The Crunch of Acorns

 

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA

—And scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday

 

WHEN IS IT TIME?

When peoples’ faces freeze on the screen,
when their voices waver,
words transforming to stringed instrument—
when monitor—zoom!—blanks out,
black cat crossing the keyboard,
when wind picks up outside the window
wildly gesticulating eucalyptus fire-
friend; pepper-tree turning saffron-orange
as autumn, as flame;
when siren streaks the county road
away/fading its alleycat scream from town
wailing time misspent, moaning it’s
already too late—
then turn off the computer.
Walk outside crunching leaf-fall
under blue sky, breathe deeper.
Now walk, exchanging breath with oaks
still standing after all these years. 

 

 

 

 

WAKAMATSU POND

I’m transient here this morning,
free of normal obligations for awhile,
basking in fall sunlight along the water—
stumbling into boggy fringes, coves
of black-white dragonflies where
willow bends to its own reflection.
And there, across the pond, formal
as a tall white candle brilliant against
wetland green, the egret.
Another step—stop! At my foot,
a crow. Dead crow iridescent black
in sunlight as if asleep on shingle.
Crow becoming free as a bird of earth. 

 

 

 

 

OCTOBER GRAVEYARD

My tires crunch acorns
on cemetery road. Oaks
can’t grow on blacktop.
Inscription on a gravestone:
What hopes died with you my son. 

 

 

 

 

THE WAY DOWN

Nothing aimless in your walk down-current,
your dog focused intently on the water.
A weekend’s sudden depravity of weather,
gentle creek churned iron-gray by whirlwind.
Your dog scans for unknown scents rising
from under—two boys who set out in a friend’s
Zodiac under generous blue skies and sleepy clouds,
the treat of Saturday adventure gone so wrong. 

 

 

 

 

 

REVENANT

It’s happened
again. Our old dog
is summoned.
All year long,
ads for pet health insurance
for Ranger—a dog

long dead. Now,
October’s bonus:
Make Ranger
the talk of
the town this Halloween!
Pooch costumes! In this

spook-time when
spirits of many
species walk
among us,
shall Ranger dress as Yoda
or superhero?

or lightweight
dragon wings? Rest his
bones but let
his spirit
fly—old Ranger would surely
be talk of the town. 

 

 

 

 

IN THIS TREE-MONTH

A spare moment? Let’s just eavesdrop
what the leaves say as breeze turns a corner,
a change in air pressure, collision
and contrast of fronts. Let’s listen
to this community of trees,
their more than humanizing connection
of roots, how they drink deep from the earth
while we go on with our conflicts and
celebrations, our guns and hugs,
our mistakes, our roads to discovery. 

 

 

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

800-NUMBER
—Taylor Graham

You
were on hold
seventeen minutes
minutes one might call misspent
but you were scribbling verses
on an envelope
art makes time
fly

________________________

Another week flies past (“art makes time fly”), and we heartily thank Taylor Graham for today’s beautiful poems and photos! She has a poem about Wakamatsu—speaking of which, she and Katy Brown will do another workshop there on November 8—which isn’t that far off. For more information and to register, see www.arconservancy.org/event/capturing-wakamatsu-a-poetry-walk-workshop/.

A reminder that Davis Poet Laureate James Lee Jobe continues his online poetry reading series tonight, October 23, with poetry from Galway Kinnell's book, When One Has Lived A Long Time Alone. This free reading will be posted online by 7pm Friday at both james-lee-jobe.blogspot.com/ and youtube.com/jamesleejobe.

And now it’s 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.)

Taylor sends us forms today, including a Shadorma (“Revenant”); a Joseph's Star, last week’s Fiddlers’ Challenge (“800-Number”); plus a Tanka and a poem of repetition (“When Is It Time?”). See above for these, and go to Medusa’s Form Finder for links to their definitions.

Also sending us forms this week was Joyce Odam, who sent us a Rondelet based on Medusa’s recent Seed of the Week, “Time Misspent”. Her work with its echoing repeated line reminds me that such lines should have a ring to them, some substance, a sense of meaning beyond mere repetition. "And time is spent" does that for Joyce here:

DENOMINATION
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

And time is spent
without reclaim; it trickles by,
and time is spent.
And we bewilder where it went—
how much it cost—but didn’t buy,
time on the run…   time on the fly…
and time is spent.

