Monday, August 25, 2025

Go Nuts For Acorns!

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

* * *

—Poetry by Claire J. Baker, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa, Joe Nolan, and Nolcha Fox
—Original Artwork by Shirley Smothers
—Public Domain Visuals Courtesy
of Stephen Kingsnorth, and Medusa
 
 
FIRST ACORNS
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

They wear a crusted beanie cap
that only healthy oaks can make.
We walk the oak-tree trail, enrapt:
they wear a rugged beanie cap,
even when they take a nap
that all of nature needs to take.
Ah, that snuggy beanie cap
that only healthy oaks can make. 
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth


SANCTUARY
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Sow—are we back to chicken, egg—
as what’s first, seed, or by whom laid?
Or more prosaic, seasonal?
Is teleology implied,
or stores grown, as by squirrels sown
that offspring’s borne both bark and bite?

The acorn stands for English oak,
as native rodent, being red;
though grey more common, dominant,
invasive species from the States,
and now the subject of a cull—
a project with widespread support.

As dusty kicks search conker streets,
we stoop to conquer foreign rats,
those bushy-tailed that fancy selves
as smugglers on a pirate ship.
Forgetting horde they buried last,
yet want more, bury future’s gold.

Beneath brass laid meridian
set tarmac of Observatory—
the strip at zero, me astride
(a Time Lord, then but Dr Who)—
as boy I did it, Greenwich Park,
still, fed those bead-eyed greys by hand.

Before the urban fox arrived
in London streets of neon lights,
I crouched, Mean Time, a spellbound child;
what titbits I do not recall—
confection, not an acorn, sure,
for fall fruit would not fool my mark.

This symbol speaks, the nation’s trust,
set way of life, our calling holm,
fixed, sessile, part of British plot
so deeply rooted in our soil;
a people knowing well their place,
but welcome abroad refugees.
 
 
 
 No acorns here~
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


MISSED OUT
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

We lived in a suburb of Los Angeles
where we didn’t have a first acorn
we had palm trees, a peach tree, a
grapefruit tree, a Chinese Elm, but
no oaks.

We didn’t have snow, either,
except a barely measurable
speck on rare occasions

And I learned later that some
of us had never seen the ocean

We had movie companies, car
dealers, coffee shops, cemeteries,
libraries, rental yards, and places
or worship

I don’t believe I have ever held
an acorn in my hand, or felt one
underfoot

went on backpacking excursions
where I probably encountered one
or another oak tree, but the recognition
was not there, so no kiss-and-tell
experience 
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


ALWAYS RESETTING THE CLOCKS
—Caschwa

That foul smell in the air is not me. No way.
I bought a very special bar of bath soap that
offers the fortunate owner a medusal veil of
immunity, so don’t look my way, wasn’t me.
I’m covered.

A duende, with only 4 fingers and no thumb
could easily blend in with a fine orchestra,
sitting in the back row playing tuba and
counting rests, and counting rests…

During the daytime I was very busy getting
lots of stuff done. Now that night has fallen,
“The Dues of Night Arise” using all its powers
of multiplication to convey an infinitely long
scroll listing the tasks that were left undone,
revealing an exponentially large gap in today’s
To Do List.

***

My Dad used to drive our family to visit cousins
who lived in Long Beach. Once there, we’d
walk a few blocks over to the Colorado Lagoon
to take a dip and cool off, come back to the
house and enjoy a round of Flying Saucers for
dinner.

On one occasion we decided to go to the Pike
and ride its wooden roller coaster. I was a child
of diminutive size and my cousin an adult of
much larger proportions. We were both properly
strapped in and the fun began. Motion up, down,
sideways, and visions of the ocean blue which
was considerably greater depth and stronger
currents than found at the Lagoon.

