(with Microsoft Designer)
* * *
—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorht,
Claire J. Baker, Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Visuals Courtesy of Medusa
—Public Domain Visuals Courtesy of Medusa
MAGIC ACT
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
All the magicians I have known are experts at one trick. They don’t use coins or cards, nor endless streams of scarves. All they use are smoke and mirrors, meant to be distractions. Before I guess their need to harm, the stage goes dark and spooky. When lights come on, the magic’s gone, replaced by knives that pierce my broken heart.
Don’t trust a magician
who asks you to spin
on a wheel of fortune.
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
All the magicians I have known are experts at one trick. They don’t use coins or cards, nor endless streams of scarves. All they use are smoke and mirrors, meant to be distractions. Before I guess their need to harm, the stage goes dark and spooky. When lights come on, the magic’s gone, replaced by knives that pierce my broken heart.
Don’t trust a magician
who asks you to spin
on a wheel of fortune.
SLEIGHT KNOWLEDGE
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Here’s merlin swirling overhead,
a smaller falcon, bird of prey,
while ’copter, whirling rotor blades,
the merlin squadron over seas.
Welsh bard and prophet, soon to be
the wizard legend, Arthur’s court;
magicians all in fancy’s flight,
from wand and wind as wander land.
Pendragons, legends of the Celts,
Arthurian by all accounts—
save those where hero of the Welsh—
illusionists—as myths I fear.
Devant they say before my time,
but met each day I practised French;
in front of all he staged his play,
folk mesmerised, what seemed to see.
When trained at London platform, youth,
saw conman with his ‘find the queen’;
as knowing folk, so confident,
fetched wallets from within their coats,
he moved that card, in tromp l’oeil,
so won good cash till crowd caught on,
then left his pitch for somewhere else.
That trickster, blatant, knew his pack,
observant, his diverting skills;
the modus of the conjured move,
for sure we know what logic tells.
Though loving mushrooms in a soup,
I’ve never met the magic kind;
but verse and fellow words, well met,
are best magicians for a broth.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Here’s merlin swirling overhead,
a smaller falcon, bird of prey,
while ’copter, whirling rotor blades,
the merlin squadron over seas.
Welsh bard and prophet, soon to be
the wizard legend, Arthur’s court;
magicians all in fancy’s flight,
from wand and wind as wander land.
Pendragons, legends of the Celts,
Arthurian by all accounts—
save those where hero of the Welsh—
illusionists—as myths I fear.
Devant they say before my time,
but met each day I practised French;
in front of all he staged his play,
folk mesmerised, what seemed to see.
When trained at London platform, youth,
saw conman with his ‘find the queen’;
as knowing folk, so confident,
fetched wallets from within their coats,
he moved that card, in tromp l’oeil,
so won good cash till crowd caught on,
then left his pitch for somewhere else.
That trickster, blatant, knew his pack,
observant, his diverting skills;
the modus of the conjured move,
for sure we know what logic tells.
Though loving mushrooms in a soup,
I’ve never met the magic kind;
but verse and fellow words, well met,
are best magicians for a broth.
THE OWL’S FIELD GUIDE
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
I wonder what field guide
the owl reads, turning
his head full circle
as if to ponder meaning
behind meaning.
Is death
the primary thrust
behind an owl
watching and waiting
on a frozen branch?
I could end here,
but Mary Oliver’s mice
freeze in the owl’s field
and rabbits shiver
under angora-like fur.
This soft night
I want each being to live
wholeheartedly, never be
a stray tidbit in any beak,
fangs, claws, jaws or tusks.
