’t know how to open.
Best leave me alone, you’ll find yourself inside.
I am the snake in every woman,
The woman in every snake.
Walk carefully. Avoid dark alleys,
red light districts, no-tell motels.
I leave behind red slippers,
a hint of jasmine,
an opium dream.
Of course, you’ll seek me out.
I am a myth that winds round your body,
a tail that grows larger with every telling.
I’m the place you’ve always longed
to visit, the place you’ve never been.
I am a gift you don’t know how to open.
Best leave me alone, you’ll find yourself inside.
I am the snake in every woman,
The woman in every snake.
Walk carefully. Avoid dark alleys,
red light districts, no-tell motels.
I leave behind red slippers,
a hint of jasmine,
an opium dream.
Of course, you’ll seek me out.
I am a myth that winds round your body,
a tail that grows larger with every telling.
I’m the place you’ve always longed
to visit, the place you’ve never been.
ALL EYES
Eyes disguise
my true intent.
They distract, you
lose the scent.
You don’t know if
I came or went.
I leave you in
ambivalence.
ALONG FOR THE FALL
What do I hear? Ears
must be twirling cochlear, fear
racing fast as heartbeat song. Wrong
of me to play along, belong
with lemmings, never think, sink
into salty drink, hoodwinked.
What do I hear? Ears
must be twirling cochlear, fear
racing fast as heartbeat song. Wrong
of me to play along, belong
with lemmings, never think, sink
into salty drink, hoodwinked.
I HATE LAUNDRY IN OCTOBER.
The nights are long.
They drop their stars
before I’m home
from work.
But I still have
a pile of dirty
stuff to wash
before I go to bed.
I stumble through
the field and trip
on pumpkins
as I grope for
clothespins
and the line.
One pin in hand,
I hang the sheet
to scare the
neighbor kids.
The nights are long.
They drop their stars
before I’m home
from work.
But I still have
a pile of dirty
stuff to wash
before I go to bed.
I stumble through
the field and trip
on pumpkins
as I grope for
clothespins
and the line.
One pin in hand,
I hang the sheet
to scare the
neighbor kids.
GOSSIPMONGERS
Trees lean in mist
above the road
to whisper about drivers
who speed this stretch
on Halloween,
and often don’t get home.
They can’t decide if
they like red or white,
if cars or trucks
are more desired.
They agree, and laugh
with glee, that fires
are the best.
FALL
I wonder if the trees might fear
the fall of falling leaves
as much as I fear falling
when wind blows fall
into white chill and ice
is on the sidewalk.
I wonder if the trees might fear
the fall of falling leaves
as much as I fear falling
when wind blows fall
into white chill and ice
is on the sidewalk.
OPEN FOR BUSINESS
The graveyard gate is always shut.
But every Halloween, that gate
mysteriously is open.
The caretaker swears it isn’t him.
He's too busy getting drunk
with buddies at the bar.
I think the residents get tired
of jumping gates, ripping clothes
that earlier were whole.
Now they walk unhindered
down the path, into the town
to scare up some good screams.
Satisfied, they drift away.
They’ll be back to live it up
same time, same place next year.
The graveyard gate is always shut.
But every Halloween, that gate
mysteriously is open.
The caretaker swears it isn’t him.
He's too busy getting drunk
with buddies at the bar.
I think the residents get tired
of jumping gates, ripping clothes
that earlier were whole.
Now they walk unhindered
down the path, into the town
to scare up some good screams.
Satisfied, they drift away.
They’ll be back to live it up
same time, same place next year.
STINGY JACK
He loved his drink.
He cheated death three times.
Jack is the face of pumpkins
we carve on Halloween.
I don’t know yet if we can hallow
Jack on All Saints Day.
If he is not sober yet, he may
be drying out in Purgatory.
All Soul’s Day, we hallow him
and pray him up to Heaven.
We remember Jack three days
a year when spirits wander.
CATCHING YOU
You were the whistle of a train
ripping through the velvet night.
I couldn’t catch you.
You were the V
of homebound geese.
I couldn’t catch you.
I always loved you
but you wanted something else.
I couldn’t catch you.
Now you’re underneath a marker
I can touch.
I finally caught you.
AWFUL
My awful cough
is the aunt
who visited for
the weekend
and stayed for
two weeks.
She painted
my bedroom
fluorescent pink
and rearranged
my kitchen.
I’m so glad
she’s gone.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
FAVORITE FALL
—Nolcha Fox
Frequently falling
foliage fiery
foxy flaxen
faded fizzle.
Fireplaces
flicker, fume.
Fermenting
fluids, flushed,
flabbergasted,
fickle forecasts,
fondly fall.
___________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for today’s fine October poetry, and for finding the photos to go with it!!
My awful cough
is the aunt
who visited for
the weekend
and stayed for
two weeks.
She painted
my bedroom
fluorescent pink
and rearranged
my kitchen.
I’m so glad
she’s gone.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
FAVORITE FALL
—Nolcha Fox
Frequently falling
foliage fiery
foxy flaxen
faded fizzle.
Fireplaces
flicker, fume.
Fermenting
fluids, flushed,
flabbergasted,
fickle forecasts,
fondly fall.
___________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Nolcha Fox for today’s fine October poetry, and for finding the photos to go with it!!
For info about
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!
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!
