—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz),
Stephen Kingsnorth, Joyce Odam,
and Claire J. Baker
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz),
Stephen Kingsnorth, Joyce Odam,
and Claire J. Baker
POEM ABOUT SUNFLOWERS
I’m to write about sunflowers.
How to cook up a poem
in this morning’s cold kitchen
without tinder or fancy’s spark?
No sunflowers blooming,
not along any of the roads
I’ve driven, trails I’ve walked—
not this year. Memory
is soon to be forgettery.
I’m to write about sunflowers.
How to cook up a poem
in this morning’s cold kitchen
without tinder or fancy’s spark?
No sunflowers blooming,
not along any of the roads
I’ve driven, trails I’ve walked—
not this year. Memory
is soon to be forgettery.
NO ICE CREAM CASTLES TODAY
Above our foothills
this morning’s clouds are cirrus
and lenticular—
weather maps: wind and moisture
white upon a sky-blue screen.
Above our foothills
this morning’s clouds are cirrus
and lenticular—
weather maps: wind and moisture
white upon a sky-blue screen.
TAKE A BIG EMPTY SACK
If I wanted a history of waste management—
what we do with our discard—
I could probably find on the internet
a treatise on the definition of trash and garbage
with a systemization of types of litter.
Before the first frost—in about 4 months—
I might have a true understanding
of the problem and its possible solutions
for an ever burgeoning population
of consumers worldwide.
But it’s time for the morning’s walk
with my dog. Today I think we’ll visit
some undeveloped fringes—that wooded
canyon across from the library—where I’m sure
I could scrounge enough of the real thing.
If I wanted a history of waste management—
what we do with our discard—
I could probably find on the internet
a treatise on the definition of trash and garbage
with a systemization of types of litter.
Before the first frost—in about 4 months—
I might have a true understanding
of the problem and its possible solutions
for an ever burgeoning population
of consumers worldwide.
But it’s time for the morning’s walk
with my dog. Today I think we’ll visit
some undeveloped fringes—that wooded
canyon across from the library—where I’m sure
I could scrounge enough of the real thing.
BACK TO BLACKBERRIES
They live unplanted, unnurtured, invasive
as a weed along roadsides and fences,
thorny—see the bloody scratches on my arms
from reaching for a ripe one, glossy soft
obsidian berry full of seeds, each one
could propagate a tribe. Here beyond the depot,
past the end of 2-lane walking & bike trail—
just a rough scratch of dirt-path between
dead-dry grasses and berry bramble, I stop
to pick one and then another. These
are mine. I’ve never seen walkers
on this stretch of trail, just an occasional cyclist
hurrying to come out on pavement some-
where. Hark! a voice pierces the silence—
here comes one now. I step aside into thorns
to let him pass. He won’t stop, he hasn’t
time. Berries take patience to enjoy nature’s
brief, finger-staining, bewitching sweet.
PHAINOPELA
Shiny black star on the tree-tip
along a paved road begging for
houses to be built—the bird sings
his territory, all he needs.
MONODY FOR AN EAGLE
Step softly to not disturb
the great golden bird brought
down to earth—feathers
shadowed red as rust—to lie
a broken chain of spine
cast aside at the lethal edge
freeway traffic unaware.
Eagle spirit freed to fly.
mountain high,
not bound by gravity
or body’s hunger,
soaring on wings of sky.
Step softly to not disturb
the great golden bird brought
down to earth—feathers
shadowed red as rust—to lie
a broken chain of spine
cast aside at the lethal edge
freeway traffic unaware.
Eagle spirit freed to fly.
mountain high,
not bound by gravity
or body’s hunger,
soaring on wings of sky.
Today’s LittleNip:
HOME WITH DOG & CAT
—Taylor Graham
So
quiet
here, I hear
words in creaking
of the closet door,
floorboards & window sills.
