Arise, the Radio Said~

 

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,

Placerville, CA

—And then scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!

FLOTSAM

Nothing so shameful about the dream—
more a fool’s errand with no outcome—
but its mood persisted in sly whisper
as alarm struck eardrum. Arise, the radio
said. The dream soon sunk in depths
of black coffee, a few details appearing
wave-washed, unsummoned; a vague
unease found among the sands of day.
Breakfast salted with taste of sea-brine.

 

 

 

 

 

GONE WITHOUT A RATTLE

Among this spring green
I go weed-eating—
foxtails and wild oats,
and in the dry creek,
yellow monkeyflower,

mustard, sowthistle
among this spring green
that conceals roots, rocks
and sapling blue oaks—
save the baby oaks!

Webs of purple vetch
catch my trimmer-head
among this spring green
growing as I mow—
is this a fool’s job

or meditation?
Swinging my weed-whip
like a dance partner
among this spring green—
whoa! Diamonds sliding

through high grasses,
then disappearing
I don’t know where. Just
let it go its way
among this spring green.

 

 

 

 

SPRING EPHEMERA

In the boneyard behind the shed,
Bur Parsley and scraps of lumber,
Ripgut Brome, old roll of barbwire,
and Hillside Woodland Star.

 

 

 

 

 

POND TURTLE

I’m a turtle—Western Pond Turtle, to you humans. My formal name, Actinemys marmorata. Call me Westie or Marm. You’ve just spotted me from across the pond. My pond. I remember you, with your books and papers, catching insects of speech which you consume together, sitting in a circle on benches. You call it poetry. I’m a poet, but my art’s so natural, you hardly notice me. I heard you coming. Humans are so noisy. I climbed up on this muddy bank of dead-fall tules so you might see me.

smooth brown water—
turtle slips invisible
but for the ripples

 

 

 

 

 

RODEO

eroding gravel
driveway becomes a ravine—
nature takes over

she guns her old car
bronco-bucking up the hill—
nature takes over
the girl who drives like she once
rode horse in high school

 

 

 

 

 

BUG BOP

I’ve read that parasites—vital
to an ecosystem—are threatened
by climate change. Even ticks and fleas
have a purpose I can’t explain.
So much I don’t know about this world.
What secrets in my fenced five acres?

Just listen to the crickets.

At bedtime
my dogs go scouting
down the swale without a moon,
all the night a-buzz
with noise but no direction.
How to keep
my bearings in the dark?
What and how to understand?

Just listen to the crickets

telling temperature by the tempo
of their song—warnings,
longings without words.
They know and live our land
which is their own.
How much I’ve still to learn.

Just listen to the crickets.

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

FRIDAY FREE
—Taylor Graham

Set free from all constraint,
constraint of foot-hold, hand-hold,
hand holding just oneself,
oneself a solo ballet above the sea
sea rippling sunlight about to set.

_____________________

Spring threatens to move into summer up here at the feet of the Sierra Nevada range, and Taylor Graham continues to write about it (and show us photos of it) in fine style! Forms she has used today include last week’s Triple-F Challenge: the Bop (“Bug Bop”); the Hainka (“Rodeo”); a Haibun (“Pond Turtle”); a Word-Can Poem (“Flotsam”); a Daisy Chain that is also last week’s Ekphrastic Challenge (“Friday Free”); a Sliding Fiver (“Gone without a Rattle”); and a Ryūka (“Spring Ephemera”).

Don’t forget to check out our UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS link at the top of this column for what’s going on this weekend. Taylor Graham will be hosting the open mic up here in Placerville tomorrow.

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, there will be poems posted here from our readers using forms—either ones which were sent to 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 challenges—Whaddaya got to lose… ? If you send ‘em, I’ll post ‘em! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for resources and for links to poetry terms used in today’s post.)


