—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And be sure to scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
A MOONSCAPE
Hills we used to climb for the picture-
postcard view—gone up last September
in crimson/smoke on the evening news.
We used to come for lupine, lily, paint-
brush, penstemon.
We’re back to see the pines
in skeleton, meadow under an ashy dew;
not expecting shoots from gutted cedar,
green sprigs too small to notice when
we came for mountains with a view.
Hills we used to climb for the picture-
postcard view—gone up last September
in crimson/smoke on the evening news.
We used to come for lupine, lily, paint-
brush, penstemon.
We’re back to see the pines
in skeleton, meadow under an ashy dew;
not expecting shoots from gutted cedar,
green sprigs too small to notice when
we came for mountains with a view.
PERSIAN
This silken carpet with its woven vines,
a pattern intricate as life’s designs,
lies underfoot and yet so far away—
exotic land of symbols, colors, signs.
You fathom what the netted patterns say—
the speechless leaves in glorious array,
and birds of brilliant plumage so diverse
they rival Eden’s garden in display.
You wander on this carpet’s universe
and wonder, is it blessing or a curse
devised for travelers passing through,
or poets journeying from verse to verse?
Enough. His feet rest on this carpet too.
He finds among its threads your own eyes’ blue
reflecting like his gray within the lines
of silken weave that makes the pattern true.
This silken carpet with its woven vines,
a pattern intricate as life’s designs,
lies underfoot and yet so far away—
exotic land of symbols, colors, signs.
You fathom what the netted patterns say—
the speechless leaves in glorious array,
and birds of brilliant plumage so diverse
they rival Eden’s garden in display.
You wander on this carpet’s universe
and wonder, is it blessing or a curse
devised for travelers passing through,
or poets journeying from verse to verse?
Enough. His feet rest on this carpet too.
He finds among its threads your own eyes’ blue
reflecting like his gray within the lines
of silken weave that makes the pattern true.
BREAK
Spring break from grad school, structures of verse. Drive to Yosemite, camp beyond lullaby of falls. Hike up vertigo switchbacks; backpackers on the trail with everything they need on their backs. In the gift shop, fall in love—a topo map of the valley’s ring of cliffs, contours sun-shadowed to work of art. You just knew maps flat as a graded street. Gaze now at eroding granite walls—find them on your map-scroll. Where does this lead beyond classroom? A good pair of boots. Driving home, Debussy on car radio intrudes on silence. The new map—
your world on paper
drawn in all its dizziness
so you can walk it.
Spring break from grad school, structures of verse. Drive to Yosemite, camp beyond lullaby of falls. Hike up vertigo switchbacks; backpackers on the trail with everything they need on their backs. In the gift shop, fall in love—a topo map of the valley’s ring of cliffs, contours sun-shadowed to work of art. You just knew maps flat as a graded street. Gaze now at eroding granite walls—find them on your map-scroll. Where does this lead beyond classroom? A good pair of boots. Driving home, Debussy on car radio intrudes on silence. The new map—
your world on paper
drawn in all its dizziness
so you can walk it.
ETUDE IN BLUE
inspired by internet photo, “Ice Harp”
She plays strange music on the frozen strings
while back home her brother beats the fire drum.
Blue notes slide chill as waterfall that sings
her strangest music on the frozen strings—
its lyric secret, atmosphere that stings.
Fire or ice—what will unknown futures hum?
She plays strange music on the frozen strings
while back home her brother beats the fire drum.
inspired by internet photo, “Ice Harp”
She plays strange music on the frozen strings
while back home her brother beats the fire drum.
Blue notes slide chill as waterfall that sings
her strangest music on the frozen strings—
its lyric secret, atmosphere that stings.
Fire or ice—what will unknown futures hum?
She plays strange music on the frozen strings
while back home her brother beats the fire drum.
HIGHER
Grateful for release,
she clutches the heavy chains,
arcs her body into full swing skyward
by arm-and-leg-pump power. Better
than Ferris wheel at the fair—resurrection
after arithmetic. She flies higher
than the rock wall, last tier of playground,
squinting against afternoon sun, guiding
on some instinct she couldn’t name.
