—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday with poetry from
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Cynthia Bernard and Claire J. Baker
IN CHARCOAL
Winter after wildfire. We drove to edge of burn scar, parked and started walking—dog leading the way as if remembering back before scent of char. Silence broken by just one raven. No traffic, no fences, no people. Dog off leash, free finding the way among skeleton pine and cedar. Free as stepping through desolation and beyond, new forest biding its time—
pine nut and acorn,
fireweed seed-fluff on the wind—
cool breath hinting rain
Winter after wildfire. We drove to edge of burn scar, parked and started walking—dog leading the way as if remembering back before scent of char. Silence broken by just one raven. No traffic, no fences, no people. Dog off leash, free finding the way among skeleton pine and cedar. Free as stepping through desolation and beyond, new forest biding its time—
pine nut and acorn,
fireweed seed-fluff on the wind—
cool breath hinting rain
FULL WORM MOON
I’m one more shadow
tellurian in moonlight
limning bare oak limbs—
a giant tree standing firm
as I fetch wood for the stove.
I’m one more shadow
tellurian in moonlight
limning bare oak limbs—
a giant tree standing firm
as I fetch wood for the stove.
MURAL AT THE PARK
Carver’s Park Mural, acrylic paint on wall
—Demetrius Alexander Faw
Carver’s Park Mural, acrylic paint on wall
—Demetrius Alexander Faw
Greenery forms the portals, what used to be forest
cleared to free the way for travel—land floating
on water, continents separating from ocean,
waves giving and taking back; mountains snow-
capped imitating white-caps about to melt downslope
yearning to return to sea, fluidity of the circle;
every element pressing its boundaries,
seeking freedom from the wall we think of as
immutable, though it’s capped with a hoop for leaps
and high shots.
Skateboard in hand, a boy appraises this landscape
for possible flight.
MAKING HIS ROUNDS
for the Rev. Charles Caleb Peirce
He sets out on foot, his old suitcase heavy
with books. A salesman, you might say. Books
on all manner of subjects to spark the mind
with learning. His return trip will be lightened,
and the folks he meets along the way enlightened
by his goods. Above the river he pauses,
hearing hoofbeats, and wheels bouncing on hard-
pan. He steps off the path to let the wagon pass.
Instead, it stops. The driver calls down
an invitation to climb aboard. But he declines
with a smile. “My Master walked, why should I
ride?” Opening his suitcase, he offers the man
a volume of his choice. Will the driver reach
for A System of Modern Geography? With such
a book a man can travel free, much farther
than horse and wagon could take him.
The preacher bids his new friend Godspeed
and continues on his path on foot,
rejoicing in the psalms of birds seen and—
maybe the sweetest—unseen.
for the Rev. Charles Caleb Peirce
He sets out on foot, his old suitcase heavy
with books. A salesman, you might say. Books
on all manner of subjects to spark the mind
with learning. His return trip will be lightened,
and the folks he meets along the way enlightened
by his goods. Above the river he pauses,
hearing hoofbeats, and wheels bouncing on hard-
pan. He steps off the path to let the wagon pass.
Instead, it stops. The driver calls down
an invitation to climb aboard. But he declines
with a smile. “My Master walked, why should I
ride?” Opening his suitcase, he offers the man
a volume of his choice. Will the driver reach
for A System of Modern Geography? With such
a book a man can travel free, much farther
than horse and wagon could take him.
The preacher bids his new friend Godspeed
and continues on his path on foot,
rejoicing in the psalms of birds seen and—
maybe the sweetest—unseen.
ON A RAINY DAY
Oh what could be more exciting
than having writ
an Irish Decnad? Song of bird
just heard—Bushtit!
Oh what could be more exciting
than having writ
an Irish Decnad? Song of bird
just heard—Bushtit!
FREE DREAMING
All night she dreams of the journey—the leave-
takings assuming she’ll come back from there
and how good it feels, beyond the last eve
riding with free wind unfurling her hair.
And where is she going? Does it matter?
Loping over fields unfenced, so it seems,
as clouds and days and small birds scatter,
the journey never ending in her dreams.
All night she dreams of the journey—the leave-
takings assuming she’ll come back from there
and how good it feels, beyond the last eve
riding with free wind unfurling her hair.
And where is she going? Does it matter?
Loping over fields unfenced, so it seems,
as clouds and days and small birds scatter,
the journey never ending in her dreams.
Today’s LittleNip:
WATER SPORT
—Taylor Graham
Will we still have a road to drive
after the flood is done?
It made a lake
for sporting’s sake—
I think the water won.
____________________
Luck o’ the Irish to you on this St. Patrick’s Day, 2023, as Taylor Graham and our other esteemed poets join us for Form Fiddlers’ Friday! And thanks to TG for her poetry and photos. Poetry forms she has used include a Haibun (“In Charcoal”); an Ekphrastic Poem (“Mural at the Park”); a Tanka (“Full Worm Moon”); some Rhymed Quatrains (“Free Dreaming”); an Irish Decnad Cummaisc (“On a Rainy Day”); and a Donna (“Water Sport”).
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 Taylor Graham (see above) as well as Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth:
Your hands
don’t lie, they advertise
your mood, your thoughts,
unlike your mouth
that spouts untruths
whenever you are caught.
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
* * *
HANDSOME
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
A dustup, fist fight, knuckle bones,
thumbs up, a Colosseum rite;
why do they come out of the blue,
and we feel left out on a limb?
When signals handed, on a plate,
should we have learnt, been more prepared,
pre-read the index, know our place,
found charted course prescribed before?
What context, culture of these signs,
as stylised print, accoutrements,
lead pencil, smoke stick, bottled beer—
as if in common currency?
Perspective’s executed well,
though muscle swells seem prominent
so tend to overwhelm their place,
while charcoal shade tends overplayed.
