—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!!
WHO?
Just off-trail, this huge
black scat full of grape remains—
rain-washed contours blurred
who passed through to leave such sign,
an overwintering bear?
Just off-trail, this huge
black scat full of grape remains—
rain-washed contours blurred
who passed through to leave such sign,
an overwintering bear?
BETTER LUCK BELOW SNOWLINE
Two jolly wanderers ventured in their
city car, up into our winter woods
not expecting frost. They bore no votive
candles—just a brand-new gold pan, seeking
mountain treasure. Here at edge of twisty
county road they crouched for swirling gravel
washed down-mountain by our frigid creek. Long
before the fall of evening they were gone
to warmer climates, leaving muddy ruts
dug into gravel shoulder where they gunned
their car lest it be stuck in snowdrift soon.
Two jolly wanderers ventured in their
city car, up into our winter woods
not expecting frost. They bore no votive
candles—just a brand-new gold pan, seeking
mountain treasure. Here at edge of twisty
county road they crouched for swirling gravel
washed down-mountain by our frigid creek. Long
before the fall of evening they were gone
to warmer climates, leaving muddy ruts
dug into gravel shoulder where they gunned
their car lest it be stuck in snowdrift soon.
THOUSANDS OF YEARS
At the lookout point
over ridge upon ridge, light
fades. Dark takes the canyon
with its bedrock mortar.
Imagine grinding acorns to meal.
I served cornbread
with our evening meal—
foodstuffs bought routinely
at the store.
with our evening meal—
foodstuffs bought routinely
at the store.
And now I’m standing at the edge
looking as far as the eye
can see backwards, forwards
in place and time
till daylight’s wrung out of the sky.
My dark walk home.
looking as far as the eye
can see backwards, forwards
in place and time
till daylight’s wrung out of the sky.
My dark walk home.
THOSE OLD SONGS
We’re on the road to x-rays of your heel.
No radio. Loads of songs in your head.
We roll along, I prompt you—Mr. Moon.
It Was Wonderful Then. Stormy Weather?
No, not that one. But I’ll Be Seeing You.
Don’t Fence Me In, we’ve got a wide blue sky
and memories passing by. Uist Tramping Song,
the first you taught me. Singing along now
and then my voice breaks, I can’t form the words.
Old ache of time and landscape speeding by.
A house we sold, and moved away. That’s how
it flows, throngs of remembering. Those were
the days. September Song. We’ve left the hills,
we’re into Valley haze, moving along.
WORLD VIEW
She was sitting at computer solving
a jigsaw puzzle in spare moments when
suddenly her eyes went their separate
ways, fracturing to two adjacent views,
jigsaw’d pieces not clicking together
no matter how she angled her head, her
body vertical, horizontal, her
position in the universe. A world
not upside-down but nevertheless im-
possible. How could she walk, drive, or chop
onions? Compose a straightforward poem?
In those brief eternal moments, the most
important thing in the world was fitting
her two eyes back together into one
clear un-topsy-turvy single focus.
She was sitting at computer solving
a jigsaw puzzle in spare moments when
suddenly her eyes went their separate
ways, fracturing to two adjacent views,
jigsaw’d pieces not clicking together
no matter how she angled her head, her
body vertical, horizontal, her
position in the universe. A world
not upside-down but nevertheless im-
possible. How could she walk, drive, or chop
onions? Compose a straightforward poem?
In those brief eternal moments, the most
important thing in the world was fitting
her two eyes back together into one
clear un-topsy-turvy single focus.
DON’T ASK
You ask, what’s the most
important thing? How
to answer in brief?
The earth or the sky,
the waters flowing
with time passing by.
Heart beat and lung breath,
and the wind’s chill cry.
Oh, you want to know
things like home and love,
and absence of grief;
rich plantings that grow
abundant each year.
But things come and go
as grass greens to die
and the spring birds fly.
You ask, what’s the most
important thing? How
to answer in brief?
The earth or the sky,
the waters flowing
with time passing by.
Heart beat and lung breath,
and the wind’s chill cry.
