—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
THANK YOU
Into the cold morning
I walked out burdened by news
of the world—
I looked up
across gray-fallow field to see
you, mule-deer doe—
maybe a yearling, a live
statue staring at me a question—
what is my mind, my human
intention?—
then as if not moving you lift
above earth gaining
altitude with each spirit
leap pogo bouncing
out of sight
leaving only my vision
of you behind.
Into the cold morning
I walked out burdened by news
of the world—
I looked up
across gray-fallow field to see
you, mule-deer doe—
maybe a yearling, a live
statue staring at me a question—
what is my mind, my human
intention?—
then as if not moving you lift
above earth gaining
altitude with each spirit
leap pogo bouncing
out of sight
leaving only my vision
of you behind.
HAM GRATITUDE
Cass, are you roasting Thanksgiving turkey? Ham for me, after last year’s disaster. I thought it was just me—hadn’t brined the bird enough? I cooked giblets, stuffed and put turkey in oven, figured roasting time; meat thermometer ready. All the side dishes. Set table. Checked the bird. Nowhere near done. More heat. More time. How about raw turkey for Thanksgiving? Side dishes are pretty good without. I told you my sad tale, you told me yours. Turkey didn’t roast right. Son-in-law carved the bird; sharpened knife slipped off the marble breast, sliced his wrist instead. Blood all over festive tablecloth. Thanksgiving at ER. You and I laughed till we cried over turkey disaster.
Who knows if tears are
woe or funny. I like ham
better anyway.
IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK
Why must they start playing Christmas
carols before Thanksgiving and the end of fall
colors? Setting the mood for votive candles
and holiday shopping, I guess, as I hum along,
negotiating switchbacks above canyon—
the digestive gut of this mountain. Sudden
squeal of brakes, someone doesn’t know
the tricks of the grade. “Silver Bells” segues
into “Angels We Have Heard on High”
and there’s a hang-glider working his wings
on updrafts under string-of-pearl clouds.
Keep my eyes on the road, my mind
in gear: tentative and flexible.
PEARL IN THE WOODPILE
Is it possible? occulted in
a crevice between punky log and
woodshed—is it some autumn fungus
species you’ve never met before? Or
did a spell—magician practicing
his art—conjure it here? How did you
happen to find it? Premonition?
Were you just fetching wood for the fire?
Do you dare touch it, or might it be
poison? If you’re sure it’s a pearl, give
it the tooth test. If you’re not that sure,
better leave it in the dark and see
if it grows and multiplies more pearls.
CINDER DREAMS
There was an old torcher who’d sleep
on a plank in the fireplace deep.
“There’s cinders up there,
they gets in my hair,
that’s the dregs of an old chimneysweep.”
VERSE ON THE WISHING TREE
It’s us against the wind again—
I’m bundled up as if for snow
and keep a good grip on my pen.
And how the ridgetop wind will blow.
We write our verse on paper scraps,
we let the inspiration flow.
They’re not immortal words, perhaps—
and how the ridgetop wind will blow.
And now our poems, wishes, lines
we tie on branches high and low.
And how they dance in gay designs,
and how the ridgetop wind will blow.
It’s us against the wind again
and how the ridgetop wind will blow!
Today’s LittleNip:
PEARL IN THE SKY
—Taylor Graham
Dog-walk time, it’s winter cold.
See how she shines with no diamond-
glitter but a pearl’s soft warm glow—
the Goat Star, Capella.
___________________
Happy Day-After Thanksgiving—TG poems by TG (Taylor Graham), who sends us pearls today, responding to last Tuesday’s Seed of the Week. She has also spoken to us in forms, including a Haibun (“Ham Gratitude”); Normative Syllabics (“Pearl in the Woodpile”); a Ryūka (“Pearl in the Sky”); a Limerick (“Cinder Dreams”); and a Kyrielle Sonnet, one of last week’s Triple-F challenges (“Verse on The Wishing Tree”). TG’s “Wishing Tree” tells of poetry written at last week’s Wakamatsu Farm’s Open Farm Day; for more photos of that day, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/.
And now it’s time for . . .
Form Fiddlers' Friday!
There’s also a newly dusted-off 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. Got any more resources to add to our list? Send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com for the benefit of all man/woman/poetkind!
One of our challenges last week was the Sedoka, and Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) sent us a chain of ‘em, which he’s calling a Sedoka Train:
ANOMALIES, ANONYMOUS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
when we harvest some
energy in on place, does
that deplete energy elsewhere?
is there a creature
or plant life that can sense an
electromagnetic change?
***
are polar caps and
tectonic movements somehow
related to each other?
is common bonding
of electromagnetic force
disrupted by strange events?
* * *
Claire Baker sent us a pearl of a Pantoum based on the Tuesday Seed of the Week, Pearls:
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
when we harvest some
energy in on place, does
that deplete energy elsewhere?
is there a creature
or plant life that can sense an
electromagnetic change?
***
are polar caps and
tectonic movements somehow
related to each other?
is common bonding
of electromagnetic force
disrupted by strange events?
* * *
Claire Baker sent us a pearl of a Pantoum based on the Tuesday Seed of the Week, Pearls:
MOTHER’S COCKTAIL PEARLS WORN
AS SPOUSE OF AMERICAN DIPLOMAT
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
I wear my mother’s double strand of pearls
gifted me three weeks before she passed.
I wish I knew the stories they could tell.