But why unite disparate rôles,
limp handshake, wordsmith, leisure times,
surf horns, directions, spelling casts,
palms read as nailed variety?
Hang loose as waving Shaka sign,
for not all cuffed by rolled up sleeves;
but at arms’ length we see the scene,
digitalised, at finger tips.
These disembodied amputees,
hand-some—not all, note—I opine
better forearmed, whole body seen,
its posture, stance. face, screen revealed.
Is it a welcome, or affront,
to show or bar the way ahead,
a threat or order (for a beer?),
for even scribing shopping list?
But what is missing is the pulse,
a beating heart that proves this art—
you see the writing on the wall—
but moving, having writ, moves on?
Who is driven by this—what?
Revision for the medic, not.
Dumb, if speaks guidance for the deaf?
Exhibit, class, how not to draw?
* * *
Cynthia Bernard is a new visitor to the Kitchen, and welcome to you, Cynthia! She has sent us a Villanelle and a Triolet. Tune into the Kitchen tomorrow for more of Cynthia’s poetry:
HALF THE NIGHT
—Cynthia Bernard, South of San Francisco, CA
My stomach isn’t working right.
Bubbles, gurgles, twinges and sighs
Kept me up for half the night.
I’ve got hives too, quite a sight—
Neck, belly, all over my thighs.
My skin just isn’t working right.
Aching and stiffness are my plight;
Take my meds, don’t eat those fries.
They kept me up for half the night.
Silvering hair could be a delight
If I were searching for a disguise.
(It’s clear my thoughts aren’t working right.)
Crinkly skin is another blight.
Wondering what else will arise
To keep me up for half the night.
Yes, growing older can be a fright—
At the end, will there be a prize?
Meanwhile I’ll sit here and write
While I’m up for half the night.
(An earlier version of this poem was published in
Flora Fiction, Fall 2022.)
* * *
—Cynthia Bernard, South of San Francisco, CA
My stomach isn’t working right.
Bubbles, gurgles, twinges and sighs
Kept me up for half the night.
I’ve got hives too, quite a sight—
Neck, belly, all over my thighs.
My skin just isn’t working right.
Aching and stiffness are my plight;
Take my meds, don’t eat those fries.
They kept me up for half the night.
Silvering hair could be a delight
If I were searching for a disguise.
(It’s clear my thoughts aren’t working right.)
Crinkly skin is another blight.
Wondering what else will arise
To keep me up for half the night.
Yes, growing older can be a fright—
At the end, will there be a prize?
Meanwhile I’ll sit here and write
While I’m up for half the night.
(An earlier version of this poem was published in
Flora Fiction, Fall 2022.)
* * *
YUMMY TRIOLET
—Cynthia Bernard
Chocolate ice cream melts in my mouth,
sweeter for being forbidden.
Never keep such treats in the house.
Chocolate ice cream, it melts—my mouth!
My diet plans have just gone south;
this digression must be hidden.
Chocolate… Ice cream melts in my mouth,
sweeter for being forbidden.
* * *
Here's a Stepping Stone poem from Claire Baker using not six, but seven lines. Well, she can do that, can’t she, seeing as how it’s her form (her football, as it were…):
—Cynthia Bernard
Chocolate ice cream melts in my mouth,
sweeter for being forbidden.
Never keep such treats in the house.
Chocolate ice cream, it melts—my mouth!
My diet plans have just gone south;
this digression must be hidden.
Chocolate… Ice cream melts in my mouth,
sweeter for being forbidden.
* * *
Here's a Stepping Stone poem from Claire Baker using not six, but seven lines. Well, she can do that, can’t she, seeing as how it’s her form (her football, as it were…):
RIVERS IN THE SKY
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
This
evening
two headlights
on weaving car
reflect in wet road
not as yet swift river
but icy by the nightfall.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth has sent an Ars Poetica, this one about letting your poem cool before you pronounce it done:
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
This
evening
two headlights
on weaving car
reflect in wet road
not as yet swift river
but icy by the nightfall.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth has sent an Ars Poetica, this one about letting your poem cool before you pronounce it done:
YIELD
—Stephen Kingsnorth
You know, like dough, a verse needs rest,
before again you wrestle words,
or like a smith you hammer, beat,
to smash the molten into shape.
Now does it sizzle, tip dipped, cool,
or maybe back to furnace heat,
avoid pig-iron, brittle work,
when best is wrought through sweated toil?
If horse to ride its shoes must fit—
when hanging on the stable door,
if luck to hold, the cup side up,
unless its bolted, lettuce crop.
I never know the course it takes,
from metal gate with serif curls,
to furlong race—watch betting slip—
or veggie patch that’s gone to seed?
Our scribe needs space, that yeast ferments,
and time to prove, for crust or slump—
as musing, rise through mystery,
as rising, muse on secrecy.
Though flatbreads have their uses too;
unleavened, signifies a feast.
So who can tell, the poet’s yield,
in giving way, or fruitful field?
___________________
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!
•••Seadna: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/seadna-poetic-forms
AND/OR, after all that work, something simpler—maybe a Hay(na)ku:
•••Hay(na)ku: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/haynaku.htm
•••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 “Home Sweet Home”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Decnad Cummaisc: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/dechnad-cummaisc-poetic-forms
•••Donna: https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1882-syllabic-forms-found-in-pathways-for-the-poet
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Hay(na)ku: http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/haynaku.htm
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples
•••Seadna: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/seadna-poetic-forms
•••Stepping Stones (Claire J. Baker): Syllables 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••Triolet: www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/triolet-an-easy-way-to-write-8-lines-of-poetry
•••Villanelle (rhymed; can be unrhymed): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-forms-villanelle
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
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.
