—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
GARDENS
inspired by Elihu Burritt’s journeys
The man who rakes and hoes,
who plants seeds and saplings,
then pulls weeds while hoping
for a bountiful crop—
what more could he harvest?
What more could he harvest
than birdsong? Buntings perched
on his rake, goldfinches
waking him to sunlight,
psalms of each daily chore.
inspired by Elihu Burritt’s journeys
The man who rakes and hoes,
who plants seeds and saplings,
then pulls weeds while hoping
for a bountiful crop—
what more could he harvest?
What more could he harvest
than birdsong? Buntings perched
on his rake, goldfinches
waking him to sunlight,
psalms of each daily chore.
STREET MUSICIAN
Traffic grumbles and whines,
Passersby stop, or not.
If someone drops a coin
in his cup, he won’t nod—
he plays his violin.
He plays his violin
eyes closed. Fingers are small
birds flying to something
Bach. How could cold pavement
ever be his heart’s home?
Traffic grumbles and whines,
Passersby stop, or not.
If someone drops a coin
in his cup, he won’t nod—
he plays his violin.
He plays his violin
eyes closed. Fingers are small
birds flying to something
Bach. How could cold pavement
ever be his heart’s home?
RUCKSACK
on the barn-quilt trail
… a brisk
wind up-canyon. Orchards ripening to apple-
colors, spray of lavender by an oak-barrel
table above a vineyard.
Rucksack pattern painted on the wine
cellar, a quilt design storied from some-
where in Africa, ending up here. We’re all
wanderers.
The land grows like crazyquilt—
pumpkin-patch and pasture, harvest-shed,
a woodlot. Our land’s a comforter
stitched with roads and fences.
At edge of forest, Raven croaked a warning:
winter coming. He speaks
of transformations as we might talk
of quilts and poems, metaphor and symbol,
art made from scraps of living—
memory-remnants worked into patterns
to pass down generations. Raven’s words
are true; see how clouds converge,
darkening bright with storm.
We’ll gather up our wrappers,
scribblings that might become poems,
leftover words to take back down the hill,
and home; starters for an autumn song.
(prev. pub. on Medusa’s Kitchen)
on the barn-quilt trail
… a brisk
wind up-canyon. Orchards ripening to apple-
colors, spray of lavender by an oak-barrel
table above a vineyard.
Rucksack pattern painted on the wine
cellar, a quilt design storied from some-
where in Africa, ending up here. We’re all
wanderers.
The land grows like crazyquilt—
pumpkin-patch and pasture, harvest-shed,
a woodlot. Our land’s a comforter
stitched with roads and fences.
At edge of forest, Raven croaked a warning:
winter coming. He speaks
of transformations as we might talk
of quilts and poems, metaphor and symbol,
art made from scraps of living—
memory-remnants worked into patterns
to pass down generations. Raven’s words
are true; see how clouds converge,
darkening bright with storm.
We’ll gather up our wrappers,
scribblings that might become poems,
leftover words to take back down the hill,
and home; starters for an autumn song.
(prev. pub. on Medusa’s Kitchen)
SOL’S DAY OF THE DEAD
Last year, we came masked in our
distances, to the open-air farmer’s market
at fringe of town, to see the Miwok dancers—
regalia bright with feathers & fringe
moving to drums, colors of woven blankets
as red and yellow as local farm-grown
tomatoes, marigolds for Día de los Muertos
celebrating the dead in time of Covid.
Fado’s nostalgia shading grief
with mariachi—tradition gathering
drums and flutes, leathered feet stomping
the beat warming that last-year morning
masked like the end of October
becoming first-of-November sunup.
Last year, we came masked in our
distances, to the open-air farmer’s market
at fringe of town, to see the Miwok dancers—
regalia bright with feathers & fringe
moving to drums, colors of woven blankets
as red and yellow as local farm-grown
tomatoes, marigolds for Día de los Muertos
celebrating the dead in time of Covid.
Fado’s nostalgia shading grief
with mariachi—tradition gathering
drums and flutes, leathered feet stomping
the beat warming that last-year morning
masked like the end of October
becoming first-of-November sunup.
