Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
and Joyce Odam
WHEAT FIELD WITH CYPRESSES
Vincent Van Gogh, Saint-Rémy, 1889
This landscape seethes with living heat,
sun’s cloud-convection white on blue
reflected, rising off a sheet
so blank, the colors beckon you
to paint. It’s solitude’s purlieu.
This landscape seethes with living heat,
it roils up under clouds that brew
a thought of storm, a thunder beat
beyond horizon. Here, your feet
might stir red poppies—just a few.
This landscape seethes with living heat,
impassive to man’s presence. Who
would think to ease the soul, renew
the spirit in this place? Just wheat,
two trees, the questing sky. Like you,
this landscape seethes with living heat.
Vincent Van Gogh, Saint-Rémy, 1889
This landscape seethes with living heat,
sun’s cloud-convection white on blue
reflected, rising off a sheet
so blank, the colors beckon you
to paint. It’s solitude’s purlieu.
This landscape seethes with living heat,
it roils up under clouds that brew
a thought of storm, a thunder beat
beyond horizon. Here, your feet
might stir red poppies—just a few.
This landscape seethes with living heat,
impassive to man’s presence. Who
would think to ease the soul, renew
the spirit in this place? Just wheat,
two trees, the questing sky. Like you,
this landscape seethes with living heat.
THE MUSE SAID
Forget the thought you had
that just lacks brilliant poetic words.
Wordless is the image
in your brain, a string of syllables
dreams too darkly secret
to be translated into language
a swash of linguistic paints,
colors, textures, a dance-beat
one step, one sound leading
to the next—what might you discover?
Forget the thought you had
that just lacks brilliant poetic words.
Wordless is the image
in your brain, a string of syllables
dreams too darkly secret
to be translated into language
a swash of linguistic paints,
colors, textures, a dance-beat
one step, one sound leading
to the next—what might you discover?
SO MANY QUESTIONS
Was someone smoking weed
where you sweat early mornings
to cut nature’s dead stuff?
A long way inside your fences—
how did this Diablo Kush
get on your property?
Was it there last week
in your wild west corner
of rock and tall dead grasses?
Is that a pleasant spot
among poison oak and stickers
to sit and get high?
Can’t whoever did this
be soberly aware
it’s rattlesnake heaven?
Is it a place to get euphoric
and, while feeling wonderful,
start a wild grass fire?
Was someone smoking weed
where you sweat early mornings
to cut nature’s dead stuff?
A long way inside your fences—
how did this Diablo Kush
get on your property?
Was it there last week
in your wild west corner
of rock and tall dead grasses?
Is that a pleasant spot
among poison oak and stickers
to sit and get high?
Can’t whoever did this
be soberly aware
it’s rattlesnake heaven?
Is it a place to get euphoric
and, while feeling wonderful,
start a wild grass fire?
DARK SECRETS
in the mouth of the dead oak stump
open to swarms of tiny gnats, a fallen oak-
leaf is caught, twirling on a strand of spider silk,
its leaf-kin becoming soil in the oak’s mouth.
On the stump’s cheek a red spot is painted:
another oak—that might conceivably fall
on the power line—must be cut down;
its open cavity, where birds nest and wild
creatures find shelter, will be gone. These two
oaks are friends united by roots, birdsong,
and the dark secrets in their mouths.
in the mouth of the dead oak stump
open to swarms of tiny gnats, a fallen oak-
leaf is caught, twirling on a strand of spider silk,
its leaf-kin becoming soil in the oak’s mouth.
On the stump’s cheek a red spot is painted:
another oak—that might conceivably fall
on the power line—must be cut down;
its open cavity, where birds nest and wild
creatures find shelter, will be gone. These two
oaks are friends united by roots, birdsong,
and the dark secrets in their mouths.
ABANDONED RESORT
We’re
walking
on a whole
summer’s sun—this
tiny, vibrantly
yellow Bird’s-foot Trefoil.
8000 FT ELEVATION
How does this meadow bloom sublime
against the summit’s ultra glare,
so short its season in thin air?
Each blossom makes the most of time.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
ABOVE THE DRY CREEK
—Taylor Graham
What are these rocks for?
Gray’s the shade of life beyond
the gravity of breathing.
__________________
Our thanks to Taylor Graham today; she’s talking about summer, and about its effects on the world of the Sierra foothills. Rattlesnakss love it, though, so watch where you hang out...