After getting moved in all directions we finally
rode straight ahead and ascended the last peak,
until we could see our awesome future: the car
was going to drop downhill, gain speed, and come
to a sharp turn! Terrible scenarios danced in
our heads, remembering news accounts of
motor vehicles going too fast to negotiate a
turn, or aircraft veering off-course, which
resulted in gruesome outcomes. But here,
our coaster car gradually slowed until we
could hear the structure of the roller coaster
moan as if stressed, as we successfully made
a safe turn, then stopped and exited. Been
there, done that. Not a repeater. 
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


PROTECTED
—Caschwa

I have teeth missing,
so “Don’t eat with your mouth full”
doesn’t work on me.
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
 

WORDS THAT BIND
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

Super Glue, of all
things, is Trademark protected
Ya’ think that will stick? 
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


GAMES TRILOGY
—Caschwa

(Growing up in a movie town, I saw
endless stretch limos driving around
local streets)


 
        I. The Piñata Game

The target was sweet treats
bagged and hung from a tree
contestants were blind-folded,
handed a stick and set free

some lucky young one
would release all the treats
and everyone would celebrate
indulging on the eats

        II. The Limo Game

Try and spot the celebrity
through a window with dark tint
parades of limos, lots of chances
windows closed, not one hint

sometimes a fanatic
would posit who it was
and the power of suggestion
would set the crowd abuzz

        III. The Combination

Kids of all ages
blinded by star lust
thankfully no sticks
for windows to bust

the limo could be empty
just the driver and thin air
imagination filled the void
your favorite star was sitting there
 
 
 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa
 
 
STILL MINE?
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

It’s all right.
It’s just a major
Issue in the night—

How love is
Left in blight
And you are not
Here with me
Through the night.

Slumber leaves its message,
Gray, then somewhat bright,
As dreams
Course their realm of time
And every overnight is
Calling,

“Please!
I need you,
But not
All the time.

I’ll call you
And tell you
And see
If you’re still mine.”
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


TRANSPARENT ICING
—Joe Nolan

Transparent
Is the icing on the cake.

Most of us don’t see it,
We think there’s only cake,
But the sweetness of the icing
Is what makes the cake
So delicious!

We keep coming back for more,
But fail to understand
Just why.

It’s because of things
We cannot see
But taste.
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


EXPLODING PAGERS
—Joe Nolan

A world of grave
Ambivalence,
Painted in
Various shades of gray,
Slumbers in Jerusalem
Within a veil of hate,
That sends exploding pagers
Into Lebanon,
To blow the faces
Off those
Who respond.

How did we get here?
Tiny bombs
In pagers,
Like exploding cigars
The CIA sent
Into Cuba
To kill Castro
To kill his Communist ass? 
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa


FLOWER TO TREE
—Joe Nolan

What a flower
Says unto a tree, is,
“Dancing in
Kabuki majesty,
Internally,
May set you free,
If you can let go
Of roots
In all the ways
You used to know
Or thought you, so.”

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

TIME FOR A WARDROBE CHANGE
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

First acorn falls and tips its hat
When fall is in the air.
A kind reminder that it’s time
to get our sweaters out.

____________________

Don’t go nuts over acorns, our Seed of the Week (“The First Acorn”), even if they
are starting to appear here and there! Many thanks to today’s contributors, some of whom did write about the seed of the mighty oak.

The fine artwork you see down below is from Newcomer Shirley Smothers of San Antonio, TX. Shirley says she is an amateur Artist, Writer and Poet who mostly writes short stories, some of which can be viewed at Shirleysmothersf@storystar.com/. Last year, Shirley self-published her second book, which can be found at ShirleysmothersSolasta@pothi.com/, and she was named Artist of the Month, June 2025, for
Glomag submissions, Facebook. Welcome to the Kitchen, Shirley, and don’t be a stranger!

____________________
 
—Medusa
 
 
 
 Medusa
—Original Art by Shirley Smothers
of San Antonio, TX




















 
 
 
 
 
A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Center
remains closed thru August.
For info about
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
 


 








 













Sunday, August 24, 2025

Who is Guarding the White Rhino?

 —Tan-Renga by Jerome Bergland, 
Minneapolis, MN (Italicx), and
Christina Chin, Malaysia
(Plain Text)

—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Medusa
 
 
stirring in
a dollop
of sour cream

clouds swirl in a porcelain sky
the spoon stops
 
 
 

 
3am sleep
through the rumble
of freight train

second notification
printed in red
 
 
 

 
a practiced motion
sliding
into pockets

caught by surveillance
cameras 
 
 
 

 
while receiving
massage he puffs
the hookah 

ash grows longer
the smoke curls
 
 
 

 
killer whale
is the yacht
to a seal

view from the moon
just two ripples
 
 
 

 
give it up for
the next
contestant

spotlight shrinks
to a drying sweat 
 
 
 
 

who's guarding
the white
rhino

dust to dust—
the savannah holds its breath

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Life is not a solo act. It's a huge collaboration, and we all need to assemble around us the people who care about us and support us in times of strife.