Can’t recess last till midnight
into morning?
Grateful for release,
she clutches the heavy chains,
arcs her body into full swing skyward
by arm-and-leg-pump power. Better
than Ferris wheel at the fair—resurrection
after arithmetic. She flies higher
than the rock wall, last tier of playground,
squinting against afternoon sun, guiding
on some instinct she couldn’t name.
Can’t recess last till midnight
into morning?
ARS POETICA MANIFESTO
I’m writing a poem, not a manifesto.
Nothing political although it skirts my place
in the greater system, eco-socio-spirit context
of my steps across school parking lot. What
could a manifesto matter? This is Sunday,
there’s no one here but the figures in a grade-
school mural of history and landscape—
what defines and/or defies us. “Rescue Rides
Through History.” I didn’t go to school here.
The mural shows a small girl jumping rope
and a boy rolling a hoop; hills and oak trees,
a waystation and a stage coach, Pony Express
rider flattened on his galloping horse’s neck.
Oh, that must be me in child-vision. Meter-
pulse of hoof-beats, scent of horse-sweat.
This is my poem.
I’m writing a poem, not a manifesto.
Nothing political although it skirts my place
in the greater system, eco-socio-spirit context
of my steps across school parking lot. What
could a manifesto matter? This is Sunday,
there’s no one here but the figures in a grade-
school mural of history and landscape—
what defines and/or defies us. “Rescue Rides
Through History.” I didn’t go to school here.
The mural shows a small girl jumping rope
and a boy rolling a hoop; hills and oak trees,
a waystation and a stage coach, Pony Express
rider flattened on his galloping horse’s neck.
Oh, that must be me in child-vision. Meter-
pulse of hoof-beats, scent of horse-sweat.
This is my poem.
Today’s LittleNip:
TANAGA
—Taylor Graham
What’s the fee for peace of mind?
See what feathered bird you find—
wings meant for flight—then it’s gone
between midnight and the dawn.
So you wake instead of sleep
while cat purrs in cozy nook
of your knees and—well, just look,
the dog’s lost in dreaming deep.
___________________
Good morning, as we tackle another Friday with the help of Taylor Graham and her fine poetry, photos and forms! Today she sends us a Rubaiyat Chain/interlocking rubaiyat (“Persian”); a Tanaga (“Tanaga”); a Triolet (“Etude in Blue”, also an Ekphrastic); plus a Haibun (“Ars Poetica”); and a Word-Can Poem (“Higher”). She says that “Moonscape” (revised) is from her little pocket chap, Still Life with Wood Smoke, published by our old pal, Ben Hiatt.
And now it’s time for…
TANAGA
—Taylor Graham
What’s the fee for peace of mind?
See what feathered bird you find—
wings meant for flight—then it’s gone
between midnight and the dawn.
So you wake instead of sleep
while cat purrs in cozy nook
of your knees and—well, just look,
the dog’s lost in dreaming deep.
___________________
Good morning, as we tackle another Friday with the help of Taylor Graham and her fine poetry, photos and forms! Today she sends us a Rubaiyat Chain/interlocking rubaiyat (“Persian”); a Tanaga (“Tanaga”); a Triolet (“Etude in Blue”, also an Ekphrastic); plus a Haibun (“Ars Poetica”); and a Word-Can Poem (“Higher”). She says that “Moonscape” (revised) is from her little pocket chap, Still Life with Wood Smoke, published by our old pal, Ben Hiatt.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
Joyce Odam has sent us a poem in Normative Syllabics form (5 syllables to the line):
BOTHERSOME COUNTING
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
When you are counting
the long thin hours
of the day—the long
thin day that becomes
filled with the naggings
of the mind in its
wanderings—failing—
precious time that is
not for the wasting,
the static measures,
when life's wonderments
can fill the mind with
all the time you waste . . .
And Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) has responded to one of Joyce’s poems with a poem of his own:
SAILING AROUND THE WORLD
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
(After “How We Almost Plagiarize” by
Joyce Odam, Medusa’s Kitchen,
March 9, 2021)
Mary Oliver’s “Seven White Butterflies”
are life on the 7 continents, as seen
through the eyes of white explorers, who
use their own shade of white as the
standard upon which to compare all
human forms
They are sparkling diamonds placed on
an inky, felt cushion to achieve the best
photographic image
They are egrets admiring their own
reflections in the blackest of waters
They are the purest of vanilla ice cream
topping off the darkest of berry pie
Blake and Whitman said
they are here to stay with us—
he looks like a man
Last Friday’s Fiddlers’ Challenge was the Tanaga (poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tanag). Taylor Graham sent us one (see LittleNip above), and here are Carl’s:
TWO UNTITLED TANAGAS
—Caschwa
if Filipino refers
to Philippines, that infers
use a kniphe when dressed in phurs—
plus a phork when that occurs?
negotiations abroad
have been suspected of fraud
women used just for their bod—
is our goal to be slipshod?
show your finest chinaware
if you have some anywhere
paper plates? use by the pair—
who is going to really care?
* * *
don’t usually like the rain
it might as well stay in Spain
prefer a nice sunlit lane
do you have to say I’m vain?
summertime with ice cream scoops
what is your flavor, fruit loops?
burning desire, flaming hoops
what could go wrong with this? whoops!
Pamplona’s running of bulls
draws folks like a magnet pulls
robs peoples’ brains by handfuls
are their eyes covered by wools?
TWO UNTITLED TANAGAS
—Caschwa
if Filipino refers
to Philippines, that infers
use a kniphe when dressed in phurs—
plus a phork when that occurs?
negotiations abroad
have been suspected of fraud
women used just for their bod—
is our goal to be slipshod?
show your finest chinaware
if you have some anywhere
paper plates? use by the pair—
who is going to really care?
* * *
don’t usually like the rain
it might as well stay in Spain
prefer a nice sunlit lane
do you have to say I’m vain?
summertime with ice cream scoops
what is your flavor, fruit loops?
burning desire, flaming hoops
what could go wrong with this? whoops!
Pamplona’s running of bulls
draws folks like a magnet pulls
robs peoples’ brains by handfuls
are their eyes covered by wools?
Here is Carl’s peppy Waltmarie:
BUT THERE THEY ARE
—Caschwa
while gazing throughout the
backyard
filled with trees, raised beds, dragonflies, and
squirrels
bright yellow flowers caught my eye, which
must have
arisen from items the squirrels
buried
the Internet told me my new plants were
peanuts
In response to Medusa’s recent Seed of the Week [“What Really Matters”], Carl says, “Here is a very short Quatrain chain: Meter 5/4/5/4; mostly trochaic rhyme scheme: xaxa/xbxb/xcxc. If this happens to be original and looking for name, I’d call it ‘Hot Spot’”:
MICROWAVE TIPS
—Caschwa
after years and years
of hit and miss
some with bad outcomes
some worth a kiss
all of them freelance
none were published
preview my findings
from the rubbish
of all things, here’s what
really matters:
cover the food that
really splatters
MICROWAVE TIPS
—Caschwa
after years and years
of hit and miss
some with bad outcomes
some worth a kiss
all of them freelance
none were published
preview my findings
from the rubbish
of all things, here’s what
really matters:
cover the food that
really splatters
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!
__________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
__________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
Loop Poetry: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/looppoetry.html
___________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Loop Poetry: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/looppoetry.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples#quiz-0
•••Rubáiyát: www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/rubaiyat.htm
•••Tanaga: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tanag
•••Triolet: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/triolet-an-easy-way-to-write-8-lines-of-poetry
•••Waltmarie: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/waltmarie-poetic-forms
•••Word-Can Poem: putting lots of random words on slips of paper into a can, and then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them.
____________________
—Medusa
•••Rubáiyát: www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/rubaiyat.htm
•••Tanaga: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tanag
•••Triolet: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/triolet-an-easy-way-to-write-8-lines-of-poetry
•••Waltmarie: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/waltmarie-poetic-forms
•••Word-Can Poem: putting lots of random words on slips of paper into a can, and then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them.
____________________
—Medusa
“…arcs her body into full swing skyward…”
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