Forms TG has sent us today include a Quatern that is also an Ekphrastic poem based on Van Gogh (“Wheat Field with Cypresses”); an Ars Poetica that is also a Just 15s (“The Muse Said”); a Katauta (“Above the Dry Creek”); a Triversen (“So Many Questions”); a Response to our Tuesday Seed of the Week (“Dark Secrets”); some Stepping Stones (“Abandoned Resort”); and a Memoriam Quatrain (“8000 Ft Elevation”). Those dark secrets are woven into a couple of other of TG’s poems today (“dreams too darkly secret”). Such secrets have a way of sneaking into poems, don’t they? The Quatern and the Quatrain were two of last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
El Dorado County Poet Laureate Emeritus Lara Gularte will be one of the presenters at the Círculo de poetas & Writers Conference '25 to be held both in-person (Aug. 23) and online (Aug. 30) in Santa Cruz, CA. Check it out/register/all that good stuff at https://circulowriters.com/.
In El Dorado County poetry, Poetic License will meet in Placerville this coming Monday, 7/14, 10:30am. Suggested topic is "fireplace", but any subject is welcome. And El Dorado County’s regular workshops are 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!
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!
* * *
Poets who sent responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo were Nolcha Fox, and Stephen Kingsnorth:
SAND BETWEEN OUR TOES
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
When we met, we walked along
the surfline on the beach.
We didn’t know that walk would lead
to love and life together.
We may be growing older,
but we will not grow up.
Hand in hand, we’ll always walk
with sand between our toes.
* * *
NOT WALKING BUT DROWNING
(from Sylvia Plath Hughes)
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
An error made that this the norm,
joint bare-foot wading, final lap,
though waves suggest uneasy crest,
that final rest not as expect,
as storms, say, mark our closing days,
weigh heavily as drag retreats.
What may turnup, concluding leg,
and leave us stranded, sands of time,
when bucket list lost in the mist—
e’en memories are cut adrift.
No wonder angle from behind,
as partners passing where once surfed?
For many, most, this day retreats.
So walking past the setting light—
these shadows fall behind their lead;
but what lies there where now they tread—
coloured reflections on their past,
a watercolour of their moves.
A tidal wave, demented souls,
cognition gone of relatives;
though music of a childhood, note,
breaks the sound barrier imposed;
those songs of Sunday School once sung,
or rhymes of nursery rehearsed.
Her bag. coat style, his glance suggest
to me that she out of her depth;
except she paces nearer froth,
exposure one might not expect.
I learnt as boy, my father taught
that man should walk kerbside on street.
For those whose closest left the fray,
whose days have parted from the way,
or those whose crumbling frame precedes
shared journeys in the latter phase;
as prime and tide too soon recede
those privileged to last stands clear.
* * *
Joyce Odam has sent us a Stefanile Triadic Sonnet today which speaks to us of dark secrets:
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
An error made that this the norm,
joint bare-foot wading, final lap,
though waves suggest uneasy crest,
that final rest not as expect,
as storms, say, mark our closing days,
weigh heavily as drag retreats.
What may turnup, concluding leg,
and leave us stranded, sands of time,
when bucket list lost in the mist—
e’en memories are cut adrift.
No wonder angle from behind,
as partners passing where once surfed?
For many, most, this day retreats.
So walking past the setting light—
these shadows fall behind their lead;
but what lies there where now they tread—
coloured reflections on their past,
a watercolour of their moves.
A tidal wave, demented souls,
cognition gone of relatives;
though music of a childhood, note,
breaks the sound barrier imposed;
those songs of Sunday School once sung,
or rhymes of nursery rehearsed.
Her bag. coat style, his glance suggest
to me that she out of her depth;
except she paces nearer froth,
exposure one might not expect.
I learnt as boy, my father taught
that man should walk kerbside on street.
For those whose closest left the fray,
whose days have parted from the way,
or those whose crumbling frame precedes
shared journeys in the latter phase;
as prime and tide too soon recede
those privileged to last stands clear.
* * *
Joyce Odam has sent us a Stefanile Triadic Sonnet today which speaks to us of dark secrets:
THE HAUNTED CHILDREN
Stefanile Triadic Sonnet
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
The paths meander in and out of sight—
the old house, watching, can’t see to the end.
The children love to play out there all night.
The windows watch the children wend and wend.
