—Poetry by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for Form Fiddlers' Friday!!
CALL IT STORK'S-BILL
This used to be sheep pasture.
What grows here now? My plant-app
says it’s Stork’s-bill but can't decide whether
Redstem or Mediterranean, names being essential
when one tries to identify what one holds sacred
or, let’s just say familiar—a friend.
We with our human need for words, for
classification.
I'm walking our stunted pasture, dwindled
by drought. Named or not, these plants
are survivors, doing what they can to green a field—
as Scrub Jay blues the sky, not to be confused
with Western Bluebird flashing its brilliant
cerulean. Is it nonsense to call them
sacred? not by names but by how beautifully
they fill a gap in the empty field that once
was pasture. Just let me walk
without words.
This used to be sheep pasture.
What grows here now? My plant-app
says it’s Stork’s-bill but can't decide whether
Redstem or Mediterranean, names being essential
when one tries to identify what one holds sacred
or, let’s just say familiar—a friend.
We with our human need for words, for
classification.
I'm walking our stunted pasture, dwindled
by drought. Named or not, these plants
are survivors, doing what they can to green a field—
as Scrub Jay blues the sky, not to be confused
with Western Bluebird flashing its brilliant
cerulean. Is it nonsense to call them
sacred? not by names but by how beautifully
they fill a gap in the empty field that once
was pasture. Just let me walk
without words.
AFTER THE TREMOR
Earth settled underfoot.
Was that just a warning shock?
A black sheen passed overhead on backswept
wings—starling.
Does a songbird even notice
what shakes the ground?
Some old poet might go on about
the sons of earth, how we tremble as if
called from “that eternal silence.”
Then something more passed over, soundless
on descent, to alight below our well-house—
great blue heron
following its natural hungers in a world
still spinning as the bird flies.
Earth settled underfoot.
Was that just a warning shock?
A black sheen passed overhead on backswept
wings—starling.
Does a songbird even notice
what shakes the ground?
Some old poet might go on about
the sons of earth, how we tremble as if
called from “that eternal silence.”
Then something more passed over, soundless
on descent, to alight below our well-house—
great blue heron
following its natural hungers in a world
still spinning as the bird flies.
HER SIGN
It’s just a poetry prompt, to chart the Muse’s
horoscope. What nonsense. I’ll type in
the Ides of March. What year? She says she’s
ageless. I look up date without year: Pisces
the Fish, ruled by Neptune.
Water’s crucial, though I’m no ocean-goer,
and I love aquamarine—or actually, turquoise.
It’s earthier, like water pooling
under falls of the creek that cuts a canyon—
dry country where you can’t survive
long without water. Now, daffodil, the Fish’s
flower, speaks rebirth, new beginnings.
But enough of this.
I’ll ask the Muse for a new poem,
something about living on the land with
so many weeds to mow, so many
poems left to write.
It’s just a poetry prompt, to chart the Muse’s
horoscope. What nonsense. I’ll type in
the Ides of March. What year? She says she’s
ageless. I look up date without year: Pisces
the Fish, ruled by Neptune.
Water’s crucial, though I’m no ocean-goer,
and I love aquamarine—or actually, turquoise.
It’s earthier, like water pooling
under falls of the creek that cuts a canyon—
dry country where you can’t survive
long without water. Now, daffodil, the Fish’s
flower, speaks rebirth, new beginnings.
But enough of this.
I’ll ask the Muse for a new poem,
something about living on the land with
so many weeds to mow, so many
poems left to write.
SHOPPING BAGS
Too much
stuff she carries
to touch
showers
of briefly bloomed
flowers
that call
from both sides of
the hall.
LOST WORDS NONSENSE
Is he fallaciloquent
or a phlyarologist?
speaking deceit or nonsense?
merely a blaterator
or simply a foppotee?
What the heck’s the gist of him?
CEREMONY PLEIN AIR
A featured speaker’s
upstaged by invisible
chitter of a bird.
Inchworm on my arm
on such a fresh spring morning—
here’s a leaf instead.
It’s nonsense to think
redwing blackbirds all around
are singing for me.
Today’s LittleNip:
NESTING
—Taylor Graham
No nest in sight today.
Nonsense! there’s moss and twigs.
Nest-building takes patience.
Notice busy Titmouse.
Now, nest crowned with dog hair.
Nine days later, six eggs.