There’s also a newly dusted-off page at the top of Medusa’s Kitchen called, “FORMS! OMG!!!” which expresses some of my (take ‘em or leave 'em) opinions about the use of forms in poetry writing, as well as listing some more resources to help you navigate through Form Quicksand. Got any more resources to add to our list? Send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com for the benefit of all man/woman/poetkind!

Joyce Odam has sent us a couple of unusual forms today, starting with the Tango (poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tango):


THE MOONLIGHT DANCERS
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

Moonlight dancers—outside in the dark—
with the surf pounding. They are young and mad,
and I am envious, and I would join them
and be a moonlight dancer, too—I am that sad.

Pounding of the surf—light of the moon—
an old temptation; I begin to sway.
They see me, laugh and beckon, open their arms,
I go to join their dancing, but where—where are they?

Just old moonlight dancing with shadows,
only the bright waves breaking on the shore,
and I—an old fool—dancing to no music,
caught in the veils of longing that those phantoms wore.

 

 

 

—Public Domain Illustration

 

Joyce’s second poem is a “Big Wah” ("honoring the men in your life") which she found on a Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas contest flier for 2000. I can’t find it on the Web (please let me know if you do), but here is the lay-out Joyce gives—fasten your seatbelts—with example words/lines pulled from her poem below:

6 lines, 6 syllables each line
6 action verbs (danced, played, followed, buttered, walked, lain)
6 strengths-purposes:

    1.    played the fool
    2.    danced the rule
    3.    followed their lead
    4.    buttered their ego
    5.    just walked in rain with me
    6.    with him I’ve lain


MY OLD RELATIONSHIPS
—Joyce Odam

I’ve danced and played the fool
for men who danced the rule;

I followed their brief lead—
buttered their ego-feed;

but one—just walked in rain
with me—with him, I’ve lain.

 

 

 

 Last Week’s Ekphrastic Challenge
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joe Nolan

 

Claire Baker has a poem for us today that is not only a Triolet, it also addresses Medusa’s Seed of the Week (First Flight) and, in a way, last week’s FFF Ekphrastic Challenge, too (see diver above. I hadn’t realized how interconnected the two challenges were; guess I had flight on my mind last week). Anyway, thank you, Claire:
 

A PRAYER FOR FLIGHTS
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

Before we fly, it helps to start
with wing or foot upraised,
and maybe glide before we dart.
Before we fly, a pause to start
apple-handed, sweet and tart.
Through phases we’re unfazed.
We dare to fly after we start
with wing or foot upraised.

* * *

Here is Stephen Kingsnorth’s response to the Ekphrastic diver. In England, diverse divers dive over Dover. (Or, if your prefer, they dove over Dover.)


WATCHING BRIEF
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth,
Wrexham, Wales, UK

Flipping on horizon line;
jutting strata overhang.
Is this a daring venture time,
or closing moment, end of life—
maybe these two but one, the same?
The well-worn clichés of the form—
its liquid gold of sunset sea—
fits ill with flicking body swirl,
beneath the waves in current swell
and flesh whirl diving into it.
They thrill at plunging into depths
while mine, cheap writing, keeping dry,
exploring depths and asking why.
And what of photo shot displayed,
Nusa Islands, Bali or Ha’i?
If late night read, travel brochure,
your dreaming screen may be of screams,
erupting jaws to snatch fish fly,
in ballet dance, tail arabesque,
that prancing skate but plankton dish?
What do we see or wish had scene?
How many angles, turning fold?
Freeze frame left hanging space and time—
would I be brine, sphere, rock or dive?
Or just content that age can watch?

