—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down for FORM FIDDLERS" FRIDAY!!
SUN TEA & SHADE
We’re waiting on camp chairs
in shade of ponderosa and incense cedar
edging main street. Waiting
for Wagon Train in a small crowd
of families with dogs and kids, chairs
and drinks—waiting by horse-time
for muffled thunder of Percheron hooves
on pavement and someone yelling
“here they come!” We’re ready,
with sunhats and poems to share while
we wait. A bottle of sun tea
and a stash of horse poems, ranch poems
of the land beneath us, poems
of Gold Rush and lumbering, high
Sierra rising to the east where
Wagon Train’s been rolling down a week,
hoof-beating, creak-wheeling
three miles per hour, over the summit,
down the long boulder-and-timber
western slope; a trail of history,
sun and scant shade; maybe not iced tea.
We’re waiting on camp chairs
in shade of ponderosa and incense cedar
edging main street. Waiting
for Wagon Train in a small crowd
of families with dogs and kids, chairs
and drinks—waiting by horse-time
for muffled thunder of Percheron hooves
on pavement and someone yelling
“here they come!” We’re ready,
with sunhats and poems to share while
we wait. A bottle of sun tea
and a stash of horse poems, ranch poems
of the land beneath us, poems
of Gold Rush and lumbering, high
Sierra rising to the east where
Wagon Train’s been rolling down a week,
hoof-beating, creak-wheeling
three miles per hour, over the summit,
down the long boulder-and-timber
western slope; a trail of history,
sun and scant shade; maybe not iced tea.
BEFORE HITCHUP
Old lady—long skirt,
pioneer bonnet, walker—
waits for help up steps,
wagon train passenger who
used to ride and cut and rope.
Horse eyes deep-gazing
at me, I recall the black
mare of my childhood.
Old lady—long skirt,
pioneer bonnet, walker—
waits for help up steps,
wagon train passenger who
used to ride and cut and rope.
Horse eyes deep-gazing
at me, I recall the black
mare of my childhood.
WILD WEST RE-ENACTMENT
We came early, now we’re one of the crowd,
mock shoot-outs loud with gun-
smoke, tall pines shadowing sun.
We’ve brought poems to read while we’re waiting
for clomping hoofbeats, the lead
hitch, a scout on buckskin steed
on the trail perhaps since dawn. Now they’re here—
a rousing cheer, wagons drawn
past us, away. Now they’re gone.
We came early, now we’re one of the crowd,
mock shoot-outs loud with gun-
smoke, tall pines shadowing sun.
We’ve brought poems to read while we’re waiting
for clomping hoofbeats, the lead
hitch, a scout on buckskin steed
on the trail perhaps since dawn. Now they’re here—
a rousing cheer, wagons drawn
past us, away. Now they’re gone.
LULU WITH PUPPY
on the Wagon Train
All the way over
summit down river-rover,
in the wagon bed
older than her years—
what of old pioneer fears,
ancient forest dread?
Did she dream at night
lonely trails, no end in sight,
no milk, daily bread?
This is here and now.
Maybe she’ll remember how
night was stars instead.
Crowd cheers, they’ve arrived!
Horses, teamsters all survived.
Puppy lifts his head.
on the Wagon Train
All the way over
summit down river-rover,
in the wagon bed
older than her years—
what of old pioneer fears,
ancient forest dread?
Did she dream at night
lonely trails, no end in sight,
no milk, daily bread?
This is here and now.
Maybe she’ll remember how
night was stars instead.
Crowd cheers, they’ve arrived!
Horses, teamsters all survived.
Puppy lifts his head.
ROCKS WATCHING
They were sleeping under quilted grasses, wild oats and fiddleneck’s golden tune that turns to tinder. Grasses dead by summer. Rocks sleeping among roots of the stunted oaks that survive this hillside. Do rocks sleep? They rise like groggy commuters on a weekday, surprising me with stone-heads I thought buried. What do rocks know about forever? Do they dream of butting against my trimmer-head as I mow dead grass, these rocks
limned by sun and moon,
metamorphic metaphor—
does such patience sleep?
They were sleeping under quilted grasses, wild oats and fiddleneck’s golden tune that turns to tinder. Grasses dead by summer. Rocks sleeping among roots of the stunted oaks that survive this hillside. Do rocks sleep? They rise like groggy commuters on a weekday, surprising me with stone-heads I thought buried. What do rocks know about forever? Do they dream of butting against my trimmer-head as I mow dead grass, these rocks
limned by sun and moon,
metamorphic metaphor—
does such patience sleep?
FOR WINGS
Trees conceal the babies who should
have graced your work. I can’t find a bit
of twig or dried grass in your pinup
boxes hung eyelevel to a human. I guess
the bluebirds, titmice, nuthatches
have no affection for lumbered walls
and ceiling. They miss the dark cavities
of trunk and limb looking out on sky.
Nestling childhood should breathe
among canopies of leaf, closer to angels.