POETRY PLEIN AIR
The library was closed.
We sat in shade of the pavilion
reading lines transporting us to oceans
and beyond the sky, how words
sing of themselves
against each gossamer line of sense.
And then the advent
of the hedge trimmer, contrapuntal
progress along shrubs
and nameless brush edging the lawn,
a continuity of green
with rumble of machine,
adding depth and dimension
to our verse.
UNANSWERING
As if by magic the deer appeared beyond the window, gone
but for the memory-glimpse through sliding glass of doe with fawn.
Did I see them? Once a doe gave birth behind our house. So shy,
she ghosted our woods, her baby growing strength as time passed by.
And then mother and child slipped unnoticed through a gap in fence
to a world of hazard, twisting two-lane through the rural dense
and hungry. But what do I know with my bounded human sense?
Open my sliding door and walk dry stubble that once was lawn.
Ask the patient oaks, the drought-parched soil and the mute, clouded sky
withholding rain and answers. Ask again, a life’s journey hence.
As if by magic the deer appeared beyond the window, gone
but for the memory-glimpse through sliding glass of doe with fawn.
Did I see them? Once a doe gave birth behind our house. So shy,
she ghosted our woods, her baby growing strength as time passed by.
And then mother and child slipped unnoticed through a gap in fence
to a world of hazard, twisting two-lane through the rural dense
and hungry. But what do I know with my bounded human sense?
Open my sliding door and walk dry stubble that once was lawn.
Ask the patient oaks, the drought-parched soil and the mute, clouded sky
withholding rain and answers. Ask again, a life’s journey hence.
Today’s LittleNip:
“IN LOVING MEMORY”
old-town cemetery
Names chiseled in stone?
Lichen loves time and weather,
native rock recalls its land.
Is this a child’s grave?
Between two marble cherubs
lie the early fallen leaves.
__________________
Autumnal thanks to Taylor Graham for her seasonal songs this morning! Forms she has used include two Pirouettes (“Gardens”, “Street Musician”); a Word-Can Poem (“Poetry Plein Air”); a CinqTroisDecalLa Rhyme (“Unanswering”); and a Katauta ("In Loving Memory”).
•••Today (Friday, Oct. 22) from 7-8:30pm, El Gigante presents An Evening with Maceo Montoya plus open mic on Zoom at cccconfer.zoom.us/j/9348057923/. Host: Danny Romero. A Sac. City College program in collaboration with the Center on Race, Immigration and Social Justice at CSUS and Sacramento Poetry Alliance.
•••Next Tuesday (10/26), 7pm, in-person and online (note change of day): Sacramento Poetry Center presents Viola Spencer, Patrick Grizzell and Andru Defeye plus open mic to celebrate the 35th Sacramento Poetry Day. 35th & R Sts., Sac. This event is free but seating is limited. Attendance in-person requires a ticket (reservations). See sacramentopoetryday2021.brownpapertickets.com/.
Attend online in the usual way: us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Meeting ID: 763 873 3462/; password: r3trnofsdv/. To comply with Covid protocol standards (and to help protect immuno-compromised participants and audience), admission will require presentation of Covid Vaccine card, no-contact temperature taken at door, masks worn inside, and as much distance as possible kept in the theater.
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
“IN LOVING MEMORY”
old-town cemetery
Names chiseled in stone?
Lichen loves time and weather,
native rock recalls its land.
Is this a child’s grave?
Between two marble cherubs
lie the early fallen leaves.
__________________
Autumnal thanks to Taylor Graham for her seasonal songs this morning! Forms she has used include two Pirouettes (“Gardens”, “Street Musician”); a Word-Can Poem (“Poetry Plein Air”); a CinqTroisDecalLa Rhyme (“Unanswering”); and a Katauta ("In Loving Memory”).
•••Today (Friday, Oct. 22) from 7-8:30pm, El Gigante presents An Evening with Maceo Montoya plus open mic on Zoom at cccconfer.zoom.us/j/9348057923/. Host: Danny Romero. A Sac. City College program in collaboration with the Center on Race, Immigration and Social Justice at CSUS and Sacramento Poetry Alliance.
