—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down to Form Fiddlers' Friday!
CLEARING THE DAY
Early new year, early morning. All
is sparkling, surroundings washed clean with
wind-scrub. Frost slick as fate on porch steps
and gateway. Yesterday is gone, I’ve
ridden it hard enough already.
On a dead-leaf oak branch, one bird calls
noncommittal as a dial-tone.
Sun tops Stone Mountain, drift of cloud
floats vibrant-lemon over dead grass.
Bird’s song is gratitude of this day.
Early new year, early morning. All
is sparkling, surroundings washed clean with
wind-scrub. Frost slick as fate on porch steps
and gateway. Yesterday is gone, I’ve
ridden it hard enough already.
On a dead-leaf oak branch, one bird calls
noncommittal as a dial-tone.
Sun tops Stone Mountain, drift of cloud
floats vibrant-lemon over dead grass.
Bird’s song is gratitude of this day.
DAWN LENTO
Compare this morning to the passing night?
Unfair. Beauty of light against the dark?
Midair, the flight of owl, the steady stars
ensnare. And then the song of meadowlark.
Skip the talk. Call my dog, we’ll walk the trail.
Grip my tracking stick—twilight, dark or dawn.
Drip of rain from oak leaves, wet underfoot,
flip the page on minutes already gone.
Compare this morning to the passing night?
Unfair. Beauty of light against the dark?
Midair, the flight of owl, the steady stars
ensnare. And then the song of meadowlark.
Skip the talk. Call my dog, we’ll walk the trail.
Grip my tracking stick—twilight, dark or dawn.
Drip of rain from oak leaves, wet underfoot,
flip the page on minutes already gone.
CONSOLATION IN THE RAIN
Along the rainy forest road at night
you’d been hoping for a meteor display
above the clearing, Lyrids flashing bright
along the rainy forest road at night—
that lyric sound? No lyre. Guitar at play,
a distant neighbor’s boy, his fingers light
along the rainy forest road at night.
You’d been hoping for a meteor display…
Along the rainy forest road at night
you’d been hoping for a meteor display
above the clearing, Lyrids flashing bright
along the rainy forest road at night—
that lyric sound? No lyre. Guitar at play,
a distant neighbor’s boy, his fingers light
along the rainy forest road at night.
You’d been hoping for a meteor display…
A DREAM AS CONGRESS COUNTS THE VOTES
I’m walking downtown with my dog
when someone else’s rabid dog breaks loose
threatening the street, shoppers running
for their lives. Is it my fault?
I sleep from watching TV at home,
my dog dozing on the couch. Rioters break out
marching our Nation’s flag to storm
the Capitol. Is this my fault?
In my dream we’re all connected.
I’m walking downtown with my dog
when someone else’s rabid dog breaks loose
threatening the street, shoppers running
for their lives. Is it my fault?
I sleep from watching TV at home,
my dog dozing on the couch. Rioters break out
marching our Nation’s flag to storm
the Capitol. Is this my fault?
In my dream we’re all connected.
ARS POETICA 19
Something to tease the critics, a scatter of
words—illogic, structure, chandelier—to set
on the page according to their color and
sound, the warp and woof of a weave whose pattern
may puzzle or please. I wrote in mimic of
a new lauded voice. I sent it out; printed
in a noted journal. I stumbled on it
the other day. Who wrote this? My name in the
byline. It’s interesting in a remote
sense. It’s got a swing to it, and aura. It’s
not my child, it’s borrowed blood. I put it back
in its tome. I’ll take a gloaming walk with my
dog in the rain of falling woods and let a
poem find me.
Something to tease the critics, a scatter of
words—illogic, structure, chandelier—to set
on the page according to their color and
sound, the warp and woof of a weave whose pattern
may puzzle or please. I wrote in mimic of
a new lauded voice. I sent it out; printed
in a noted journal. I stumbled on it
the other day. Who wrote this? My name in the
byline. It’s interesting in a remote
sense. It’s got a swing to it, and aura. It’s
not my child, it’s borrowed blood. I put it back
in its tome. I’ll take a gloaming walk with my
dog in the rain of falling woods and let a
poem find me.
Conks
JANUARY GROWTH
The mushrooms are coming. These: drab,
plain as an unpaid bill. They grab
for purchase, pushing up with loam
in their cups, and dried forest foam,
dead oak leaves, broken twigs that jab.
Soon, wonders beyond science lab:
all shapes of gizzard, kidney, crab,
a knight unhorsed, a dwarf, a gnome,
the mushrooms are coming.
Do they confer together, gab
at how the living hungers stab,
or the dishevel of our home?
Each tree-conk like a blunted comb,
a frilly, ruffled elfin scab.
The mushrooms are coming.
Today’s LittleNip:
LIVE OAK MEDITATION
—Taylor Graham
Rain-shine oaks can slake a thirst
and doubt, each oak true since birth.
It holds no alternate facts,
simply acts by heart of earth.