IT SEEMS THAT WAY
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Magical tricks to confuse my senses
People with recall as keen as a camera
Changing any word into all of its tenses
Musicians with perfect pitch, etcetera
Knowing best answer before question is asked
Memorizing protocols exactly as written
Ready, willing, and able to do what is tasked
Can roar like a lion, or be soft as a kitten
Human metronomes, counting the beats
Function quite well without recipe book
Masterful at stadiums finding their seats
There’s always a fish that is caught on their hook
They appear on game shows and win big prizes
Building fine castles from out of mere sand
Can handle large problems, whatever arises
If you are lucky, they will shake your hand
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Magical tricks to confuse my senses
People with recall as keen as a camera
Changing any word into all of its tenses
Musicians with perfect pitch, etcetera
Knowing best answer before question is asked
Memorizing protocols exactly as written
Ready, willing, and able to do what is tasked
Can roar like a lion, or be soft as a kitten
Human metronomes, counting the beats
Function quite well without recipe book
Masterful at stadiums finding their seats
There’s always a fish that is caught on their hook
They appear on game shows and win big prizes
Building fine castles from out of mere sand
Can handle large problems, whatever arises
If you are lucky, they will shake your hand
BEHIND THE SCENES
—Caschwa
(The Owl Who Waits)
My little house has no
fireplace,
so we don’t have all
those friendly chats
Also no
stairs
anywhere, so gone are
those elaborate entrances
For some reason, no
windows
in the kitchen or bathroom,
so goodbye to all those
refreshing design ideas
based on daylight
It does have an attached garage,
handy for those times I forget
my car key, or phone, or
something, and no one sees me
walking back and forth retracing
my steps
—Caschwa
(The Owl Who Waits)
My little house has no
fireplace,
so we don’t have all
those friendly chats
Also no
stairs
anywhere, so gone are
those elaborate entrances
For some reason, no
windows
in the kitchen or bathroom,
so goodbye to all those
refreshing design ideas
based on daylight
It does have an attached garage,
handy for those times I forget
my car key, or phone, or
something, and no one sees me
walking back and forth retracing
my steps
MY ROCKING CHAIR
—Caschwa
When the footrest is down, it rocks,
but Rock’n Roll is not my thing, so
I set it to recline and then it welcomes
other genres of musical expression
such as Classical Masterpieces,
my favorite choice
sound-system volume lowered to allow
sleep to prevail, I am treated to the
concerts of players and conductors
whose skills far exceed mine
the formal study of music may
demand that the student put aside
all they have learned before in order
to have a clean slate to mimic the
masters.
No problem, I just set my recliner to
whatever position seems most
amenable to the music I am playing,
and I will join the orchestra, in a
virtual kind of way, and play along
—Caschwa
When the footrest is down, it rocks,
but Rock’n Roll is not my thing, so
I set it to recline and then it welcomes
other genres of musical expression
such as Classical Masterpieces,
my favorite choice
sound-system volume lowered to allow
sleep to prevail, I am treated to the
concerts of players and conductors
whose skills far exceed mine
the formal study of music may
demand that the student put aside
all they have learned before in order
to have a clean slate to mimic the
masters.
No problem, I just set my recliner to
whatever position seems most
amenable to the music I am playing,
and I will join the orchestra, in a
virtual kind of way, and play along
MASS MEDIA CHANGED THINGS
—Caschwa
—Caschwa
[In baseball in the United States and Canada, the seventh-inning stretch (also known as the Lucky 7 in Japan and South Korea) is a long-standing tradition that takes place between the halves of the seventh inning of a game. Fans generally stand up and stretch out their arms and legs and sometimes walk around. It is a popular time to get a late-game snack or an alcoholic beverage, as alcohol sales often cease after the last out of the seventh inning.]
Decades ago I used to enjoy listening to broadcaster Vin Scully do the play-by-play announcing of Dodger baseball games. Scully was right there at the game and the focus was
on the teams and the fans in the stadium. Each game, he would advise us when it was the 7th Inning Stretch, and the organist was on cue to play appropriate sing-along music.
My guess is that the revenue stream generated by the appetites of fans at one ballpark was less than sufficient to post encouraging marketing figures on the big board. So today, those of us watching League Championship Games on TV are not invited to share in the ritual, but instead they just show us additional commercial advertisements.