•••Next Tuesday (10/26), 7pm, in-person and online (note change of day): Sacramento Poetry Center presents Viola Spencer, Patrick Grizzell and Andru Defeye plus open mic to celebrate the 35th Sacramento Poetry Day. 35th & R Sts., Sac. This event is free but seating is limited. Attendance in-person requires a ticket (reservations). See sacramentopoetryday2021.brownpapertickets.com/.
Attend online in the usual way: us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Meeting ID: 763 873 3462/; password: r3trnofsdv/. To comply with Covid protocol standards (and to help protect immuno-compromised participants and audience), admission will require presentation of Covid Vaccine card, no-contact temperature taken at door, masks worn inside, and as much distance as possible kept in the theater.
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
Our Ekphrastic challenge last week was as follows:
And both Stephen Kingsnorth (our new SnakePal from Wales) and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz, our “old” SnakePal from Sacramento 😉 ) sent us interesting and skillful examples:
PEGASUS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wales
I’m timber shack, yet last awhile,
despite dementia, knocking door—
vascular the doctor says—
wiring not quite as should be—
a complement—old grammar term—
not just ready, modern world,
text speak, I-phone, media.
I do live in a cluttered place—
my space consumed, phrase busyness.
The pump of blood still tries to stir—
like the circles that I find—
lyrics recalled, songs of youth—
in those rust windmills of my mind.
Gathered words all jumbled up,
spinning like that turning wheel,
old fixtures, fitting my gone globe,
my branded skin, burned ownership,
a past that kids don’t recognise—
though want my things for e-bay sale.
There’s gulf between my manic own—
bright days we walked, calm, holding hands,
combing beach for stranded shells.
We spade-built dreams, our bucket list,
amongst sure stranded grain and grit,
where razors, cowries, starfish lay,
a paper fig from Eden’s soil,
doves, jingles, limpets holding fast,
and tellin, trivia of beach;
midst oyster beds, rock pools, fish fry,
and iridescent cultured pearls,
by spiney jewel box, angel wings.
Scallops of my pilgrimage,
hoarded memories packed in,
invading hordes of symbols, signs,
a highway route through life to now,
sixty-six, yet counting years.
Those scenes ring bells still, making sense
of childhood, middle, older age.
as aerial my overview;
though old war horse, my recall flies,
takes wing like hero, Pegasus—
or have my classics wandered off—
Icarus, maybe, flying close?
PEGASUS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wales
I’m timber shack, yet last awhile,
despite dementia, knocking door—
vascular the doctor says—
wiring not quite as should be—
a complement—old grammar term—
not just ready, modern world,
text speak, I-phone, media.
I do live in a cluttered place—
my space consumed, phrase busyness.
The pump of blood still tries to stir—
like the circles that I find—
lyrics recalled, songs of youth—
in those rust windmills of my mind.
Gathered words all jumbled up,
spinning like that turning wheel,
old fixtures, fitting my gone globe,
my branded skin, burned ownership,
a past that kids don’t recognise—
though want my things for e-bay sale.
There’s gulf between my manic own—
bright days we walked, calm, holding hands,
combing beach for stranded shells.
We spade-built dreams, our bucket list,
amongst sure stranded grain and grit,
where razors, cowries, starfish lay,
a paper fig from Eden’s soil,
doves, jingles, limpets holding fast,
and tellin, trivia of beach;
midst oyster beds, rock pools, fish fry,
and iridescent cultured pearls,
by spiney jewel box, angel wings.
Scallops of my pilgrimage,
hoarded memories packed in,
invading hordes of symbols, signs,
a highway route through life to now,
sixty-six, yet counting years.
Those scenes ring bells still, making sense
of childhood, middle, older age.
as aerial my overview;
though old war horse, my recall flies,
takes wing like hero, Pegasus—
or have my classics wandered off—
Icarus, maybe, flying close?
