—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down for Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
EXPLAINING THE STORM
Last night the rain was never-ending here,
so much it saturates leftover dreams
to dissipate and scatter clouds that clear
the morning sky. Is nothing what it seems?
The crack and tremor of a storm-wracked oak
we missed in sleeping. Here’s the evidence,
a fall of tangled branching limbs that choke
the driveway; one great trunk athwart a fence.
In reason-mode, what could we not control?
The wind has found a flaw in our design.
The walls don’t hold. The floor’s a tiding roll
or is there in our heads no solid line?
The storm moved through and left us so.
Some puzzle pieces, remnants we let go.
Last night the rain was never-ending here,
so much it saturates leftover dreams
to dissipate and scatter clouds that clear
the morning sky. Is nothing what it seems?
The crack and tremor of a storm-wracked oak
we missed in sleeping. Here’s the evidence,
a fall of tangled branching limbs that choke
the driveway; one great trunk athwart a fence.
In reason-mode, what could we not control?
The wind has found a flaw in our design.
The walls don’t hold. The floor’s a tiding roll
or is there in our heads no solid line?
The storm moved through and left us so.
Some puzzle pieces, remnants we let go.
FOG FORMING
There’s a swarming fog
in the lowlands, according
to the weatherman—
or maybe it’s just your ears,
your tinnitus and
two days before Halloween
you’re getting haunted
in advance by advancing
time and weather’s scary toll.
There’s a swarming fog
in the lowlands, according
to the weatherman—
or maybe it’s just your ears,
your tinnitus and
two days before Halloween
you’re getting haunted
in advance by advancing
time and weather’s scary toll.
THAT LAST NIGHT, THE RAIN
In backyard dark lit only by a feeble
flashlight, I followed the pup
we were nursing—my old dog and I.
Pup just back from the vet,
her breeder out of town. Her first night
away from home. What did she know
of rain? searching for home
in the wet dark.
At last she squatted, made puppy-rain
in wet-shine fallen leaves,
my dimming flashlight silhouetting
a pup’s first rainy night—
her latest trip to the vet behind us—
before we all went back inside,
waiting for tomorrow’s
weather.
In backyard dark lit only by a feeble
flashlight, I followed the pup
we were nursing—my old dog and I.
Pup just back from the vet,
her breeder out of town. Her first night
away from home. What did she know
of rain? searching for home
in the wet dark.
At last she squatted, made puppy-rain
in wet-shine fallen leaves,
my dimming flashlight silhouetting
a pup’s first rainy night—
her latest trip to the vet behind us—
before we all went back inside,
waiting for tomorrow’s
weather.
2nd CHILDHOOD
She’s more cautious now,
finding surprise and delight
in sun-struck water.
She’s more cautious now,
finding surprise and delight
in sun-struck water.
DISCOVERING AMBER
Adventure used to be
high in mountains discovering
sunrise splintering through a lava gap
not indicated on his topo map
a long way from town, switchbacking
above an ancient sea.
Now his legs can’t take it. Cat in his lap,
in daydreams he goes exploring
marvels he still can see
in books or on TV—
rock and tree, amber beckoning
with once-live insect caught in golden sap.
Adventure used to be
high in mountains discovering
sunrise splintering through a lava gap
not indicated on his topo map
a long way from town, switchbacking
above an ancient sea.
Now his legs can’t take it. Cat in his lap,
in daydreams he goes exploring
marvels he still can see
in books or on TV—
rock and tree, amber beckoning
with once-live insect caught in golden sap.
VISITANT
That bird of omen, a great blue heron
lifted from our fallow rain-greening field,
startled to see me so unexpected
coming to dump a load of cold dead ash.
How much good cordwood we burn to make ash
pale with lines of char, colors of heron
descended today so unexpected
on our November sheep-abandoned field.
Remember our first New Year here, this field
suddenly alive as flame from the ash—
poised mid-stride on hunger-hunt, the heron.
Sometimes joy can come so unexpected,
a sunray through storm clouds unexpected
on a December day as gray as ash,
my mind gone wandering its empty field—
and there, alighting like omen, Heron.
Where is Heron now? in a neighbor’s field
unexpected as a blessing from ash.
That bird of omen, a great blue heron
lifted from our fallow rain-greening field,
startled to see me so unexpected
coming to dump a load of cold dead ash.
How much good cordwood we burn to make ash
pale with lines of char, colors of heron
descended today so unexpected
on our November sheep-abandoned field.
Remember our first New Year here, this field
suddenly alive as flame from the ash—
poised mid-stride on hunger-hunt, the heron.
Sometimes joy can come so unexpected,
a sunray through storm clouds unexpected
on a December day as gray as ash,
my mind gone wandering its empty field—
and there, alighting like omen, Heron.
