—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to Form Fiddlers’ Friday,
with poetry from Joe Nolan, Nolcha Fox, and
Stephen Kingsnorth
MAKING DO AT HOME
If it were warm and sunny, this
might be the perfect morning—sun
glittering frost, flash of the red
towhee’s arrow-tip tail-feathers
as she streaks to her hideaway
in the rock roses—no roses,
it’s still winter. Bird-app on phone
records woodpecker, nuthatch, finch,
bluebird, phoebe. In a perfect
morning their songs would penetrate
tinnitus, and my eyes could see
those birds. They stay undercover.
And look at me, bundled against
cold, but amazed at all this life.
If it were warm and sunny, this
might be the perfect morning—sun
glittering frost, flash of the red
towhee’s arrow-tip tail-feathers
as she streaks to her hideaway
in the rock roses—no roses,
it’s still winter. Bird-app on phone
records woodpecker, nuthatch, finch,
bluebird, phoebe. In a perfect
morning their songs would penetrate
tinnitus, and my eyes could see
those birds. They stay undercover.
And look at me, bundled against
cold, but amazed at all this life.
NOT YET ONE WITH NATURE
I
walk outside,
three deer vanish.
Oaks
wince at
me with firewood.
Pray
for rain,
dam the flood?
I
walk outside,
three deer vanish.
Oaks
wince at
me with firewood.
Pray
for rain,
dam the flood?
AFTER WEEKS OF RAIN
I come wandering our pasture,
presently to spring and grow
lush for my weed-eater mornings
as I meander and mow.
HOME SWEET HOME
Hanging bird feeders fly past the window—
laughter on TV & thunderclaps outdoors—
Come to the RV show the TV says—
little creek’s gouging out our driveway,
there goes the TV signal, & Wifi—
we’re cozy with woodstove—
outside, the oaks are waving like goodbye—
the lights do a flicker-pulse—
it’s just ourselves, our books & batteries—
the wind and the rain.
Hanging bird feeders fly past the window—
laughter on TV & thunderclaps outdoors—
Come to the RV show the TV says—
little creek’s gouging out our driveway,
there goes the TV signal, & Wifi—
we’re cozy with woodstove—
outside, the oaks are waving like goodbye—
the lights do a flicker-pulse—
it’s just ourselves, our books & batteries—
the wind and the rain.
MYSTERIES OF UNDERGROUND
Who buried this bulb? shallow or deep,
kitty-corner to the big oak with its burrows
to underworld, a maze of tunnels.
Imagine rodents at home-sweet-home,
tables, benches, bunks invoking
long winter’s naps for indigenous ground
squirrels getting even with us human
intruders by eating my garden and stealing
my bulbs. This lone daffodil suddenly
blossoming a golden sun out of storm
and the foggy doldrums.
THE MUSE IN WINTER
She left no prints in snow,
no depression
on the seat of what I call her chair
at edge of winter grass and oaks
and rock heap—flakes sifting
cold inspiration on lips and fingertips.
Is this a day to stay inside
typing black letters on white page?
She’s out walking, letting
snow fall as it will in her footprints
Still, there’s always the chance
of a chance encounter with the Muse,
but only if she freely choose.
She left no prints in snow,
no depression
on the seat of what I call her chair
at edge of winter grass and oaks
and rock heap—flakes sifting
cold inspiration on lips and fingertips.
Is this a day to stay inside
typing black letters on white page?
She’s out walking, letting
snow fall as it will in her footprints
Still, there’s always the chance
of a chance encounter with the Muse,
but only if she freely choose.
Today’s LittleNip:
ST. PATRICK’S DAY
—Taylor Graham
A
four leaf
clover? I
just saw miners
lettuce and ate a
bunch, not counting the leaves.
Does that bring me the day’s luck?
_____________________
Good morning, and welcome to mushroom season—this year’s rains have brought their blooms out in force! A conversation about mycelia has been going on in the Kitchen, started by Cynthia Bernard last Saturday, and Taylor Graham has continued it with her photos. Forms she has used include Normative Syllabics (“Making Do at Home”); an Ars Poetica (“The Muse in Winter”); a List Poem (“Home Sweet Home”); a Word-Can Poem (“Mysteries of Underground”); a Seadna (“After Weeks of Rain”); Stepping Stones (“St. Patrick's Day”); and a Hay(na)ku chain (“Not Yet One With Nature”). The Seadna and the Hay(na)ku were Triple-F Challenges last week.