Never doubt Nature’s plan.
_____________________
Tuesday’s recent Seed of the Week was “Nonsense”, a theme which is still spurring poems such as these from Taylor Graham—and our thanks to her for today's poems and photos! (And yes, we do have lots of tiny earthquakes.) My spell-checker loves all those crazy words.
Today’s forms from TG include Normative Syllabics (“Lost Words Nonsense”); a Word-Can Poem (“After the Tremor”); an Ars Poetica, one of our challenges last Friday (“Her Sign”); a Pleiades (“Nesting”); a Musette as well as Medusa's Ekphrastic, both challenges from last Friday (“Shopping Bags”); and a Haiku chain (“Ceremony Plein Air”). TG says that her “Lost Words Nonsense” is inspired by The Phrontistery (phrontistery.info/clw.html/).
NESTING
—Taylor Graham
No nest in sight today.
Nonsense! there’s moss and twigs.
Nest-building takes patience.
Notice busy Titmouse.
Now, nest crowned with dog hair.
Nine days later, six eggs.
Never doubt Nature’s plan.
_____________________
Tuesday’s recent Seed of the Week was “Nonsense”, a theme which is still spurring poems such as these from Taylor Graham—and our thanks to her for today's poems and photos! (And yes, we do have lots of tiny earthquakes.) My spell-checker loves all those crazy words.
Today’s forms from TG include Normative Syllabics (“Lost Words Nonsense”); a Word-Can Poem (“After the Tremor”); an Ars Poetica, one of our challenges last Friday (“Her Sign”); a Pleiades (“Nesting”); a Musette as well as Medusa's Ekphrastic, both challenges from last Friday (“Shopping Bags”); and a Haiku chain (“Ceremony Plein Air”). TG says that her “Lost Words Nonsense” is inspired by The Phrontistery (phrontistery.info/clw.html/).
•••Sat. (tomorrow, 4/9), 4pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance presents Zia Torabi and Bob Stanley at The Library of Musiclandria, 1219 S St., Sacramento, CA.
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
And now it’s time for . . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
This week, Stephen Kingsnorth responded to one of our challenges, the Ars Poetica, with this lovely poem:
CANVAS SCORE
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
My discipline, though poor declared,
is words, the symbol sound and sight
which paints the picture in the head,
and sings a song in body parts.
And if compartments are kept clean
then music, art is language keen.
Tell me more of both, for I need
lexicon to describe, maintain
an understanding to enhance
appreciation of what I
see and hear, without the paddles
awarding examination
marks. Bleeding, ebauche, gesso,
mahlstick rest, pochade and scumble;
I want beyond the vanishing
point, past phrased notation to see;
stave and clef, ambitus, flebile,
flat and sharp, medley lilt.
Each has its own vocabulary
but I just want to stare or hear
and value language, sight and sound.
* * *
Joe Nolan also responded to the Ars Poetica with a poem of his own:
TO A FAVORITE POET
—Joe Nolan
I disagree
With your line-breaks,
Your timing
And your rhymes.
I disagree with your feelings.
I rage against
Our times—
When light is bent,
Awkward,
By gravity,
Since space,
By objects,
Is curved.
I disagree
With all you write
And with every word,
But I recognize your
Brilliance,
Your genius,
Though absurd
And when I meet some
New-found friends,
I ask
If they’ve heard
Of you.
* * *
And here is another Ars Poetica, this one from Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), who says “this poem starts with a Musette, then transitions to a Trinet, and finishes with a Haiku”. Personally, I called it an “ars poetica morphus”. Morphosa?
ARS POETICA: THAT NEW POEM SMELL
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
showroom
straight on to your
stateroom
owe ‘em
big bucks for a
poem
great thing
if not for that
first ding
hot off
the press
editor rightly excludes all that stuff
that tortures our sensibilities too much
cannot claim
Constipational Rights
for stench
oh holy father
give me the strength to ignore
poorly written words
Last week’s Ekphrastic Challenge
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan
Here is Stephen’s response to last week’s Ekphrastic Challenge (see photo above):
BIZARRE
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Shadow next light by flower mart,
some city souk, bargain bazaar,
with cross-legged traders, counter sales,
sprawled as the cluttered warren maze;
where juxta stalls, hawked shoddy chintz,
with flies on sheepshead, goats on slab,
newspaper flaps to scatter gnats,
and icons, relics on the tills.