—Tim Gunn

__________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Christina Chin and Jerome Bergland for today’s fine Tan-renga! For more about the Tan-renga, go to https://www.graceguts.com/essays/an-introduction-to-tan-renga/.
 
 
 
 The spoon stops…






 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For info about
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
 
 LittleSnake’s African pals~
Who is guarding the white rhino?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 













 

Saturday, August 23, 2025

Rust Rose Rain

 —Poetry by Sarah Mahina Calvello,
San Francisco, California
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
 
 
Walking up late
Espresso by the sea
A good day ahead

* * *

Couch sleeping
Buying costly coffee
Fire maples
 
 
 
 
 
Feisty Bluejay
Cornflower free sky
Saving moments

* * *

Daydreaming
Watercolor memories
Hopeful blossoms 
 
 
 

 
Wild blue sky
Try not to unravel
Soft candlelight

* * *

Afternoon sun
Feeling like a tilted world
Tequila
 
 
 


Through it all
Tomato sandwiches
Let me go back

* * *

Moonlight Shores
The possibilities
To open up to
 
 
 
 
 
No more hiding
A shift in my paradigm
Dust begins to clear

* * *

Second chances
Rust rose rain
A story to tell

_____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with.

—Thomas Carlyle

_____________________

—Medusa, with another fine presentation of poems by Sarah Mahina Calvello. See last Saturday’s post at https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/08/a-little-more-time.html/ for more of Sarah’s lovely work.
 
 
 
 Sarah Mahina Calvello










 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A reminder that
Moira Magneson will read
today in Berkeley with other
Sixteen Rivers Press poets, 3pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
 
A little rusty rose rain
would be great right now!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 










 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, August 22, 2025

Mushrooms in August!

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Joe Nolan, and Caschwa
 
 
MUSHROOMS IN AUGUST

It’s the wrong season
for florally headdressed gents and ladies
in bygone bonnetries and cavalier chapeaux.
And yet, here’s one lying on the fair-
grounds lawn, felled it seems, but
apparently alive. A fungus, in its
questionable state of scientific classification.
Flora or fauna?
This one is simple, white-capped,
no frills. But in a dry month it gives us
hope for fungi futures, as mosses and lichens
hold fast to our trees—some of them
already dreaming of dropping their leaves.
 
 
 

 
DANCE WITH PADLOCK

I line up numbers till they’re right
and can’t imagine what went wrong.
The lock should open like a song.
Instead it stays shut brassy-tight.
I line up numbers till they’re right

for dancing with a summer’s throng
of bees and birds. I’d step along
if just this lock would see the light.
I line up numbers till they’re right.

Dead silence is the loser’s gong.
This ornery lock is stubborn-strong.
If I could I bust it with sheer might—
I line up numbers till they’re right... 
 
 
 

 
PARALLEL LINES

A steep hill separates me from neighbors
I’ve never met, who moved here a year ago.
A buried water line has sprung a leak
bringing us all together over a problem.
 
 
 

 
FRUITS OF THE TRAIL

Beside the trestle we begin our August walk
by a wall of bramble, berries ripe, plump and juicy.
As my dog chews tips of marsh-grass, I pick
blackberries. Ambrosia! If I stayed here snacking,
would I become a Greek spirit of the clouds?
We move on, away from RR track, a dirt path
edged with berry-tangle and summer’s dead
sticker-weeds. What’s this? an empty can
of sliced peaches in light syrup. This is no place
for a picnic. We move on, thankful for shade
of oaks. On rising ground, the berries
are tiny but sweet. A fringe of wild plum trees—
pale-gold fruit too high to pick, and a single
fallen plum. Bramble presses against
the path and plumps its berries. I can’t resist
as August can’t last forever—Otis
is bored with just standing still
and my fingers red-stained with sweet.
 
 
 

 
TO WHOEVER BOUGHT & LOST IT

Vanilla sheet cake tumbles from its box,
landing face-down on gravel. There’s precious
little you can do to resurrect it
for your mid-afternoon get-together.
So you leave it where it lies, for the birds
if they’re on a sugar diet. Walking
my dog around strip-mall fringes, I work
on “leave it!” Otis is a snacking fiend—
crumbs & chicken bones—& here’s ambrosia
lying on the ground. Excellent training
opportunity! Will he go berserk
for cake with icing & sprinkles? Can I
be confident that leash this handler’s words
will get the better of my dog’s desire?
“Leave it!” And he stops, turns & looks at me.
 