Speaking of Placerville, Poetry of the Sierra Foothills will present Alice Pettway and Lara Gularte, plus open mic, in Camino this Sunday, 2pm. And today is the deadline for the City of Modesto’s Poet’s Corner Contest for all residents of all ages in Stanislaus County. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
For more info about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry or see El Dorado County Poet Laureate Lara Gularte’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/.
And check out yesterday’s article about Sacramento Poet Laureate Andru Defeye in yesterday’s Sacramento Bee at https://www.sacbee.com/entertainment/arts-culture/article272636752.html/.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
ST. PATRICK’S DAY
—Taylor Graham
A
four leaf
clover? I
just saw miners
lettuce and ate a
bunch, not counting the leaves.
Does that bring me the day’s luck?
_____________________
Good morning, and welcome to mushroom season—this year’s rains have brought their blooms out in force! A conversation about mycelia has been going on in the Kitchen, started by Cynthia Bernard last Saturday, and Taylor Graham has continued it with her photos. Forms she has used include Normative Syllabics (“Making Do at Home”); an Ars Poetica (“The Muse in Winter”); a List Poem (“Home Sweet Home”); a Word-Can Poem (“Mysteries of Underground”); a Seadna (“After Weeks of Rain”); Stepping Stones (“St. Patrick's Day”); and a Hay(na)ku chain (“Not Yet One With Nature”). The Seadna and the Hay(na)ku were Triple-F Challenges last week.
Speaking of Placerville, Poetry of the Sierra Foothills will present Alice Pettway and Lara Gularte, plus open mic, in Camino this Sunday, 2pm. And today is the deadline for the City of Modesto’s Poet’s Corner Contest for all residents of all ages in Stanislaus County. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
For more info about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry or see El Dorado County Poet Laureate Lara Gularte’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/.
And check out yesterday’s article about Sacramento Poet Laureate Andru Defeye in yesterday’s Sacramento Bee at https://www.sacbee.com/entertainment/arts-culture/article272636752.html/.
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!
Last Week’s Ekphrastic Photo
We had responses to last week’s Ekphrastic Photo from Joe Nolan, Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth:
BEAUTIFUL FINS
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
What beautiful fins you have!
Longer than any others I’ve known,
All the better to swim below.
What lovely legs you have!
Perfect to swish your flexing fins
Through water
Underneath the waves
Where water-creatures go.
Is that a mask you’re wearing?
What beauty lies beneath?
If your legs are any clue,
It’s easy to fall in love
With you.
* * *
You risk
it all to climb the peaks,
to jump from planes,
to swim the depths.
Why not explore
the caverns
of your soul
that you abhor?
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
* * *
FLAPPER FLIP
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
Think gannets, dippers and the king,
but few have mastery of three,
earth, air, water territory.
Some branch out, kids when climbing trees,
as others paddle, take a dip;
but mountaineers—they scale the peaks,
as Jacques Cousteau, though plunged in deep,
or smaller scale, this flapper flip.
It’s gaping mouth and gulping gills,—
fish out of water. That it is.
They’re not unlike the ashen faced,
when public speaking not their grace.
The caterpillar sees, surveys,
but knows that flying’s not for them—
just not until they earn their wings,
then have the tools to think again.
Me, I’m not thrown, orate, debate,
or making speeches—with a script?
But you’ll not find me climbing rock,
or abseiling—fast coming down;
but worse than that, beneath the waves—
of even sail above the same.
It’s hot steam bath more to my taste,
not chlorine drink in swimming pools.
So I see sea, seashells she sells—
you’ll not find me beyond that shore.
We use it as a dumping ground—
scene out of sight and would-be mind;
it’s undermined our own earth’s store,
and draws more, drilling under bed,
for sleepless nights as through a wake.
As poorest stewards of the land,
both underneath and up above,
or sea and air, suicide watch,
it seems our touch is Midas fooled.
So I’m landlocked. For now at least.
Though anchor chain is rusting here
and I fear floating from this sphere,
but will I breathe, monoxide air?
