—And be sure to scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
TRESPASS
Sin’s
wages?
Those mages,
our black-face sheep,
contemplate long ages
of trespass while their humans sleep.
What are fences? They’re surely meant to leap.
Boomer, Riveter—each sheep’s born to know the ins-
and-outs of stock-wire, electric tape: creep
under, around, or push through; reap
roses. As Mistress rages,
the new lambs peep
thru cages.
Sages.
Jinns.
Sin’s
wages?
Those mages,
our black-face sheep,
contemplate long ages
of trespass while their humans sleep.
What are fences? They’re surely meant to leap.
Boomer, Riveter—each sheep’s born to know the ins-
and-outs of stock-wire, electric tape: creep
under, around, or push through; reap
roses. As Mistress rages,
the new lambs peep
thru cages.
Sages.
Jinns.
WARMUP
Yesterday was woodstove weather,
today it’s blossoming spring at the farm,
buttercups crowding against old dead branches,
inviting them to a yellow-dance. Wild geese
flying in pairs over the pond, each pair
finding its couple-quarters.
I could stay forever, breathing sun-yellow.
Come outside and feel the spring!
These daffodils—come see them now
before they’re gone.
Yesterday was woodstove weather,
today it’s blossoming spring at the farm,
buttercups crowding against old dead branches,
inviting them to a yellow-dance. Wild geese
flying in pairs over the pond, each pair
finding its couple-quarters.
I could stay forever, breathing sun-yellow.
Come outside and feel the spring!
These daffodils—come see them now
before they’re gone.
Can You See It?
PLAIN SIGHT
O bright green tree frog
hiding in deadfall branches,
disguised as spring leaf—
my lens can’t see you at all
until whoop! you up and leap!
FAIR TRADE
I had a pasture but no horse.
A neighbor I’d never met before
had a horse but no pasture.
We struck a deal.
Now we both have a horse and
pasture—not forever; what is
forever? A lush
green moment, however long
it lasts. And a goat
is part of it, horse’s hooved
companion.
So now I’ve got a new friend
neighbor plus a goat and a horse.
I had a pasture but no horse.
A neighbor I’d never met before
had a horse but no pasture.
We struck a deal.
Now we both have a horse and
pasture—not forever; what is
forever? A lush
green moment, however long
it lasts. And a goat
is part of it, horse’s hooved
companion.
So now I’ve got a new friend
neighbor plus a goat and a horse.
EXCUSE FOR NOT WRITING
I was starting to weed-eat the pasture
when he arrived—Galahad I call him,
knight’s horse of fantasy—through the gate,
now grazing at his ease. How could I dream
such a thing? Why should I keep
April breeze from flowing through grass
and fencing? The poem arrived
without pencil or paper, and sits like
meadowlark on brain, singing.
I was starting to weed-eat the pasture
when he arrived—Galahad I call him,
knight’s horse of fantasy—through the gate,
now grazing at his ease. How could I dream
such a thing? Why should I keep
April breeze from flowing through grass
and fencing? The poem arrived
without pencil or paper, and sits like
meadowlark on brain, singing.
THE WIND ATE MY POEM
It tore up my notebook.
What a wind! to set the last dead oak leaves
flying, and fill out those old stained
britches on the clothesline like embodiment
of a grease-monkey. Wild turkeys used
the shed for a wind-shield. I rescued
half-a-dozen empty dogfood bags, goodly
supply for fetching deadfall branches for the fire.
Wind chimes all went crazy. As far
as I could see, that wind set the whole world
dancing, and sky swept clean for April.
Wind left me nothing but a bunch of images
blown through my head and onto a scrap
of paper. It blew my words clean
away.
It tore up my notebook.
What a wind! to set the last dead oak leaves
flying, and fill out those old stained
britches on the clothesline like embodiment
of a grease-monkey. Wild turkeys used
the shed for a wind-shield. I rescued
half-a-dozen empty dogfood bags, goodly
supply for fetching deadfall branches for the fire.
Wind chimes all went crazy. As far
as I could see, that wind set the whole world
dancing, and sky swept clean for April.
Wind left me nothing but a bunch of images
blown through my head and onto a scrap
of paper. It blew my words clean
away.
Today’s LittleNip:
CRAZY TIMES
CRAZY TIMES
—Taylor Graham
In my dream the rioters passed.
Will I be arrested, beaten, gassed?
Cover my face and duck my head,
try to wake up and fall out of bed.
The rioters, proper people all?—
the world’s a topsy turvy ball.
Duck my head and cover my face,
maybe wake up in a better place.
In my dream the rioters passed.
Will I be arrested, beaten, gassed?
Cover my face and duck my head,
try to wake up and fall out of bed.
The rioters, proper people all?—
the world’s a topsy turvy ball.
Duck my head and cover my face,
maybe wake up in a better place.
__________________________
Our thanks to Taylor Graham for April tales of spring lambs and brave little flowers and new friends, both four-footed and two. Some of her poetry is in forms today: a Diatelle, last week’s Fiddler’s Challenge (“Trespass”); a Tanka (“Plain Sight”); a Word-Can Poem (“The Wind Ate My Poem”), and Rhymed Couplets (“Crazy Times”).
Today is the deadline to register for the online Cal. Federation of
Chaparral Poets Convention on April 16-17 at
www.chaparralpoets.org/Convention10.html/. Check in there for a listing
of events and presenters, including a workshop by Sue Daly.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
Joyce Odam has sent us a poem about time this week, using Normative Syllabics (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 . . .
Claire J. Baker sent a Cinquain with an intriguing title, all about Medusa:
WOMAN OF THE STUNNING CHAPEAU
—Claire Baker, Pinole, CA
Under
her writhing snakes
Medusa is femme fatale.
Chaste, yet enraptured, she grooves with
love bites.
WOMAN OF THE STUNNING CHAPEAU
—Claire Baker, Pinole, CA
Under
her writhing snakes
Medusa is femme fatale.
Chaste, yet enraptured, she grooves with
love bites.
Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) is all on center today, starting with a Diatelle:
VROOM!!
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Churn
Asphalt
Big result
Black tire tread marks
Thorough fun, for adult
Extra clean plugs for mighty sparks
Careful not to mix those up-and-down quarks
Whole race, start to finish, is made of one big turn
The driver must aim to speed through those arcs
Contra from relaxing, green parks
skip the lawyer consult
checkered flag harks
ankh occult
exult
learn
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Churn
Asphalt
Big result
Black tire tread marks
Thorough fun, for adult
Extra clean plugs for mighty sparks
Careful not to mix those up-and-down quarks
Whole race, start to finish, is made of one big turn
The driver must aim to speed through those arcs
Contra from relaxing, green parks
skip the lawyer consult
checkered flag harks
ankh occult
exult
learn
And then an Aquarian Chain:
HITHER GO I
—Caschwa
so nice
taking a walk
sipping from my cup of
coffee
breezy
wind chill factor
the mercury rising
slowly
paper
in the driveway
rubber banded, no wrap
dry day
inside
my dog awaits
seeks my full attention
gets it
at last
coffee refill
sit in my easy chair
browse news
____________________
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!
Amanda’s Pinch: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/amandas-pinch
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Amanda’s Pinch: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/amandas-pinch
•••Aquarian: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/aquarian
•••Aquarian Chain: a bunch of Aquarians put together
•••Cinquain: poets.org/glossary/cinquain OR www.poewar.com/poetry-in-forms-series-cinquain
•••Diatelle: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/diatelle.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••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
—Public Domain Photo
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