 
 


OTIS NEEDS A DOG FRIEND

At
the
rescue
place we meet
Belle, Freya, Indy.
Who will be Otis’s partner?
Shy little Indy is race-car
red, a lady who
can keep him
chasing
for-
ev-
er.

_______________

Today’s LittleNip:

OFF RED HAWK PARKWAY
—Taylor Graham

    Golden Shovel on a line by Stuart Kestenbaum

Hawk soars above the cars
eastbound, westbound on
rising and falling arcs, different
trajectories, speeds—above paths
the natives trod centuries ago, the
ways of red sunrise and sunset to dark.

________________

Shrooms in August! Otis needs a dog friend! Wasted cake! Snarky lock! And a leak up the hill! Taylor Graham has had an eventful week, and many thanks from us to her for writing about it, as the hunt for an Otis-pal goes on.

Forms TG has used this week include some Blank Verse (“To Whoever Bought & Lost It”); a Golden Shovel (“Off Red Hawk Parkway”); a Response Poem to a previous Medusa's Kitchen Ekphrastic photo (“Mushrooms in August”); a Bell Curve Fib (a Fib with a reverse Fib under it—“Otis Needs a Dog Friend”); a Jueju (“Parallel Lines”); and a Dansa (“Dance with Padlock”), as well as a couple of Responses to our current Tuesday Seed of the Week, Ambrosia (“Fruits of the Trail” and “To Whoever Bought & Lost It”). The Dansa and the Fib were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.

The Jueju (https://poetsonline.org/prompt.html) is a Chinese poem of four lines. The description says, “The first line contains the initial phrase; the second line, the continuation of that phrase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one, but the fourth line brings the first three lines together.”

El Dorado County poets will be here there and everywhere this week! If you’re in Berkeley on Saturday, El Dorado County Poet Laureate Moira Magneson will read with other Sixteen Rivers Press poets, 3pm. Then Poet Laureate Emeritus Lara Gularte will present a workshop in El Dorado Hills on Thursday, 5:30pm. And the Thursdays at Two Poetry Group (with Taylor Graham) will have a reading in Georgetown on Friday, 5pm. Plus, info about El Dorado Country’s regular workshops is listed on Medusa’s calendar (if you scroll down on http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html/). For more news about such events and about EDC poetry—past (photos!) and future—see Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado Poetry on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry. Or see Lara Gularte’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/. And you can always click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html). Poetry is Gold in El Dorado County!  

 
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.)


Check out our recently-refurbed 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 and other ways of poetry. 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


Poets who sent responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo were Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth, and Joe Nolan:



WHAT’S HIDING IN THE PIPES?
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

The bathtub water wouldn’t drain,
so we called Plumber Joe.
He said the pipes were far
too small to handle such a flow.
We filed out, we knew that Joe
preferred to work in private.
Suddenly, he screamed and ran
in front of a huge wave
that carried sharks and polar bears,
some penguins, and a whale.
We applauded as the wave
got hold of Plumber Joe.
Water now flows freely,
and he didn’t leave a bill. 
 
 
 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Stephen Kingsnorth


POLAR BARE
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

A puzzle, as this mass of fur
can swim and swirl, curl through freeze flow,
a bullish bear with paddle claws.
trapped bubbles raising in that twirl.
Soon polar bare, without a float,
floe ice needs check before dissolves.

Aerated lift through aqua blue,
a tinted hint of hunting whale
as flyby flesh, fresh living dead,
beluga, bearded seal, nest eggs -
some kelp side salad in the mix
for opportunist, well fed swell.

Though packed lunch melting, deepfreeze seep,
to cap it all with warming thaw;
reminded of that childhood sweet
four Peppy paws, precarious,
confused, as lad, by bear and fox,
so searching Aesop, fable there?

So slow go slide, slice under tongue,
mint burn, brand Fox’s, glacier,
was lumpen shape, long sucking chance,
the sort forgotten, pocket dust,
more, lining lost, loose exit stitch,
that gooey paste, held twist-wrap face.