* * *
And a response poem from Stephen Kingsnorth about the Mycelia conversation:
BELOW AND BEYOND
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Pyrites pirates undermine
the scape of land above, before,
where beneath knolls, gorse thicket bush,
there secret networks riddle maze.
Disguised by chartreuse fields of herds
with drystone walls, dividing lines,
beyond the mycorrhiza reach,
lie tunnel hulks in deep shaft mines
strut, ribcages, long fallen props,
shipwrecks bedded, once under sea,
forgotten seams, where shovels, picks,
canaries, once pit ponies streamed.
* * *
And with this Ars Poetica, Stephen mourns rejection by editors. Ah, well, we’ve all been there...
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Pyrites pirates undermine
the scape of land above, before,
where beneath knolls, gorse thicket bush,
there secret networks riddle maze.
Disguised by chartreuse fields of herds
with drystone walls, dividing lines,
beyond the mycorrhiza reach,
lie tunnel hulks in deep shaft mines
strut, ribcages, long fallen props,
shipwrecks bedded, once under sea,
forgotten seams, where shovels, picks,
canaries, once pit ponies streamed.
* * *
And with this Ars Poetica, Stephen mourns rejection by editors. Ah, well, we’ve all been there...
DECEASED
—Stephen Kingsnorth
I think the pattern’s as with grief,
four stages told me on the couch,
the reeling, shock and disbelief,
though waves that buffet stand, too real.
For me it’s worse than curt dismiss,
guest editor says nearly there,
but title does not fit our stance,
yet knowing limits, best is here.
And thus my wrath, not there again,
I’ll cross them off my Christmas list;
I was a fool to think that home,
the glasshouse where my fruit might bloom,
for now their pruning cut the stock.
It was their fault—our theme but guide,
though now they say not close enough.
But easier I come to terms,
the currents, mag, so far from style,
so pointless to submit again.
Deceased the opportunity,
flag red alert, slash next intent,
in bolder caps, CEASE carmine mark,
That’s how I deal with hand I’m dealt,
a calm response to feelings flayed.
I guess it’s healing of a sort—
that’s not the site to place my work,
their menu, other appetites.
It’s like the Crem, lead garden path,
the casket, ashes, underground,
both out of sight yet in my mind—
The risen dough, now rest awhile,
but hope to meet, some hallowed ground,
though not, where now, I fear to tread.
_____________________
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
I think the pattern’s as with grief,
four stages told me on the couch,
the reeling, shock and disbelief,
though waves that buffet stand, too real.
For me it’s worse than curt dismiss,
guest editor says nearly there,
but title does not fit our stance,
yet knowing limits, best is here.
And thus my wrath, not there again,
I’ll cross them off my Christmas list;
I was a fool to think that home,
the glasshouse where my fruit might bloom,
for now their pruning cut the stock.
It was their fault—our theme but guide,
though now they say not close enough.
But easier I come to terms,
the currents, mag, so far from style,
so pointless to submit again.
Deceased the opportunity,
flag red alert, slash next intent,
in bolder caps, CEASE carmine mark,
That’s how I deal with hand I’m dealt,
a calm response to feelings flayed.
I guess it’s healing of a sort—
that’s not the site to place my work,
their menu, other appetites.
It’s like the Crem, lead garden path,
the casket, ashes, underground,
both out of sight yet in my mind—
The risen dough, now rest awhile,
but hope to meet, some hallowed ground,
though not, where now, I fear to tread.
_____________________
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!
See what you can make of this week’s poetry forms, and send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) We’re tackling some of the Irish poetry forms that are listed by Robert Lee Brewer in Writer’s Digest:
•••Ae Freislighe: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/ae-freislighe-poetic-form
AND/OR the Anapeat:
•••Anapeat: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/anapeat
•••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 “Pick Your Battles”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ae Freislighe: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/ae-freislighe-poetic-form
•••Anapeat: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/anapeat
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Hay(na)ku: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/haynaku.htm
•••List Poem: clpe.org.uk/poetryline/poeticforms/list-poem
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Seadna: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/seadna-poetic-forms
•••Stepping Stones (Claire J. Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (7, etc.)
•••Word-Can Poem: putting random words on slips of paper into a can, then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them.
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
See what you can make of today's puzzling
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.