THE PAINTING UNDERNEATH
—Caschwa, Sacramento
it is hard to please everybody
but everybody here loves pizza
so I set out to get one of those
“everything” pizzas
then it turns out that one doesn’t eat meat
and another takes peppers off the list
and so on and so forth
so I narrowed it down to cheese and mushroom
and thought the order was good and ready
to place just like that, until
“it better not have any mold or fungus!”
so off go the cheese and mushroom
leaving just a crust and sauce
“get the gluten free crust”
that costs more, might be a deal breaker
too late, they’re closed
—Caschwa, Sacramento
it is hard to please everybody
but everybody here loves pizza
so I set out to get one of those
“everything” pizzas
then it turns out that one doesn’t eat meat
and another takes peppers off the list
and so on and so forth
so I narrowed it down to cheese and mushroom
and thought the order was good and ready
to place just like that, until
“it better not have any mold or fungus!”
so off go the cheese and mushroom
leaving just a crust and sauce
“get the gluten free crust”
that costs more, might be a deal breaker
too late, they’re closed
Caschwa spun two delightful Pirouettes (last Friday’s FFF challenge) for us:
DOWN THE WRONG PIPE
—Caschwa
talking while eating and
eating while talking sets
the stage for food and drink
to go down the wrong pipe
bent coins in a pay phone
bent coins in a pay phone
waiting for it to clear
looking like a big fool
spitting up nonsense
“please submit correct change”
DOWN THE WRONG PIPE
—Caschwa
talking while eating and
eating while talking sets
the stage for food and drink
to go down the wrong pipe
bent coins in a pay phone
bent coins in a pay phone
waiting for it to clear
looking like a big fool
spitting up nonsense
“please submit correct change”
HAVE TO VS. HAVE TO
—Caschwa
put an end to Hitler!
crush insurrectionists
and white supremacists!
give them all no quarter!
we have to do this now!
we have to do this now,
take a middle course and
calm things down to simmer
general approval
will serve us all the best
—Caschwa
put an end to Hitler!
crush insurrectionists
and white supremacists!
give them all no quarter!
we have to do this now!
we have to do this now,
take a middle course and
calm things down to simmer
general approval
will serve us all the best
He also sent us a third, saying “Here is another Pirouette, this one with a little rhyming thrown in just for fun”:
DANCE CRAZE
—Caschwa
dizzy will rule the dance
strange sensations visit
private parts of our pants
uh oh, what’s that feeling?
pirouette not by chance
pirouette not by chance
when we do that it leaves
empty space between us,
I, Mars and you, Venus
now we both are reeling
__________________
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 we have two challenges; trick-or-treat yourself to one or both:
•••Brevee: poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••Brazilian Haiku (Rhyming Haiku): poetscollective.org/poetryforms
And don’t forget our Ekphrastic challenge at the bottom of this post!
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Brazilian Haiku (Rhyming Haiku): poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••Brevee: poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••CinqTroisDecalLa Rhyme: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/cinrhyme.html
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Katauta: www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/katauta-poetic-form
•••Pirouette: poetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/04/pirouette-10-line-poem-with-6-syllables.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
DANCE CRAZE
—Caschwa
dizzy will rule the dance
strange sensations visit
private parts of our pants
uh oh, what’s that feeling?
pirouette not by chance
pirouette not by chance
when we do that it leaves
empty space between us,
I, Mars and you, Venus
now we both are reeling
__________________
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 we have two challenges; trick-or-treat yourself to one or both:
•••Brevee: poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••Brazilian Haiku (Rhyming Haiku): poetscollective.org/poetryforms
And don’t forget our Ekphrastic challenge at the bottom of this post!
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry forms mentioned today:
•••Brazilian Haiku (Rhyming Haiku): poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••Brevee: poetscollective.org/poetryforms
•••CinqTroisDecalLa Rhyme: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/cinrhyme.html
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Katauta: www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/katauta-poetic-form
•••Pirouette: poetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/04/pirouette-10-line-poem-with-6-syllables.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
Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
* * *
See what you can make of the above
Ekphrastic challenge, and send it to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
See what you can make of the above
Ekphrastic challenge, and send it to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
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.
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