Where is Heron now? in a neighbor’s field
unexpected as a blessing from ash.
Today’s LittleNip:
IN DOWNTOWN PARKING GARAGE
—Taylor Graham
The cars come and go—
these trees have stood here for-
ever standing still.
_________________________
Taylor Graham celebrates in poetry and photos the recent stormy weather up here in the foothills, and many thanks to her for that! May her poems encourage more rain to visit up our way. TG writes in forms today: a Choka (“Fog Forming”); a Senryu (“2nd Childhood”); a Haiku (“In Downtown Parking Garage”); a Bragi (“Discovering Amber”); a Sonnet (“Explaining the Storm”); and a Quatrina (“Visitant”).
And now it’s time for. . .
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
This week I’ve added a new section of resources (down at the bottom of the post) that I’ve found helpful and/or fun. Feel free to send more.
Today, Joyce Odam has sent us a smooth-as-silk Rainis Sonnet:
ANOTHER DAY
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
You ask me why the windows go so dark;
I tell you there is no more light to lose.
You pull the shades to their old measure-mark,
I watch the night take on its somber hues
as one last flock of doves pours from the trees
with flutterings of white that seem to spark,
and then go out—we feel the moment freeze.
This is the day we entered with such praise.
It dwindles down like all the other days.
… and also a rainy day Double Cinquain (2244668822 syllables). Thanks, Joyce!
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
You ask me why the windows go so dark;
I tell you there is no more light to lose.
You pull the shades to their old measure-mark,
I watch the night take on its somber hues
as one last flock of doves pours from the trees
with flutterings of white that seem to spark,
and then go out—we feel the moment freeze.
This is the day we entered with such praise.
It dwindles down like all the other days.
… and also a rainy day Double Cinquain (2244668822 syllables). Thanks, Joyce!
EPISTLE
—Joyce Odam
Dear Rain,
I’m glad
you’re back; I heard
you all last night. . . .
you soothed my restless sleep
and now at day’s first light
my cat sits on the windowsill
and watches you . . . and watches you . . .
I just
listen.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth responded to last Friday's Ekphrastic challenge, noting, appropriately, that “they’re not so unlike”. . .
—Joyce Odam
Dear Rain,
I’m glad
you’re back; I heard
you all last night. . . .
you soothed my restless sleep
and now at day’s first light
my cat sits on the windowsill
and watches you . . . and watches you . . .
I just
listen.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth responded to last Friday's Ekphrastic challenge, noting, appropriately, that “they’re not so unlike”. . .
JUST SO
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
One root, the other circus laugh—
the bucket whoosh beyond the pale—
two taps unleashed now met as pair.
Wholefood eaten whole, unpeeled,
the veg not pared, as we would do—
there’s none to spare for compost heap.
The TV ad’s, those cash appeals,
tell me the training’s cruel, unkind,
stick too much for carrots found.
My side of pond, car trunk’s called boot,
first word reserved for luggage box,
or, I as child, long-distance call.
So stir the words and idioms,
as search used phrases, synonyms,
hear homonyms, learn smithy terms.
But study that ekphrastic pic,
beyond the grey and orange tones
and see that they’re not so unlike.
That outer skin is rough in both,
those hairs trail wispy in the light,
and rings surround their girth, full length.
This makes me think on Kipling’s words,
daughter’s demand, the script exact,
‘Just So’, lore, real mythology.
A poet’s rôle, to look beyond
the obvious, then test it out,
present us all some question marks?
* * *
Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) also responded to the Ekphrastic challenge:
FINDING ONE’S ROOTS
—Caschwa
humans go to great lengths,
spending vast amounts of
time, effort, and money to
find their ancestors, find
their roots, put it all in
order, while lower
forms of Earthly
life just grow
them
And Carl, like Taylor Graham, responded to last week's Fiddlers’ Challenge, the Bragi (can you say “micromanagemental” three times fast?):
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
One root, the other circus laugh—
the bucket whoosh beyond the pale—
two taps unleashed now met as pair.
Wholefood eaten whole, unpeeled,
the veg not pared, as we would do—
there’s none to spare for compost heap.
The TV ad’s, those cash appeals,
tell me the training’s cruel, unkind,
stick too much for carrots found.
My side of pond, car trunk’s called boot,
first word reserved for luggage box,
or, I as child, long-distance call.
So stir the words and idioms,
as search used phrases, synonyms,
hear homonyms, learn smithy terms.
But study that ekphrastic pic,
beyond the grey and orange tones
and see that they’re not so unlike.
That outer skin is rough in both,
those hairs trail wispy in the light,
and rings surround their girth, full length.