But still she waits by ancient steps,
a pilgrim, tourist, inside walls?
Does she wonder, what her next buy,
some bargain which she wandered by?
Or is she anxious for her date,
surrounded, as she is, by stalls?
Does she pretend, not care a fig,
when piles of fruit lie all around?
For I have walked such markets too,
best markups for the foreigners,
but just to buy the atmosphere,
though not found room to stand around,
for busyness mixed aims with lens,
contempt in eyes of photo set,
their wares displayed for mouths to feed—
no prophet from the stills back home.
Though ecumenical in scorn,
they know their world’s religious forms,
display their trinkets, with disdain
for faith based in facsimiles
not streaming flows of justice, right.
So is this woman, noontime, well—
perhaps her husbands queued at home,
her weighting in Samaria
for water, and the man who knew?
—Public Domain Photo
Caschwa says the next poem is “A response to the Ekphrastic Challenge [last Friday], which merges into a Musette on a tangential theme”:
SEARCHING
—Caschwa
shamelessly bare walls capture the
full sun as Master Sergeant Ernest
G. Bilko fumbles with a smart phone
that endlessly mocks him
while his offspring, Amdor, answers
the call of shaded growths by carrying
2 separate bags of hormones to explore
the complexity and multidimensional
nature of sexual identity development
***
hello
I’m a wall that’s
hollow
replete
with reinforced
concrete
daring
tests to prove load
bearing
SEARCHING
—Caschwa
shamelessly bare walls capture the
full sun as Master Sergeant Ernest
G. Bilko fumbles with a smart phone
that endlessly mocks him
while his offspring, Amdor, answers
the call of shaded growths by carrying
2 separate bags of hormones to explore
the complexity and multidimensional
nature of sexual identity development
***
hello
I’m a wall that’s
hollow
replete
with reinforced
concrete
daring
tests to prove load
bearing
Finally, Carl has sent us a List poem:
GOD’S ALGORITHM
—Caschwa
(God's algorithm is a notion that popularly refers to any algorithm which produces a solution having the fewest possible moves, paired with the belief that such knowledge must have come from God)
it manifests itself in the following forms:
· get rich quick schemes
· gratuitous sex
· no frills “Vegas” marriage and/or divorce
· instant coffee
· dictatorship
· don the cape to have super powers
· remote controls
· cheating to pass exams or win contests
· killing the opposition
· unilateral contracts
· destroying evidence
· too big to fail
· TV dinners
· park where handy, ignoring restrictions
· five finger discount
· share wealth with authority to win favors
· cut in line
· etcetera, etcetera…
______________________
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!
______________________
TRIPLE-F CHALLENGES!
•••Pastoral Poetry: poets.org/glossary/pastoral AND/OR 4thstcog.com/theology/what-are-the-characteristics-of-pastoral-poetry.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-pastoral-poem-learn-about-the-conventions-and-history-of-pastoral-poems-with-examples/.
•••See the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one. And Tuesday’s Seed of the Week was Courtship; tell us what you think about that.
•••And keep writing those Ars Poetica poems (www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica), as we celebrate National Poetry Month throughout April!
_______________________
RESOURCE OF THE WEEK:
•••Poets&Writers: The Time is Now (scroll down for weekly writing prompts; you can even have them sent to your email): www.pw.org/writing-prompts-exercises?gclid=Cj0KCQjwl7qSBhD-ARIsACvV1X0UKf8PlC4upySlQkBgQJ9pYuZu5FrKJ-lterQL9DC8PyY7kjD3taMaAqtwEALw_wcB/.
_______________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Eclogue (Ecologue): A short pastoral poem is called an Eclogue (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eclogue).
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••List Poem: clpe.org.uk/poetryline/poeticforms/list-poem
•••Musette: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/musette.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Pastoral Poetry: poets.org/glossary/pastoral AND/OR 4thstcog.com/theology/what-are-the-characteristics-of-pastoral-poetry.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-pastoral-poem-learn-about-the-conventions-and-history-of-pastoral-poems-with-examples/. A short pastoral poem is called an Eclogue (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eclogue).
•••Pleiades: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/pleiades.html
•••Trinet: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/trinet-poetic-forms
•••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
—Public Domain Photo
See what you can make of the above
photo, and send your poetic results 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.