SMIRKY
—Caschwa
A cup of steaming hot, soothing tea
to splash right into your face
Nothing personal
My feelings are the roots of trees
that quietly invade your pipelines
So wipe your face and good luck
with all the plumbing repairs
—Caschwa
A cup of steaming hot, soothing tea
to splash right into your face
Nothing personal
My feelings are the roots of trees
that quietly invade your pipelines
So wipe your face and good luck
with all the plumbing repairs
WHY CROWS CAW
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Crows didn’t always
Caw like that.
They used to have
Sweet trills,
But nobody ever
Listened to them
When they sang like that,
So they started to make
Strange noises—
Scratchy, raspy, squawky sounds—
Some sounds you’d never imagine,
Completely out of bounds
For birds to make—
Annoying us
To death
And now they make
Disgusting noises
With every other breath,
Until they get
Our attention.
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Crows didn’t always
Caw like that.
They used to have
Sweet trills,
But nobody ever
Listened to them
When they sang like that,
So they started to make
Strange noises—
Scratchy, raspy, squawky sounds—
Some sounds you’d never imagine,
Completely out of bounds
For birds to make—
Annoying us
To death
And now they make
Disgusting noises
With every other breath,
Until they get
Our attention.
BECAUSE HIS MOTHER ASKED
—Joe Nolan
It’s only a
Matter of time
Until the urns
Of water
Turn to wine
When God’s light
Shines upon them.
Normally, this
Wouldn’t be so,
That water,
Under God’s light,
Would turn to wine,
But His Mother
Asked Him to act,
Saying, “They have no wine
For their wedding party.
It’s all gone.
Wouldn’t you do something
For them?”
He said,
“Woman, my time
Has not yet come.”
But He did it anyway,
Because He loved his Mother
And because He could.
—Joe Nolan
It’s only a
Matter of time
Until the urns
Of water
Turn to wine
When God’s light
Shines upon them.
Normally, this
Wouldn’t be so,
That water,
Under God’s light,
Would turn to wine,
But His Mother
Asked Him to act,
Saying, “They have no wine
For their wedding party.
It’s all gone.
Wouldn’t you do something
For them?”
He said,
“Woman, my time
Has not yet come.”
But He did it anyway,
Because He loved his Mother
And because He could.
THE EFFECTS OF IMMINENT RETRIBUTION
—Joe Nolan
The holiness was unbearable
When the Reaper
Came to town—
Sack-cloth and ashes were
Worn as evening gowns,
Self-flagellation
Became de riguer,
Make-up disappeared
From the faces
Of ladies-bourgeoisie.
Everyone got in line
To show humility,
Sorting out the garbage piles
For recycling,
Clamoring against climate change
To prove how green they were
And ladies-bourgeoisie
Gave up their furs.
It lasted only
As long as it lasted—
Until the Reaper
Went his way
Off unto another place,
Inspiring it to grace.
The same scenes
Replayed from
Place to place
As the threat of
Imminent retribution
Put everyone in his place.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
MY LAWN
—Joe Nolan
It’s all clean,
It’s all straight,
It’s all plain
And level,
Since I mow it
Every week,
Without fail,
Since I have
Retired.
My lawn
Is a symbol of pride
Of how hollow
I am inside.
___________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors, some of whom worked with our Seed of the Week, “Magicians I Have Known”.
Sacramento Poetry Center has pronounced Sacramento Poetry Week 2025 to be a huge success. Tonight they will present Youth Writers from 916 Ink. Check it out! Young people reading!
And a note that the deadline for The Al Cortez Memorial Youth Edition of SPC’s New Rivers Chapbook Series and Contest Submissions has been extended to Nov. 15. Info: www.sacpoetrycenter.org/publications-tule-review/.
And hey—Friday is Halloween! Be careful out there!
____________________
—Medusa
And hey—Friday is Halloween! Be careful out there!
____________________
—Medusa
Medusa is getting ready for Halloween!
A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
will features readers
from 916 Ink tonight.
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!
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!