____________________
Many thanks to Taylor Graham for these snappy poems and photos! Her forms today include a Rannaigecht (“Live Oak Meditation”); a Triolet (“Consolation in the Rain”); Normative Syllabics (“Ars Poetica 19” and “Clearing the Day”, which is also a Word-can poem); a Lento (“Dawn Lento”); and a Rondeau (“January Growth”).
The Word-can form consists of putting lots of random words on slips of paper into a can, and then drawing out five and making a poem out of them.
For info about the conk, go to gatrees.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/FungalConksonTrees.pdf/.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
LIVE OAK MEDITATION
—Taylor Graham
Rain-shine oaks can slake a thirst
and doubt, each oak true since birth.
It holds no alternate facts,
simply acts by heart of earth.
____________________
Many thanks to Taylor Graham for these snappy poems and photos! Her forms today include a Rannaigecht (“Live Oak Meditation”); a Triolet (“Consolation in the Rain”); Normative Syllabics (“Ars Poetica 19” and “Clearing the Day”, which is also a Word-can poem); a Lento (“Dawn Lento”); and a Rondeau (“January Growth”).
The Word-can form consists of putting lots of random words on slips of paper into a can, and then drawing out five and making a poem out of them.
For info about the conk, go to gatrees.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/FungalConksonTrees.pdf/.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
This week, Claire Baker has sent us a spunky Triolet (“with variations”, she says). Thanks, Claire!
THINKING LIKE AN EGG
(remembering Aina)
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
We won the raw-egg tossing contest!
From 12-feet off our egg was thrown—
if cracking, one is sorely messed!
We won the raw-egg tossing contest
soft-handed, since we had assessed
ring-bands on shells hit hard as stone.
We won the picnic raw-egg contest:
six times our white orb held its own!
Joyce Odam sent us a Haibun. Thanks, Joyce!
FROM THE TRAVELS
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
Faded signs would never name the towns. It always
rained, and there was no one to give directions. The
sole café was sad—like in the movies—or in the
Hopper paintings.
A child always stood in the road behind us, bouncing
a red ball in the shadows between the few thin trees
that stretched toward each other across the lane.
A woman always appeared in an open doorway,
watching us leave.
A voice speaks to me,
no one there, but I answer—
who is it this time ?
(first pub. in Parting Gifts, Winter 1998-99; also in
Peripherals: Prose Poems, Rattlesnake Press, 2009)
In his first poem today, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) has done the reverse of Taylor’s Lento (above). He has rhymed the first word of each line, while she has done the more traditional Lento rhyme scheme. (Both variations, incidentally, are correct; see www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lento.html/.) Yesterday was Carl’s birthday, by the way.
ADAGIO MISERABLE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
dough left in roadway to be flattened, while
speedo air drying on the back of a
doe in forest clearing, listening to
rondo that her own mother used to play
bone of contention had kept them apart
phone calls outwore welcome, sure to annoy,
tone deaf emoji images lacked touch:
known measure of kinship avoirdupois
ADAGIO MISERABLE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
dough left in roadway to be flattened, while
speedo air drying on the back of a
doe in forest clearing, listening to
rondo that her own mother used to play
bone of contention had kept them apart
phone calls outwore welcome, sure to annoy,
tone deaf emoji images lacked touch:
known measure of kinship avoirdupois
This is an Ottova Rima from Carl:
ZERO HERO
—Caschwa
the module left him off at a precipice
where he got a foothold that barely held him
from falling miles and miles into an abyss
but he kept on climbing though chances were slim
and with his last breath he gave the peak a kiss;
it had been worthwhile, all those hours at the gym
“Honey, is that you up there? The tavern phoned,
they have your house keys” and on and on she droned
And an Argonelle Chain:
FOR NOW
—Caschwa
Wednesday
keen to express their views
they’d come to have some rowdy fun
did plenty of that, now they’re done
made their point, breaking news
except
5 live souls extinguished
jettisoned off the ship of state
did not make America great
laws broken, hate languished
for now
most hiding, some to jail
we have no handy fix it kit
the President is in deep shit
vowed to fight tooth and nail
we knew
he would never concede
all is working out as he planned
fires he lit are still being fanned
what is his next dire deed?
And last, Carl says this is “a little Alouette”:
JACKPOT
—Caschwa
odds of winning, small
most won’t gain at all
don’t need to be filthy rich
front page Wall Street news,
just enough to lose
that “above my pay grade” pitch
__________________
Many thanks to our SnakePals for their brave fiddling! Would you like to be a SnakePal? All you have to do is send poetry—forms or not—and/or photos and artwork to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post work from all over the world, including that which was previously-published. Just remember: the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—for poetry, of course!
__________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Alouette: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alouette.html
•••Argonelle: poeticsonline.com/glossary/argonelles
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Lento: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lento.html
•••Minute Poem: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/minute.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Ottava Rima: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/ottava-rima-poetic-form
•••Rannaigecht: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rannaigecht-poetic-forms
•••Rondeau: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/rondeau
•••Triolet: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/triolet-an-easy-way-to-write-8-lines-of-poetry
•••Word-can Poem: putting lots of random words on slips of paper into a can, and then drawing out five and making a poem out of them.
__________________
—Medusa
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