Something entices. The children want to know,
for moonlight flickers—all the pathways glow.
The old house worries. Windows try to warn
as nightly winds come up. Trees moan and bend.
The maze-paths deepen where the shadows blend.
Leaves fall like tears . . . the children are unborn.
Their mother weeps but can’t remember why.
The mother dreads another haunted dawn.
The house still thinks it hears the children cry.
The children safely dream the old house gone.
(prev. pub. in Poets’ Forum Magazine;
and in Medusa’s Kitchen, 11/1/11)
* * *
And here, from Stephen Kingsnorth, is an Ekphrastic poem which is also an Ars Poetica, all about this mysterious empty chair. What the note we underscore?
Stefanile Triadic Sonnet
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
The paths meander in and out of sight—
the old house, watching, can’t see to the end.
The children love to play out there all night.
The windows watch the children wend and wend.
Something entices. The children want to know,
for moonlight flickers—all the pathways glow.
The old house worries. Windows try to warn
as nightly winds come up. Trees moan and bend.
The maze-paths deepen where the shadows blend.
Leaves fall like tears . . . the children are unborn.
Their mother weeps but can’t remember why.
The mother dreads another haunted dawn.
The house still thinks it hears the children cry.
The children safely dream the old house gone.
(prev. pub. in Poets’ Forum Magazine;
and in Medusa’s Kitchen, 11/1/11)
* * *
And here, from Stephen Kingsnorth, is an Ekphrastic poem which is also an Ars Poetica, all about this mysterious empty chair. What the note we underscore?
Untitled, Jannis Kounellis, 1969 (Greece/Italy)
RSVP
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Untitled always provokes, prompts,
why such a void, RSVP,
or better hint, vacuum abhorred,
as interactive must proceed?
The chair was occupied, unveiled,
a cellist, playing manuscript
itself in darkened corner set,
St John’s Passion, a fragment, Bach.
Here’s history and living art,
a mix of disciplines to muse,
from eye transposed, expectant ear
less vacancy goes unfulfilled.
But each musician for their part
will play as only they perform,
no two ever conformity,
so each rendition own alone.
The staged work may be commonplace,
and ours the choice of choir involved,
but what of chair unoccupied,
and our sense of entitlement?
A seat of judgement, gospel tale,
of status, academia,
the leadership for board’s debate,
but what the note we underscore?
__________________
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!
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.) Respond to Joyce Odam’s lovely Stefanile Triadic Sonnet with one of your own:
•••Sonnet, Stefanile Triadic: http://everysonnet.blogspot.com/2013/01/stefanile-triadic-sonnet.html
•••AND/OR “one sound leading to the next—what might you discover?” says Taylor Graham’s muse. Write us an Alliterisen, with its alliteration bundled up inside:
•••Alliterisen: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alliterisen.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 “Beyond Absurd”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Just 15s (devised by Sarah Harding): poem or stanza of 15 syllables
•••Katauta: www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/katauta-poetic-form
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples
•••Quatern: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wipquatern.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-a-quatern#what-is-a-quatern
•••Response Poem: creativetalentsunleashed.com/2015/11/18/writing-tip-response-poems
•••Sonnet, Stefanile Triadic: http://everysonnet.blogspot.com/2013/01/stefanile-triadic-sonnet.html
•••Stepping Stones (devised by Claire Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (7, etc.)
•••Triversen: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/triversen-poetic-form
•••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
•••Sonnet, Stefanile Triadic: http://everysonnet.blogspot.com/2013/01/stefanile-triadic-sonnet.html
•••AND/OR “one sound leading to the next—what might you discover?” says Taylor Graham’s muse. Write us an Alliterisen, with its alliteration bundled up inside:
•••Alliterisen: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/alliterisen.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 “Beyond Absurd”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Just 15s (devised by Sarah Harding): poem or stanza of 15 syllables
•••Katauta: www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/katauta-poetic-form
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples
•••Quatern: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wipquatern.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-a-quatern#what-is-a-quatern
•••Response Poem: creativetalentsunleashed.com/2015/11/18/writing-tip-response-poems
•••Sonnet, Stefanile Triadic: http://everysonnet.blogspot.com/2013/01/stefanile-triadic-sonnet.html
•••Stepping Stones (devised by Claire Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (7, etc.)
•••Triversen: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/triversen-poetic-form
•••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
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!
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!
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