Gritty sand specks. Are they prone to listen?
Given me some weeks before mom left us,
I cherish them, all cultured, charismatic.
Pearls begin as sand grains meant to listen
to what they overhear, so close to ears?
I cherish my keepsake’s lustrous charisma.
My mother, pretty, blonde and creamy skinned,
wore black for parties, pearls not far from ears;
Germanic families bathed their girls in milk
for blondness, for skin tones tinted creamy.
At cocktail parties, she would sip and listen
while wealthy Germans bathed young girls in milk.
If tipsy Russians bragged in slipshod French;
at cocktail parties, she would sip and listen:
some Russian diplomats once circled closely;
drunken, they bragged of feats in flimsy French
that, when sober, they would never utter.
Gifted me three weeks before she passed,
I know this double strand has harbored secrets
in specks of sand, grown pearls now prone to listen.
The clasp clicks tight, I wear mom’s mystery pearls.
* * *
AS SPOUSE OF AMERICAN DIPLOMAT
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
I wear my mother’s double strand of pearls
gifted me three weeks before she passed.
I wish I knew the stories they could tell.
Gritty sand specks. Are they prone to listen?
Given me some weeks before mom left us,
I cherish them, all cultured, charismatic.
Pearls begin as sand grains meant to listen
to what they overhear, so close to ears?
I cherish my keepsake’s lustrous charisma.
My mother, pretty, blonde and creamy skinned,
wore black for parties, pearls not far from ears;
Germanic families bathed their girls in milk
for blondness, for skin tones tinted creamy.
At cocktail parties, she would sip and listen
while wealthy Germans bathed young girls in milk.
If tipsy Russians bragged in slipshod French;
at cocktail parties, she would sip and listen:
some Russian diplomats once circled closely;
drunken, they bragged of feats in flimsy French
that, when sober, they would never utter.
Gifted me three weeks before she passed,
I know this double strand has harbored secrets
in specks of sand, grown pearls now prone to listen.
The clasp clicks tight, I wear mom’s mystery pearls.
* * *
And here is an Ars Poetica from Stephen Kingsnorth on the pains of submitting poems for possible publication:
BINGO
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
As if a lotto board engaged,
without cash prize or laughter raised.
Not a good fit, the present time,
the next, and the one after that;
ten minutes last, though check again,
Submittable, unchanged its tune,
prospective journal, presses died.
Past promised publication date,
enjoyed your work, cut, paste again,
parenthesis, mind-reading games,
write any style (but not your own).
It is not luck that chooses House,
its furniture, the former guests,
to recognise rejection slips,
composed by writers, past ingrained;
the dread of midwife, news to share,
delivered, still-birth, motherhood.
Some shuttered image, open frame,
a patterned dress or sculpted shape,
as environs prints eroteme,
from sole debate what soul creates.
When site accepts, the tenth attempt—
assumed they must print anything—
or do I send them everything,
what means something, submit, though poor.
The treasure stored in box through years,
erupted into line and phrase,
unless the stranger finds a friend
on fallow ground, rotated crops.
___________________
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!
___________________
TRIPLE-F CHALLENGES!
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
As if a lotto board engaged,
without cash prize or laughter raised.
Not a good fit, the present time,
the next, and the one after that;
ten minutes last, though check again,
Submittable, unchanged its tune,
prospective journal, presses died.
Past promised publication date,
enjoyed your work, cut, paste again,
parenthesis, mind-reading games,
write any style (but not your own).
It is not luck that chooses House,
its furniture, the former guests,
to recognise rejection slips,
composed by writers, past ingrained;
the dread of midwife, news to share,
delivered, still-birth, motherhood.
Some shuttered image, open frame,
a patterned dress or sculpted shape,
as environs prints eroteme,
from sole debate what soul creates.
When site accepts, the tenth attempt—
assumed they must print anything—
or do I send them everything,
what means something, submit, though poor.
The treasure stored in box through years,
erupted into line and phrase,
unless the stranger finds a friend
on fallow ground, rotated crops.
___________________
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!
___________________
TRIPLE-F CHALLENGES!
•••Kirsch’s Sonnet: https://blog.prepscholar.com/types-of-sonnets
AND/OR try a Swap Quatrain:
•••Swap Quatrain: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/swapquatrain.html
AND/OR an Amphion:
•••Amphion: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/amphion
•••See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic Photo.
•••And don’t forget each Tuesday’s Seed of the Week! This week it’s “Faith”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Amphion: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/amphion
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Kirsch’s Sonnet: https://blog.prepscholar.com/types-of-sonnets
•••Kyrielle Sonnet: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/kyriellesonnet.htm
•••Limerick: poets.org/glossary/limerick
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Pantoum: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/pantoum.html
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Sedoka: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/sedoka.html
•••Swap Quatrain: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/swapquatrain.html
For more about meter, see:
•••www.studiobinder.com/blog/what-is-iambic-pentameter-definition-literature
•••www.pandorapost.com/2021/05/examples-of-iambic-pentameter-tetrameter-and-trimeter-in-poetry.html
•••nosweatshakespeare.com/sonnets/iambic-pentameter
•••www.thoughtco.com/introducing-iambic-pentameter-2985082
•••www.nfi.edu/iambic-pentameter
____________________
—Medusa
Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
See what you can make of the above
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
***
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
For upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
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.
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
in the links at the top of this page.
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.