Oh, you want to know
things like home and love,
and absence of grief;
rich plantings that grow
abundant each year.
But things come and go
as grass greens to die
and the spring birds fly.
Today’s LittleNip:
PRIORITIES
—Taylor Graham
All morning on phone
trying to find my way through
the bureaucracies
while just beyond my window
blue heron hunts for his life.
____________________
Another week wraps up today with poetry and photos from Taylor Graham (always a gift), followed by our Form Fiddlers celebrating another Form Fiddlers’ Friday. This week’s forms of Taylor's poems include some Normative Syllabics (“Better Luck Below Snowline”); a Word-Can Poem (“Thousands of Years”); a Waka (“Who?”); a Tanka (“Priorities”); a Lannet (“Those Old Songs”); an Octameter (“Don't Ask”); and some Blank Verse (“World View”).
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
PRIORITIES
—Taylor Graham
All morning on phone
trying to find my way through
the bureaucracies
while just beyond my window
blue heron hunts for his life.
____________________
Another week wraps up today with poetry and photos from Taylor Graham (always a gift), followed by our Form Fiddlers celebrating another Form Fiddlers’ Friday. This week’s forms of Taylor's poems include some Normative Syllabics (“Better Luck Below Snowline”); a Word-Can Poem (“Thousands of Years”); a Waka (“Who?”); a Tanka (“Priorities”); a Lannet (“Those Old Songs”); an Octameter (“Don't Ask”); and some Blank Verse (“World View”).
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
Last Friday, we had three challenges: the usual Ekphrastic, the Lannet, and the Octameter. This comfy easy chair was the Ekphrastic challenge, and both Stephen Kingsnorth and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) responded:
—Last week’s Ekphrastic challenge
ARMS AND THE MAN
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
This takes me, sedentary,
on journeys from this room;
perhaps I need a seatbelt,
when travel moves so fast.
I’m held by dear grandmother,
in well-upholstered frame;
her folds of love meant comfort
when I felt bruised, in pain.
I hear my first transistor,
as polka dots blare out,
indeed my rebel sister,
bikini not approved—
it was too itsy bitsy,
its yellow merged with frowns;
so many sad years later,
she’s shrunk, Alzheimer’s home.
So strong for ache complainers,
quite firmly put in place,
no space for those backsliders,
backstory taken care.
I’m glad there is no cushion—
competing art in place—
to undermine dignity,
its pattern, plush and poise.
I’ve heard of armchair critics—
their designs so disliked?
When a boy, they dressed in white,
antimacassar, hair.
In general, the name stained—
as tactics better claimed;
but then of war, arms, the man,
for Shaw, the message clear.
It would not store energy
to be ejector seat,
enclosed perhaps, body wedged,
too much behind I fear.
Chair exercises daily,
though mainly in my mind;
I prefer seats with wingbacks,
so angels transport me.
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
This takes me, sedentary,
on journeys from this room;
perhaps I need a seatbelt,
when travel moves so fast.
I’m held by dear grandmother,
in well-upholstered frame;
her folds of love meant comfort
when I felt bruised, in pain.
I hear my first transistor,
as polka dots blare out,
indeed my rebel sister,
bikini not approved—
it was too itsy bitsy,
its yellow merged with frowns;
so many sad years later,
she’s shrunk, Alzheimer’s home.
So strong for ache complainers,
quite firmly put in place,
no space for those backsliders,
backstory taken care.
I’m glad there is no cushion—
competing art in place—
to undermine dignity,
its pattern, plush and poise.
I’ve heard of armchair critics—
their designs so disliked?
When a boy, they dressed in white,
antimacassar, hair.
In general, the name stained—
as tactics better claimed;
but then of war, arms, the man,
for Shaw, the message clear.
It would not store energy
to be ejector seat,
enclosed perhaps, body wedged,
too much behind I fear.
Chair exercises daily,
though mainly in my mind;
I prefer seats with wingbacks,
so angels transport me.