A north pole logo, berg afloat,
best held in check as cheeky bump,
until so little, tongue-search slick,
then nowhere, nothing to be found;
’twas soon I took another, gum,
but clear that pack would soon be gone.

Translucent block, boiled treat, absurd,
a sign of contradiction, stored
in greaseproof, quarter pound, weighed out.
To Dad, a beacon, hilltop sign,
bright flame, dementia’s rambling land,
that pepper flood of hot ice, fire.

* * *

GREETINGS FROM A POLAR BEAR
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
 
Fancy meeting you here,
You beautiful seal!
 
If I have my way
You'll soon be my next meal.   

* * *

Joe and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) have sent Ars Poeticae today:
 
 

 
MUSES ONLY WHISPER
—Joe Nolan

How many poems
Have I thought to write,
Delayed
And forgot the lead-in lines?

Muses only whisper.
If you delay, you deny.

Come again, another time?
You’d better try
Harder than that
To get whispers into writing
Before they float away.   

* * *

I WILL SEND YOU A MASTERPIECE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

It will take shape slowly
first I need to draw from the infinite
wisdom of everyone who is smarter
than I am, digest as best I can, and
and then manufacture happiness by
throwing old ideas, old drafts, old
too-good-to-be-true promotions,
and amazing skunk odor lotions into
the proverbial dumpster, whether it
takes the form of a metal bin or a fire
pit, or deleted text, or if the statute of
limitations has expired.

(No skunks were harmed in the
creation of this message)

* * *

Here is a First Word,/First Letter Acrostic poem from Carl:
 
 


 STEADY ME
—Caschwa

Very distorted
Erratic visions of
Rapid paced
Turning around
Inside a calibrated
Gyroscopic balanced
Orbit

* * *

This is a Found Poem from Carl:
 
 

 
TOO MUCH, TOO SOON
—Caschwa

(In the US, final exams are typically given starting in middle school (grades 6-8) and continue through high school (grades 9-12). While the exact grade levels and subjects may vary by district, core academic subjects like math, science, English, and social studies often have final exams.)


Today, we have jumped ever so quickly
from dreamy stories told by cute elves
to life-death active shooter drills for kids
who cannot cross the street by themselves.

these are clearly final exams, no
matter what their shape or form,
money is the most important of all
so we mustn’t cross the norm

Sandy Hook, Uvalde, were lessons
that the sale of guns and ammunition
were more important than safety itself
revenue streams: the highest tradition

keep that money going to Congress
we’ve given them our final orders
sales of guns must go on unabated
no matter whom we let cross our borders

* * *

And Carl has created a new form, which he is calling an “Imagine That”. Here are the bones of the form:

aabbb
ccdddd
eefffff
gghhhhhh
 
 

 
IMAGINE THAT
—Caschwa

If below this line you find
another line of similar kind
it gets like counting waves at sea
but after 7 is a 3
something wrong, what could it be?

if Mother Nature falls apart
we’ll lose the beat of every heart
the grandness of a precipice
even the snake, its signature hiss
you swat a fly but barely miss,
your fresh baked pie its legs soon kiss

there is no end we can predict
the jury’s hung, cannot convict
spring forward if you have the time
to top that pie of lemon lime
you’re put in jail, there was no crime
it’s all made up, not real, sublime
we hope to live to reach our prime

at last you stop to go to bed
it’s King size, stretches past your head
waves and snakes and pies make dreams
you won’t remember, it just seems
each star above sends you bright beams
constellations, stars in teams
literature, just reams and reams
many choices, coffees and cream

____________________________

Many thanks to today’s writers for their lively contributions! Wouldn’t you like to join them? 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!
 
See what you can make of these challenges, and send your results to kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.) Let’s tell a Fib or two this week:

•••Fibonacci (Fib) Poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/fibonacci-poetry-a-new-poetic-form AND/OR https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/68971/1-1-2-3-5-8-fun

•••AND/OR take your lead from Taylor Graham and write a Bell Curve Fibonacci:

•••Fibonacci (Fib), Bell Curve: a Fib which is on top of another Fib where the original Fib pattern is reversed; see https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/fibonacci-poetry-a-new-poetic-form

•••AND/OR try the new form TG brought us, the Jueju:

•••Jueju: https://poetsonline.org/prompt.html

•••See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one.

•••And don’t forget each Tuesday Seed of the Week! This week it’s “The First Acorn”.