 

 

 

Time on the fly...

 

Carol Louise Moon has sent us an Espinella:

CLEVER BIRD   
—Carol Louise Moon, Placerville, CA

I watched the clever plover bird
circling on the ground.  I saw him
feign a broken wing so grim.
I thought, surely he is injured.
From this his enemies inferred
him weak, a target, easy prey—
until the plover flew away
to chicks who waited in their nest.
He took his leave and joined the rest
who lived to see another day.


If you check back to yesterday’s post by Carol Louise Moon, you’ll see two more forms: a Pantoum (“Red, Red Roses”) and a Freestyle Villanelle (“The Blue Ghost of Disappointment”).

 

 

 

 

Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) has sent us a Masnavi this week:

BABY NAMES
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

squeeze the old testicle, Hope for Miracle
whip out that hot pistol, take aim from distal
if everything works out, no name is in doubt
reading baby-name books can bring dirty looks
instead we pass down names, like Bob, Tim, or James
from one generation’s key adorations
less so with Jehovah, maybe that’s ovah
it wouldn’t quite fit in a culture of sin
perhaps just name the child something new like Wild 

 

 

 

 

Here is Carl’s Trolaan:

SOURCES
—Caschwa

many emails are solicitations
most desperate, even gruff
making grandiose ovations
money needed, can’t get enough

asking for donations now
a worthy candidate is running low
and their opponent is a cash cow
act quickly to send some dough

sources on the evening news
stated quite a different story
seems our candidate is ready to cruise
substantial funds raised for their glory

one has to wonder what it means
our world lets evil run the show
once it was gold standard, now the greens
overrule the norms we used to know

 

 

 

 

About her Joseph’s Star, Taylor Graham says, “The rules for Joseph's Star says it may be centered, but let's not.” Carl, on the other hand, chose to center his:

WALK OF FAME
—Caschwa

we
family
including the dog
and memories of elders
have all reached the conclusion
that nothing matters
unless it
cries

***

stare
forever
a bright panoply
Earth, heaven, God, and country
forcing their wills upon us
immortal castles
without life
die

***

I
must reach you
before you get hurt
the air itself will kill you
global pandemics don’t care
for creature comforts
I am your
mask

***

soft
cement path
Hollywood feature
nothing could be more stupid
draws tourists like poop does flies
shutter speed, focus
hold that pose
smile

 

 

 

I am your mask...

 

Finally, Carl sends a Sandwiched by Sevens, an elegant form of his own concoction:

YEAH, BUT
-Caschwa
 
yeah, I like watching the news
real reporting, not just views
but when brilliant smiles
only let us choose
abundant fanfare
like so much cheap booze
I will tune that out
because I tuned in for facts
not news team charm to the max

____________________

Many thanks to our SnakePals today 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!

____________________

NEW FEATURE: Fiddlers’ Challenge!  

 

See what you can make of this week’s poetry forms, and send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) This week's challenge is a Lanturne (www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lanturne.html), which seems appropriate to the season. Make it seasonal; make it pretty.

And don’t forget Medusa’s Seed of the Week: Hot Coffee!

 

 

 


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

•••Espinella: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/espinela-poetic-forms
•••Joseph’s Star: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/josephsstar.html
•••Lanturne: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lanturne.html
•••Masnavi (or Mathnawi): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/masnavi-or-mathnawi-poetic-forms
•••Pantoum: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/pantoum.html
•••Rondelet: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rondelet-poetic-forms
•••Sandwiched by Sevens: 7,7,5,5,5,5,5,7,7, rhyme scheme aaxaxaxbb (Carl Schwartz)
•••Shadorma: www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/shadorma-a-highly-addictive-poetic-form-from-spain
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••Trolaan: shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/trolaan.html
•••Villanelle (rhymed; can be done unrhymed): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-forms-villanelle

___________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

La raza de perro mas rara del mundo

—Public Domain Photo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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