Friday, October 09, 2020

Orange! Yellow! Red!

   

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA 

 

MOZART STEALS AN ORANGE

Three days by coach on the road to Prague.
The Lord ripens chords along the bough,
each blossom a note springing from northern
edge of wilderness. And, approaching
lunchtime at the castle of some Count, among
laurel and oleander—the marvel of an orangery!
one tree so heavy with gold, if a man reached
out his hand, a single coin might fall into it,
rare as a bird from farther south than summer.
Here is Mozart, gardener growing a whole
world’s music. Is he not required to pluck
this unsavored golden melody, to compose
it on his palm, to taste its yet unplayed fruit?


(prev. pub. in Kaleidowhirl)

 


 

ORANGE T MOMENT
Golden Shovel form after Wendy Cope’s “The Orange”

I got up in the early silent dark and
opened a drawer, felt for the T-shirt that
means search-training day—it’s orange.
And from the farthest end of house it
called my dog. Orange that’s always made
him dance down the hall to hurry me,
inhaling the dark silence, exhaling just so,
in dog anticipation shouting Happy! 

 


 

SKY LIGHT

Still dark through windows and within our walls
except a green pinprick of LED—
the house-pulse steady as dreams floated free
and black cat’s eyes patrolled the nooks and halls
of not-quite-morning. What is it that calls
me to windows? A light through limbs of tree—
of solid oak. One planet speaks to me
above the deep river of night, its falls. 

 


 

REVISITING PERSIMMON

I knew persimmons. But what you offered was so
ripe it opened pure orange in my hand, it burst
of its own accord, so sweet it nearly melted.
Beyond the realm of fruit, your persimmon gift. 

 


 

THIS BLOOD MOON

Rising red-
orange, a pumpkin’s head
above the bare-branch limbs of oak—

it’s October’s full moon veiled in a chill gray cloak.
It’s wildfire time, season of far and distant smoke.
And will our canyon be burning soon?

Evening breeze pipes the tune:
This Blood Moon. 

 


 

HALLOWEEN ORANGE

After a Public Domain Photo,
Medusa’s Kitchen, Sept. 28, 2020

 

A pumpkin-orange mask
on the child he picked up
at school. Alas, it was
not his child. How could he
know? His wife’s job, to dress
their kid for school; he had
already gone to his
job which is stress enough.
What will become of him?
unwitting kidnapper
of a child in mask as
orange as Halloween
sunset, as jailbird-jump-
suit costume—trick or treat. 

 


 

Today’s LittleNip:

OH THOSE REDS AND ORANGES
—Taylor Graham

In answer to my Cezanne
you said, “why not?”


(prev. pub. in
Brevities)

______________________

Lots of reds and oranges in Taylor Graham's poetry and photos this morning, and thanks, TG, for those vibrant colors of the season! And forms! She sends us a Golden Shovel (“Orange T Moment”); a Sicilian Octave (“Sky Light”); an Ekphrastic poem (“Halloween Orange”); an Imayo (“Revisiting Persimmon”); and a Trois-par-Huit (“This Blood Moon”). Go to the links in Medusa’s Form Finder down at the bottom of this post to see the recipes for these forms, and then give them a try yourself! We can’t control much these days, but we can sure as hell control our poetry!

And now its’ time for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!


______________________

FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY! 


It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! Each Friday for awhile, there will be poems posted here from some of our readers using forms—either ones which were mentioned on 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 forms and get them posted in the Kitchen, by golly! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for links to definitions of the forms used this week.)

Here we have an Ekphrastic poem sent to us by Sue Crisp, based on our Seed of the Week, which was this photo: 

 



REFLECTIONS  
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA                                                  

The passage of time
from childhood to man.
The pilgrimage through
the eras of time.

Each bold in its testament
of living in these warps of
time.  One can only guess
what the final stage reveals.

____________________

Last week we introduced a new Form Fiddler’s Feature: a weekly form challenge. Last Friday’s was the Argonelle, and Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) took the bait. He even wove a tiny Acrostic into the mix:


MISSING EDITION (Argonelle w/Acrostic)
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA


darkness
it had been so quiet
calm and peaceful little birdies
family house since the thirties
home-grown food the diet

our home
gone with our hopes and dreams
Elle, with page corner folded tight
ablaze in angry orange from night
whole town now fallen beams

loaded
magazines combusted
propane tanks just gave it their all
drought-dry fields with weeds mighty tall
nothing could be trusted

goodness
lots of helpers appeared
first responders quick and ready
hoses, gurneys, sure and steady
land remained charred and seared

sadness
all those bad emotions
some helicopters hovering
beyond rescue, recovering
our tears become oceans

cleanup
just overwhelming odds
our record good, our taxes paid
we’re going to need a lot of aid
don’t waste our time with frauds

rebuild!
we must, we will, come back
and have that house we had, again
with hopes and dreams from outside in
alive, we do not lack 

 



Carl also sent us a Cinquain chain:

CAN’T SMILE
—Caschwa

discreet
blue exam gloves
touch private body parts
methodically probing you for
data

***

doctor
maintains rigid
facial expression, no
matter what the results turn out
to be

***

prior
visits for same
examination were
negative, but that does not count
today

***

suffer
the mystery
check computer daily
no telephone calls are quite a
good sign

***

you think
you’ll have some sweets
tantalize your taste buds
divert your mind from this issue
phone rings….

_____________________

NEW FEATURE: Fiddlers’ 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 is a Clerihew (www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/clerihew.html)— simple enough, but watch out for the restrictions on subject.

_____________________

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!

_____________________

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

•••Acrostic: literarydevices.net/acrostic 

•••Argonelle: poeticsonline.com/glossary/argonelles 

•••Cinquain: poets.org/glossary/cinquain OR www.poewar.com/poetry-in-forms-series-cinquain 

•••Clerihew: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/clerihew.html 

•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry 

•••Golden Shovel: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/golden-shovel-poetic-form 

•••Imayo: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/imayo-poetic-form   

•••Sicilian Octave: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/sicilian-octave-poetic-forms 

•••Trois-par-Huit: shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/troisparhuit.html

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

















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