____________________

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

•••Acrostic Poem types: https://studybay.com/blog/how-to-write-an-acrostic-poem
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••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
•••Dansa: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/dansa-poetic-forms
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Fibonacci (Fib) Poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/fibonacci-poetry-a-new-poetic-form AND/OR https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/68971/1-1-2-3-5-8-fun
•••Fibonacci (Fib), Bell Curve: a Fib which is on top of another Fib where the original Fib pattern is reversed; see https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/fibonacci-poetry-a-new-poetic-form
•••Found Poem: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/found-poetry-converting-or-stealing-the-words-of-others AND/OR poets.org/glossary/found-poem
•••Golden Shovel: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/golden-shovel-poetic-form
•••Jueju: https://poetsonline.org/prompt.html
•••Response Poem: creativetalentsunleashed.com/2015/11/18/writing-tip-response-poems
•••Tuesday Seed of the Week: a prompt listed in Medusa’s Kitchen every Tuesday; poems may be any shape or size, form or no form. No deadlines; past ones are listed at http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/calliopes-closet.html/. Send results to kathykieth#hotmail.com/.

__________________

—Medusa
 
 
  Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
 
 Make what you can of today's
picture, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)

* * *

—Artwork Courtesy of Public Domain
 
 
 
 
 















For info about
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
 
Now let’s see… how does that
Fibonacci thing go, again…?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 









 

Thursday, August 21, 2025

Boneyard Blues

 Thoughts
—Poetry and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH
 
 
It's a simple game
reality tries to break me
I try not to be broken

Doing the DNA dance
I want this
it wants that
we usually do that
though sometimes I say
:Kiss my this:
and that's that

Fix is in
original sin
is the yeast inside us
 
 
 
prta


My mother is Sisyphus
my father is Sisyphus
their spawn is Sisyphus

Going to have that tattooed
on my forehead
in long strokes of iridescent ink
with black light fluorescents
flashing LEDs
alternating rhythms
in subtle leave-me-alone tone

Tomorrow

Right now I polish my weep
and creep from sleep with caution

As one once said who knows
"So it goes"
 
 
 
 Armaheadon


Take 3 sips of water
ahhhhhh

Go for more
see 3 dead flies on bottom
 
 
 
Weirdway


I'm speck
stuck in larger speck
speculating on what specs
run this bloody show
because no matter how I go
it's strictly no show logic-wise
at least for brain my size
not that size matters
when you're dealing with the old
rich and white fatters
their madhatters
their sadders

how thin
can I stretch skin within
in this land of factual fracture
 
 
 
 Shardglass


Driving into city haze
on cold concrete maze

the ill of affluence
oozing to confuse us

our pockets empty
our wantings sense-free

heavy in tempting
darkness and loss

concrete covering moss

as far as I can see
wisest lifeforms are the trees

we should kneel before them
 
 
 
Boneyard Blues


Nausea gnaws at ya
that's why it's called nausea

But that's the way it is

I get angry at others' thoughtless
as I thoughtless myself

But that's the way it is

Like  to say life is fair
and trouble rare

But that's the way it isn't

Is and isn't was and why
all traffic in lie

As ever was and will be
 
 
 
TVshadow


Old black she-cat
asleep on mantle
high up safe

Exploding grow puppy
sleeping on couch
dreams of catching cat

Wife sleeps in hammock on deck
exhausted by puppiness
and escaping cat

My lids open
I look in longing
at their eyeless eyes
 
 
 
 Gunman


Do I flight in fluster
or float within the wind
the water
the weary
the wonderful

flout it all

they call me silver-haired surfer
I ride the undecided
roll the rock
watch it go
again

again
again
each time slight new subtle
in spin
drift
if

if
so strange
implies this or that
but more at
between i and f
endless

there's me
there's you
there's them
uninfinite pov's
none right
all wrong
none wrong
all right

if you meet the baby Buddha
on the road
wipe his bottom
 
 
 
 Dyslexia


Today’s LittleNip:

I burnish my image
unbutton its back
slip in

—Smith

__________________

—Medusa, with thanks to rocker Smith (Steven B. Smith) for today’s fine poetry and visuals!
 
 
 
 Me
—Visual by Smith
















 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A reminder that
Rhony Bhopla and Miriam Ahmed
will read in Davis tonight, 7pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
 
Now I’m a RATTLE snake~