* * *

Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) also wrote about the diver:

 

VITAL ORGAN   
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

room of clocks
lagoon of ducks
sounds of no meaning
chaparral fire cleaning

bottled water
hungry otter
an ocean glistening
no one is listening

ashes to ashes
dust to dust
we came from the sea
which is still part of me

 

* * *

 

The “Bop” was our Triple-F Challenge last week; Taylor Graham sent a Bop (see above), and here is one from Carl. Note Carl’s répéton (repeated line)—what a thought! “The sun is a flashlight, and we are the ushers. . .” If that’s so, we’d better get our usher act together:

 

 

—Public Domain Illustration

 
 

RED MOON   
—Caschwa

the lunacy of light at night
little tiny beads of apparitions
triggering all sorts of failed synapses
that leave us in total darkness
a construct, no a destruct
coming or going?

the sun is a flashlight, and we are the ushers

maybe the whole evening sky
is a cartoon sketch of the world
where that big black hole in space
marks a missing button on the vest
of a card shark who is trying to bluff
the other players into thinking he
might hold the winning hand, and so
more chips hit the table, more buttons pop

the sun is a flashlight, and we are the ushers

I fold, call me a taxi
the card shark tries to leave the table
but leaves a trail of buttons instead
his suit no longer vested
the game is now over
everyone lost everything

the sun is a flashlight, and we are the ushers

* * *

Our second Triple-F Challenge last week was the Sliding Fiver, sent to us by Claire Baker. Here is one from Carl:

 

 

 

 

CONTRACTUAL  
—Caschwa

safety, top concern
remodel old bath
rib injury site
they took measurements
offered proposals

replace older studs
safety, top concern
new materials
add a floating bench
get rid of old tub

very low threshold
durable grab bars
safety, top concern
move faucets around
closer to bather

we’ll be so happy
when it is all done
looks good in pictures
safety, top concern
such an improvement!

terms and conditions
initial and sign
on the dotted line
down payment due now
safety, top concern

* * *

Joe Nolan plays with sound today, no particular form:

 

 

 

 

 

THE RING-LEADER
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
 
The ring-leader
Rang the big, brass bell
Loud enough to shake the sky,
Enough to make buzzards
Crane their necks
And wonder why
Humans claimed the sky
As their own,
From down
Upon the ground,

But humans
Have been using sound
To enter heaven
Out loud!
Out loud!
Since who knows when?

* * *

For whom the bell tolls, Joe. And Stephen Kingsnorth sends an Ars Poetica that also plays with sound, reminding us to send “an offering to Calliope/where sparks ignite flames, fire of words”.

 

 

 

Calliope

—Public Domain Artwork

 

RHYME AND REASON
—Stephen Kingsnorth

A kingdom in a priceless pearl,
potential in a mustard seed,
infinity for poetry,
a time and space continuum.
By numbers, painting, not my style,
nor black outline to emphasise,
the portrait not a photograph,
unless the mood is captured, still.
A billion texts do not suffice,
poor studios, walls, galleries,
so brochure for the oeuvre range,
used tickets, book stacks, theatres.

More learned, seek answers, than propose,
react, respond to questions posed,
ekphrastic images for work
to delve into the artists’ lives
with gift and curse of mindfulness,
recalling all that passed this way.
My life or ours, for all are mine—
collective book of hours our prayer,
an offering to Calliope,
where sparks ignite flames, fire of words.
So look but see, hear, listen too,
find what is there, discover more.

* * *

Good advice, British SnakePal. Good advice. Many thanks to all 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 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 was sent to us by Joyce Odam:

•••Tango: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tango

Or, if you dare, try the other one that Joyce sent us, the Big Wah (see above). Here is the scheme for it:

6 lines, 6 syllables each
6 action verbs  
6 strengths-purposes

And see the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one.

______________________

MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:

•••Big Wah: 6 lines (6 syllables each), 6 action verbs, 6 strengths-purposes (Joyce Odam)
•••Bop: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-form-the-bop
•••Daisy Chain: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/daisy-chain
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Hainka: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/hainka-haiku-tanka-new-genre-of-poetic-form
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Sliding Fiver: 5 stanzas, 5 lines, 5 syllables per line. First line slides down a line 5 times, to become the last line. (Martha Bosworth, via Claire J. Baker)
•••Tango: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tango
•••Triolet: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/triolet-an-easy-way-to-write-8-lines-of-poetry
•••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


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
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

 

 

Snake + Turtle = Snurtle