___________________
Thanks to Master Chef Taylor Graham for cooking us today’s fine banquet of poetry and photos! Forms she has sent include a Tanka (“No Ice Cream Castles Today”); a Ryūka (“Phainopepla”); a Word-Can Poem (“Take a Big Empty Sack”); some Stepping Stones (“Home with Dog & Cat”); a Quintilla (“Poem About Sunflowers”); and a Monody (“Monody for an Eagle”). The Monody was one of last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
Last week’s Seed of the Week was Sunflowers, but TG’s poem about them today bemoans what she considers to be their scarcity this year. Later, though, she wrote, “On my walk this morning it occurred to me my sunflowers (at least this year) are much smaller but blooming everywhere [in the form of] madia (tarweed). When we lived up the hill, it would bloom in August like a prophesy of fall, but down here in the foothills it's been blooming for weeks. Small but pretty when seen up-close in sun. I think I included a pic of one with a curly top [in this week's poems]. Here's one I got today, partly in shadow but prolific!” TG and I pronounced tarweed to be “dainty but tough”.
HOME WITH DOG & CAT
—Taylor Graham
So
quiet
here, I hear
words in creaking
of the closet door,
floorboards & window sills.
___________________
Thanks to Master Chef Taylor Graham for cooking us today’s fine banquet of poetry and photos! Forms she has sent include a Tanka (“No Ice Cream Castles Today”); a Ryūka (“Phainopepla”); a Word-Can Poem (“Take a Big Empty Sack”); some Stepping Stones (“Home with Dog & Cat”); a Quintilla (“Poem About Sunflowers”); and a Monody (“Monody for an Eagle”). The Monody was one of last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
Last week’s Seed of the Week was Sunflowers, but TG’s poem about them today bemoans what she considers to be their scarcity this year. Later, though, she wrote, “On my walk this morning it occurred to me my sunflowers (at least this year) are much smaller but blooming everywhere [in the form of] madia (tarweed). When we lived up the hill, it would bloom in August like a prophesy of fall, but down here in the foothills it's been blooming for weeks. Small but pretty when seen up-close in sun. I think I included a pic of one with a curly top [in this week's poems]. Here's one I got today, partly in shadow but prolific!” TG and I pronounced tarweed to be “dainty but tough”.
Madia (Tarweed)
—Photo by Taylor Graham
And if you’re wondering what Phainopela is, go to https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Phainopepla/id/.
Coming up next Thursday is one of the twice-monthly El Dorado County Library Poets and Writers Workshop, with Lara Gularte and Beverly Barayno, at the Cameron Park Library. For info about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area, click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
Coming up next Thursday is one of the twice-monthly El Dorado County Library Poets and Writers Workshop, with Lara Gularte and Beverly Barayno, at the Cameron Park Library. For info about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area, click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
For info about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook:
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
There’s also a 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!
* * *
Last Week’s Ekphrastic Photo
We received responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo of the odd cat from Nolcha Fox, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz), and Stephen Kingsnorth:
STANDOFF
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
Sue pouts and rolls her eyes, ignores her mom.
Mom beats against the air that will not budge.
Budge would mean defeat or compromise.
Compromise is not her DNA.
DNA is passed through Mom to Sue.
Sue pouts and rolls her eyes, ignores her mom.
* * *
POSTURE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
there are three figures here
one older
one wiser
one straighter,
with help of a vase
one colder
one a miser
one greater
with pink in the face
which is the bolder
to stand on a riser
and present its case?
* * *
FOREARMED
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
We’ve all been one, some maybe both,
the sulking young; the adult, loth
to recognise resentment shared—
frustration, anger, tension aired?
But sympathies, where do they lie?
What generation, ours nearby?
For was the mother never so?
Will teen, when adult, recall show?
I searched web use to check its guise,
and frequency did not surprise;
dramatic frame-up studio,
though patience tested, oh so slow.
So did the girl not have to act?
Frustration supercede the tact?
The hashtag pinned, image akin,
‘disobedience’, ‘discipline’;
the guarantee parenting means
a clash with independent teens.
It is the upward cast of eyes,
accompanied by heave of sighs;
the orchestration, apt, required,
with finger point response, as wired.
It’s indexed, other tips point back—
who’s giving, hint, too takes the flack;
as arms are crossed in sullen block—
it’s here, to fore, the key, unlock.
* * *
Here is a Decannelle from Joyce Odam. Yes, that's right—THE Joyce Odam who just turned 99 years young:
DECANNELLE FOR A LONG NIGHT
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
Can we ever listen softly?
Can we ever really hear?
When philosophy is lacking
what makes questions disappear?
When is water not a river?
What of rivers do we fear?
If the night is slow in passing
and the dawn comes none to soon—
what new currents will control us?