Today’s LittleNip:
MIDNIGHT INJUNCTION
—Taylor Graham
Shut
the board-
game down clam-
tight. It’s worthless
as a quarter to the old sliver moon.
Moon filters thru oak boughs abandoned by
dream monsters. Map
its backside,
marker-
rocks.
_____________________
Thank you, Taylor Graham, for today’s spirited poetry! For more about the Highway 50 Association’s 72nd Anniversary Wagon Train Run that takes place every year in June, see www.hwy50wagontrain.com/.
Taylor has sent us some poetry in intriguing forms: a Word-Can Poem (“For Wings”); a Tetractys, our Fiddler’s Challenge last Friday (“Midnight Injunction”, which is also a Word-Can); a Lulu (“Lulu with Puppy”—see last Friday’s post for Carl Schwartz’s invention of the Lulu); a Boketto (“Before Hitchup”); an Englyn Penfyr (“Wild West Re-enactment”) and a Haibun (“Rocks Watching”).
Give yourself a treat and check out the latest issue of Sisyphus at sisyphuslitmag.org/. You’ll recognize a few names, like SnakePal Ellaraine Lockie, and Lucille Lang Day.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! 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, by golly! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for links to definitions of the forms used this week.)
Carl Schwartz says he “set out to compose a Tetractys, and then it evolved into a double, triple, and finally a quadruple Tetractys”:
MIDNIGHT INJUNCTION
—Taylor Graham
Shut
the board-
game down clam-
tight. It’s worthless
as a quarter to the old sliver moon.
Moon filters thru oak boughs abandoned by
dream monsters. Map
its backside,
marker-
rocks.
_____________________
Thank you, Taylor Graham, for today’s spirited poetry! For more about the Highway 50 Association’s 72nd Anniversary Wagon Train Run that takes place every year in June, see www.hwy50wagontrain.com/.
Taylor has sent us some poetry in intriguing forms: a Word-Can Poem (“For Wings”); a Tetractys, our Fiddler’s Challenge last Friday (“Midnight Injunction”, which is also a Word-Can); a Lulu (“Lulu with Puppy”—see last Friday’s post for Carl Schwartz’s invention of the Lulu); a Boketto (“Before Hitchup”); an Englyn Penfyr (“Wild West Re-enactment”) and a Haibun (“Rocks Watching”).
Give yourself a treat and check out the latest issue of Sisyphus at sisyphuslitmag.org/. You’ll recognize a few names, like SnakePal Ellaraine Lockie, and Lucille Lang Day.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! 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, by golly! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for links to definitions of the forms used this week.)
Carl Schwartz says he “set out to compose a Tetractys, and then it evolved into a double, triple, and finally a quadruple Tetractys”:
FETCH ME ONE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
those
oldies
but goodies
don’t fade away
somehow we remember our favorites
as if we had kept them in our pockets
along with coins
that jingle
singing
out
hear!
this one
we used to
sing all the words
at any odd time of the day or night
and those coins were also in our old car-
parking meter
“sing that song
again”
change
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
those
oldies
but goodies
don’t fade away
somehow we remember our favorites
as if we had kept them in our pockets
along with coins
that jingle
singing
out
hear!
this one
we used to
sing all the words
at any odd time of the day or night
and those coins were also in our old car-
parking meter
“sing that song
again”
change
Here is Carl’s first-letter Acrostic in response to Medusa’s current Seed of the Week (Taking the Plunge)—a new take on “Plunge”:
COMMON TOOL
—Caschwa
Another
plunge
loosens
unseen
muck
blocking
exit
route
securely
hallelujah!
effective
like
pretty
easy
remedy
__________________
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!
COMMON TOOL
—Caschwa
Another
plunge
loosens
unseen
muck
blocking
exit
route
securely
hallelujah!
effective
like
pretty
easy
remedy
__________________
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!
See what you can make of this week’s poetry form, and send it to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) This week's challenge:
Rhupunt: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rhupunt-poetic-form
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Acrostic: literarydevices.net/acrostic
•••Boketto (“Listen to the Light”):
poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com2016/05/11/inform-poets-boketto
•••Englyn Penfyr: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/englyn-penfyr-poetic-forms
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Lulu (by Carl Schwartz): 5-7-5 syllable format; rhyme scheme of aaf, bbf, ccf, ddf, eef
•••Rhupunt: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rhupunt-poetic-form
•••Tetractys: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/tetractys.html
•••Word-Can Poem: putting random words on slips of paper into a can, then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them.
____________________
—Medusa
Rhupunt: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rhupunt-poetic-form
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Acrostic: literarydevices.net/acrostic
•••Boketto (“Listen to the Light”):
poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com2016/05/11/inform-poets-boketto
•••Englyn Penfyr: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/englyn-penfyr-poetic-forms
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Lulu (by Carl Schwartz): 5-7-5 syllable format; rhyme scheme of aaf, bbf, ccf, ddf, eef
•••Rhupunt: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rhupunt-poetic-form
•••Tetractys: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/tetractys.html
•••Word-Can Poem: putting random words on slips of paper into a can, then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them.
____________________
—Medusa
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