This makes me think on Kipling’s words,
daughter’s demand, the script exact,
‘Just So’, lore, real mythology.
A poet’s rôle, to look beyond
the obvious, then test it out,
present us all some question marks?
* * *
Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) also responded to the Ekphrastic challenge:
FINDING ONE’S ROOTS
—Caschwa
humans go to great lengths,
spending vast amounts of
time, effort, and money to
find their ancestors, find
their roots, put it all in
order, while lower
forms of Earthly
life just grow
them
And Carl, like Taylor Graham, responded to last week's Fiddlers’ Challenge, the Bragi (can you say “micromanagemental” three times fast?):
PERSNICKETY
—Caschwa
micromanagemental
challenges from all encounters
persimmon or periwinkle argyles?
sorry, didn’t get to choose my own styles
limited by my universe
really sucks, all in all
my rejected proposals sit in piles
awaiting genuine offers
but who you gonna call?
forcing change requires gall
and blank checks from open coffers
neither thoughts nor prayers nor whims nor wiles
—Caschwa
micromanagemental
challenges from all encounters
persimmon or periwinkle argyles?
sorry, didn’t get to choose my own styles
limited by my universe
really sucks, all in all
my rejected proposals sit in piles
awaiting genuine offers
but who you gonna call?
forcing change requires gall
and blank checks from open coffers
neither thoughts nor prayers nor whims nor wiles
Plus, Caschwa has sent an Acrostic form (use first words), complete with croutons:
EVENTUALLY
—Caschwa
when people ask me what
I do for a living, I say I
grow restless herbs, toss
up amazing salads that
I’d sooner photograph than eat,
rather unconventional, yes!
not what one would expect it to
be in light of all the resources
a modern poet has to construct a
poem in good form, not
anymore rhyme or meter,
but the measured ingredients of
a wholesome salad topped with
churro croutons and dressing,
bringing out forbidden flavors to
delight any appetite, roaring
to the top of the charts,
the first choice for
mouths that have been deprived
of conveying the words of
poets to a salad bowl
and nurturing
everyone
__________________
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!
__________________
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:
•••Verbless Poetry: poets.org/glossary/verbless-poetry
Do you dare? A poem without verbs?? OMG!!!
And see the bottom of this post for another challenge, an Ekphrastic one!
__________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Acrostic: literarydevices.net/acrostic
•••Bragi: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bragi
•••Choka: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/choka OR poetscollective.org/poetryforms/choka
•••Cinquain: poets.org/glossary/cinquain OR www.poewar.com/poetry-in-forms-series-cinquain./ See www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/adelaide-crapsey for info about the inventor, Adelaide Crapsey.
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Quatrina (Ruth Harrison): form of Sestina using end-word order 1, 2, 3, 4 | 4, 1, 3, 2 | 2, 4, 1, 3 | 3, 4, 2, 1 (envoy: 1 – 2 , 3 – 4 )
•••Senryu: www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-senryu-poems#quiz-0
•••Sestina: www.wikihow.com/Write-a-Sestina
•••Sonnet, Rainis: everysonnet.blogspot.com/2012/11/rainis-sonnet.html?m=0
•••Verbless Poetry: poets.org/glossary/verbless-poetry
RESOURCES:
•••Shadow Poetry: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/types.html
•••Poets’ Collective: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/example-index
•••Poets.org: poets.org/glossary
•••Poetry Foundation: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms?category=209
•••Bob’s Byway: www.poeticbyway.com/glossary.html
•••Desolation Poems by Sacramento’s Jan Haag: janhaag.com/PODesIntro.html
•••Baymoon: www.baymoon.com/~ariadne
•••The Poets Garret: thepoetsgarret.com/list.html
•••Lewis Turco: www.amazon.com/Lewis-Turco/e/B001K7LAUQ%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
•••Writer’s Digest: www.writersdigest.com/?s=poetry&submit= (just type in the form you want in the search bar at upper right) OR www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/list-of-50-poetic-forms-for-poets
ALSO:
•••Annie Finch: "Listening to Poetry": www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2009/03/listening-to-poetry/.
•••"What is Poetic Form?" by Emily Jarvis, a short description of how/why poetry is structured into forms: penandthepad.com/poetic-form-8726589.html/. Also by the same author: “Examples of Musical Devices in Poetry”: penandthepad.com/examples-musical-devices-poems-20170.html/.
•••The Guardian Poem of the Week: www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2017/nov/20/poem-of-the-week-yoga-for-leaders-and-others-by-philip-fried/.
__________________
—Medusa
See what you can make of the above
photo, and send it to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
***
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of
Joseph Nolan
photo, and send it to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
***
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of
Joseph Nolan
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.
Insert poem here~