Let’s keep howling at the moon.
* * *
Claire Baker has sent us a picnic in the form of a Rubáiyát:
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
Can we ever listen softly?
Can we ever really hear?
When philosophy is lacking
what makes questions disappear?
When is water not a river?
What of rivers do we fear?
If the night is slow in passing
and the dawn comes none to soon—
what new currents will control us?
Let’s keep howling at the moon.
* * *
Claire Baker has sent us a picnic in the form of a Rubáiyát:
PICNIC ALONG THE RUBÁIYÁT
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
You grab the wine, I’ll pick up sour bread,
bananas, brie? My dear, we’ll be well-fed.
While sipping red, pausing to toast ourselves,
the bottle tips and paints the picnic spread!
So ends our tough-luck day. At home we play
O when the saints go marchin’ in, Ole!
A counselor has urged we lighten up.
Blasting the bass, we shout across the Bay…
Like gods, we climb on ladders made of air.
You’re clumsy, dear, while I use grace to spare.
But, when we reach a scary overview
I’m fully shaken. You? You’re debonair.
This week, in making love, at last we saw
we’re diamonds in a roughened stack of straw.
So, waxing bright and keeping facets shined
we give-in to groping, savoring, and awe.
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
You grab the wine, I’ll pick up sour bread,
bananas, brie? My dear, we’ll be well-fed.
While sipping red, pausing to toast ourselves,
the bottle tips and paints the picnic spread!
So ends our tough-luck day. At home we play
O when the saints go marchin’ in, Ole!
A counselor has urged we lighten up.
Blasting the bass, we shout across the Bay…
Like gods, we climb on ladders made of air.
You’re clumsy, dear, while I use grace to spare.
But, when we reach a scary overview
I’m fully shaken. You? You’re debonair.
This week, in making love, at last we saw
we’re diamonds in a roughened stack of straw.
So, waxing bright and keeping facets shined
we give-in to groping, savoring, and awe.
Watch for more of Claire’s poems in tomorrow’s Kitchen.
* * *
And here is an Ars Poetica from Stephen Kingsnorth:
TURNING LEAVES II
—Stephen Kingsnorth
My language heart thrums blood and guts,
the gore, well-ordered lung and pulse,
set drumbeats, breathing, ticking time,
a tinnitus of plaguing kind.
You hear it knocking at the door
but scribble quick before it’s gone.
But then I follow others’ course,
and find their spaces, lines and head,
a concentrated self-respect
excluding those unlabelled ‘I’.
Unless a joint is flexible,
tendons, ligaments adjoined,
then where do we find common ground,
both hearts and minds, old Siamese?
So if this ponder leaves you cold—
no wonder, if another fold—
forgive these questions, move along,
but leave some clue, some access point?
It’s ringing bells that sound alert,
a smoke alarm when weather’s cold,
that visual stimulus in thought,
a calming voice in troubled times;
provoking phrase, injustice stirred,
or tone that worries like a bone.
Through seasons, leaves from bud to blood,
and then a compost carpet, worms,
a rotten death, though springboard life.
And that’s what I expect of words.
___________________
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!
•••Gwawdodyn Byr: https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/gwawdodyn-byr-poetic-forms
•••AND/OR write a Decannelle, in response to today's by Joyce Odam:
•••Decannelle: darksideofthemoon583.com/2018/01/26/10-line-poem-challenge-15-decannelle/.
•••See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic photo.
•••And don’t forget each Tuesday’s Seed of the Week! This week it’s “Endurance”.
_________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Decannelle: darksideofthemoon583.com/2018/01/26/10-line-poem-challenge-15-decannelle
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Gwawdodyn: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/wd-poetic-form-challenge-gwawdodyn
•••Gwawdodyn Byr: https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/gwawdodyn-byr-poetic-forms
•••Monody: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/monody.html
•••Quintilla: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/quintilla-poetic-forms
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Stepping Stones (Claire J. Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (7, etc.)
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••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
•••Monody: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/monody.html
•••Quintilla: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/quintilla-poetic-forms
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Stepping Stones (Claire J. Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (7, etc.)
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••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!
Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
* * *
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
* * *
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
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.
should this, should that,
shame on me—
oh now,
don’t get all judgy…
don’t get all judgy…