Here is Caschwa’s cheeky response to The Chair, which he wrote in the form of a Lannet (another of our challenges last week):
HITHERTO AND HEREWITH
—Caschwa
be it now known, hitherto and herewith
you may gaze at and approach my big red
chair with your eyes ablaze in mystery
but keep your fat derrière clear away!
no crumbs, mind you, zero crumbs shall ever
descend from your overstuffed pockets and
disrupt the sheen of my newly polished
floor, so take your clutter rockets to the
movie house, dark and dank, they will come by
later and remove bark and shank, keen to
vacuum that filthy residue, shadow
that you always leave behind you, drop so
casually like a pack animal
pooping along the trail, not in my house!
Here are two more Lannets from Carl. Note the internal rhymes the form requires:
VLADIMIR FIGHTING GEAR
—Caschwa
who’s afraid of the big, bad banks with the
armored tanks and the Ivy League teams of
attorneys who will bring you to your knees
if you don’t do as they please, autocrats
running loose like rats on our ship of state?
heaps of money from Russian oligarchs
and German private investors, “convince”
duly elected, cardboard-role models
to incite vermin protestors to help
transform the very Capitol of our
Democratic experiment into
some cowboy saloon with the double doors
that swing both ways while punches are traded
and the piano man plays his heart out
IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW
—Caschwa
our nation of laws has undergone a
few important changes, it has broadened
the ranges of what is considered new
normal to include giving the middle
finger to laws, all of them, all the time
casually disregarding our codes,
statutes, cases, protocols, ordinance
the mode of the day will appear to be
fear me, not the law, it’s never my fault
you cannot insult a God-given king
driven to please his own higher power
the appropriate response is yes, sire
okay, now that we are on the same page,
ensconced in trifling pursuits, game over
—Caschwa
our nation of laws has undergone a
few important changes, it has broadened
the ranges of what is considered new
normal to include giving the middle
finger to laws, all of them, all the time
casually disregarding our codes,
statutes, cases, protocols, ordinance
the mode of the day will appear to be
fear me, not the law, it’s never my fault
you cannot insult a God-given king
driven to please his own higher power
the appropriate response is yes, sire
okay, now that we are on the same page,
ensconced in trifling pursuits, game over
And Carl also sent us two Octameters, the other challenge last week:
IMPRECISE MEASURES
—Caschwa
look around the room
dimensions cry out
proportional sway:
length and width and height
look out the window
same from day to night
fence tops, tree tops, sky
modified by light
an image is born
and etched on the brain
whatever we say
gets blown from the horn
statistics rule all
how high is the corn?
elephant or kite?
numbers locked up tight
FORGET NATION OF LAWS
—Caschwa
the true perspective
is seen through the lens
of a land at war
dire acts will prevail
like collateral
damage from a hail
of police gunfire
way too big to fail
military coup
intentional death
that’s how they keep score
what’s bothering you?
it’s not as if we’re
expecting Kung Fu
harsh truth may unveil
if suspects make bail
____________________
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!
____________________
—Caschwa
the true perspective
is seen through the lens
of a land at war
dire acts will prevail
like collateral
damage from a hail
of police gunfire
way too big to fail
military coup
intentional death
that’s how they keep score
what’s bothering you?
it’s not as if we’re
expecting Kung Fu
harsh truth may unveil
if suspects make bail
____________________
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!
•••Alliterisen: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alliterisen.html
If that gives you a headache, try your hand at this:
•••Triquatrain: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/triquatrain.html
See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one!
_____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Alliterisen: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alliterisen.html
•••Blank Verse: literarydevices.net/blank-verse AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-the-difference-between-blank-verse-and-free-verse#quiz-0
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Lannet (Sonnet Form): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/lannet-poetic-forms AND/OR www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lannet.html AND/OR poetscollective.org/everysonnet/lannet
•••List Poem: clpe.org.uk/poetryline/poeticforms/list-poem
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Octameter: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/octameter.html AND/OR poetscollective.org/poetryforms/octameter
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••Triquatrain: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/triquatrain.html
•••Waka: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/waka
•••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
Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
See what you can make of the above
See what you can make of the above
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
***
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
