Friday, July 10, 2020

Alive With Words

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!



POEMS IN THE PASTURE   

The wooden gate says
No Beach Access,
so far from ocean crowds.

Our open circle’s
cleansed by leaf-breeze
the great oak makes.

We sit each in private distance
webbed by eyes and voices
spacing silence.

The hawk alights on a wire
strung with sun.
A poem of Blue Lotus

opens earth under my chair,
I slip in between shade and light,
sky and the tilt-wing attendant

who passes over, speechless,
sailing elsewhere,
judging us alive with words. 






WAY PAST HIGH SCHOOL
    early morning workouts

He walks the shoulder of the track,
his stride grown short but he won’t slack,
keeps going

while runners circle oval rounds.
young and fit. He knows his bounds,
he’s slowing

but keeps this truth: once you stop
you’re done. A creek is drop by drop
free-flowing

as walkers pause to say “good morn”
and ask the year when he was born—
it’s showing.

He’s 91, truckin’ toward another year.
They say Oh wow!! He’s hero here.






STARTHISTLE

Sudden jade-green invasion,
south pasture’s grown knee-high in
scrubby sworls, the thistle our
sheep ate like ice-cream. Gone. But
sure as taxes it comes back
stouter than before. Weed-whack
slash it—it’s constant as stars.






PICTURE OF WAITING

Sheep sheltered in place
too long—till the gate opens
into free pasture.






NEVER SO HIGH   

I stood at the rim with my dog
between thunderhead and silent gorges,
summit dark as cloud. Wordless
deafening dialogue
of opponent Old Norse gods.
Storm in all directions.
Trail crew gone, fighting distant
lightning fires, armed not with guns
but chainsaws and shovels.
We had no red-card, my dog and I
alone on the mountain.
Fireworks to east, north, south.
The moment electric, free. A choice.
How to admit
we were way too high? I picked
a creek without a name,
down, toward a river off the map,
charged with electric sky.

 




 ZOOM   

Zero hour for birthday by
Zoom, your kids, grands & nephews—
zipless talk & laughter, a
zoo of chatter, bad wifi
zones out, voices turn to
zither without words or else
Zoom-Zoom, your dead cousin’s cat.
 





Today’s LittleNip:

FREE WAVES
—Taylor Graham

After long absence
we’re together but distant,
masked against a plague.
The pond summer-full with birds,
blue water lapping its shores.

____________________

Many thanks to Taylor Graham for today’s post! She sends us a modified Triversen (“Poems in the Pasture”), a Linda Klein Sonnet Variation (“Way Past High School”), Pleiades (“Starthistle” & “Zoom”), Tanka and Haiku.

____________________

FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY! 

It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers! Each Friday for awhile, there will be poems posted here from some of our readers using forms—either ones which were mentioned on Medusa during the previous week, or whatever else floats through the Kitchen and the perpetually stoned mind of Medusa. If these instructions are vague, it's because they're meant to be. Just fiddle around with some forms and get them posted in the Kitchen.

Joyce Odam sent an intriguing poem: it’s a Paradigm Poem, made up of five verses, each a different form: Mondo, Katauta, Choka, Waka, Tanka. Thanks, Joyce!




OLD LOVERS’ PARRY
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

Does my mirror lie?
There is rain in the old glass.
Whose tears burn my face?           
The distant nightingale sings—
sings all night for its freedom.

All night I have wept.                   
My pillow is still grieving.
How can you feign sleep?
I dreamed you were a wood-thrush.  
The forest hid you.
I searched with my empty cage,
but you would not sing.
Is that not enough for you?

Look how my wet gown                 
makes tear-puddles on the floor;
I have brought the rain.
The song in my heart begins.
Thus have I returned to you.

Ah, but you are old . . .                    
old like last night’s vintage wine . . .
how you confound me!
I tease and you grow angry.
Don’t listen to your mirror.
 




Jennifer Fenn was inspired to send us lots of poems this week. She writes that “Taylor Graham’s Book Spine Poem, ‘Quick-Step’, inspired the one I am submitting below, ‘Plainsong’. I am also sending a double Pleiades (‘Change’), an Octo (‘Power Poles’), a Limerick (‘Oh to See Venice!’), and a Haiku (‘D-Day’)”. Thank you, Jennifer!


PLAINSONG
—Jennifer Fenn, Fresno, CA

David Copperfield,
the star thrower,
Beowulf,
the Paris orphan,
Sara Crew,
Little Saint Elizabeth,
friends for Life!
Living on air
Beyond the forest,
let evening come!

* * *

CHANGE
—Jennifer Fenn

Covid climbs in, corners us,
catches us, capture us, like
canaries in wire cages,
comfortless, away from friends.
Clock ticks to months, we scramble,
cram to crack this conundrum,
conjuring up a vaccine.

Confined from my grandmother,
can’t watch classic movies with her.
Cocoa together is out.
Cruel, cold-hearted tyrant,
crashing my birthday, leaving
crumbs instead of cake and cream,
cast off your hideous crown!

* * *

POWER POLES
—Jennifer Fenn

Some beetle-eaten pines still stand
above their long-time forest home.
Their arms and trunks become bare bones,
they’re looking like they’re power poles!

Will lightning catch and burn like coals?
Their arms and trunks become bare bones.
Above their long-time forest home,
some beetle-eaten pines still stand.

* * *

OH TO SEE VENICE!
—Jennifer Fenn

I hear canal water’s now clean,
With sun sparkling on it! Pristine!
But travel’s banned! I sigh.
No gondolas float by.
I must wait to view such a scene!

* * *

D-DAY
—Jennifer Fenn

White sky, black cannons.
Ocean on TV foams gray,
But we know it’s red.
 





Sacramento’s Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) checks in again, this week with an Acrostic (“Limo Lino Pop”), a Triolet (“Cracked Bell”), and a Sonnette (“Mayflies”):
 

LIMO LINO POP
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

Life
In
Money
Only

Liberty
In
Name
Only

Pursuit
Of
Power

* * *

CRACKED BELL
—Caschwa

my potato chip had a crack in it
no honor or respect had leaked out
the nonjudgmental dip cared not a whit
my potato chip had a crack in it
in that virgin part I had not yet bit
well just a little, to leave no doubt
my potato chip had a crack in it
no honor or respect had leaked out

* * *

MAYFLIES 
—Caschwa

the pandemic has made us all mayflies
the whole life experience foreshortened
to one speck of existence apportioned
among creatures who will never be wise
business as usual thrown out the door
masks are the new normal, raw suburban
this is what life is, we can’t ask for more

_____________________

Wow! Look at all the forms that were represented here today! Thank you to these fine poets for fiddling along with us. Feel free to tackle any or all of these forms yourself—whatdaya got to lose???

Lots of Japanese forms float through the Kitchen; you might want to check out Billy Collins’ master class on them at www.masterclass.com/articles/a-guide-to-japanese-poetic-forms#quiz-0/.

Resources for today’s forms may be found at:

•••Acrostic: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/acrostic.html
•••Book Spine Poem: law.marquette.edu/facultyblog/2020/04/national-poetry-month-create-book-spine-poetry; see medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=book+spine+poem for Taylor Graham’s “Quick-Step”
•••Choka: popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/11/choka.html
•••Katauta: www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/katauta-poetic-form 



 Frogs Sheltering in Place
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA



















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.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com.
The snakes of Medusa are always hungry!


 Saddle up. poets!

Posted by at