Journeys Etched in Stone

 

—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA

—And then scroll down to

Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!

 

 

 

SIERRA WHISPER

We come here
for high mountain air—crisp, clear,
gathered in water ice-blue.
True,

a quiver
in green aspen leaves, shiver
of August wind’s warning call:
Fall. 

 

 

 

 

A FIND

I’m trying out my new battery-op trimmer
on late-winter green—new grass, and Indian lettuce
raising its green hearts to sky—
What’s that? A shiny golden fungus?
crusted with dirt from pushing to the surface.
Turn off machine, kneel down
to examine. A doorknob?!
left by folks who came before us and outstayed
their stint on earth. It must have erupted
of natural causes, like fungi and rock
from underground.
Is a door attached? a door,
like Alice’s mirror, to Wonderland?
Now I’m scrabbling thru living green and topsoil.
Is there a key? What’s down there?
Artifact stone etched with man’s history,
or maybe magic characters? unicorns and griffins?
or just hardpan and bedrock?
A seer might tell me.
But there’s so much native everyday
growing green in plain sight to deal with…. 

 

 

 

 

 

BELOW SNOWLINE

Monochrome cloud drifts low,
the forecast storm comes slow
turning small rain to snow
clean, soft, and white.

We’ll just watch through the glass
as blossom-size flakes pass
and sky silvers the grass—
this brief delight.

 

 

 

 

DREAMING STONE

In
last night’s
dreaming, birds
in formation
perched on a power
line, motionless as if
turned to stone. Crazy-striped deer
charged thru the thicket. Stone couch sat
by the road, chairs facing. Couch cushions:
three grave markers carved in stone. Don’t sit down. 

 

 

 

 

NOTHING WRITTEN IN STONE

Public Safety Power Shutoff canceled the event.
What’s a poetry reading without electricity?
We met at a picnic table in the dark.
Flashlights, LED lanterns, and Lucy lights.
Books of poems, binders, 1st drafts.
Faces half-lit around the table.
Lines of verse held us together.
What’s poetry but making light in the dark? 

 

 

 

 

THE MUSE NAPPING

Yes, her eyes are closed—tired
of looking so hard and deep into what-
ever needs to be a poem.
Is she asleep, here on a mossy rock?
Imagine twitching muscles and synapses
connecting things you didn’t think
belonged together—something
almost forgotten, given up long ago
as lost, something as simple
but rare as love, or peace, or joy.
Has her snooze burrowed
into secrets of the stone she lies on?
In the nick of a nap
she’ll open her eyes to find it. 

 

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

THIS ONE ROCK
—Taylor Graham

Run my fingers over the rough
face of this rock balanced atop
others sheltering the fox-den,
its journeys etched in stone.

____________________

Thank-you to Taylor Graham for today’s poetry as she celebrates Sierra foothill living, including our recent Seed of the Weed: Etched in Stone. Forms she has used today include a Deibide Baise Fri Toin (“Sierra Whisper”); an Ars Poetica (“The Muse Napping”); a Word-Can Poem (“A Find”); a Ryūka (“This One Rock”); an Etheree (“Dreaming Stone”); a List Poem (“Nothing Written in Stone”); and a Violette (“Below Snowline”). The Deibide Baise Fri Toin and the Violette were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.

 

We have poems today by Taylor Graham and Katy Brown (see below for Katy's); these two poets will be facilitating another Wakamatsu workshop on March 12, so be sure to sign up. Details can be found on the UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS link at the top of this column. For more info about El Dorado County poetry events, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/. Check it out for some photos and poetry from previous Wakamatsu workshops. El Dorado County Poet Laureate Lara Gularte also has a Facebook page to announce poetry events and all things poetic in the county. See www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/.

And now it’s time for…  


FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!    

 

It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! Each Friday, there will be poems posted here from our readers using forms—either ones which were sent to 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 challenges—  Whaddaya got to lose… ? If you send ‘em, I’ll post ‘em! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for resources and for links to poetry terms used in today’s post.)


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

 

Stephen Kingsnorth sent a response to last week’s Ekphrastic photo, and two more were sent by Nolcha Fox:


PLOT
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

Is this plot as scene before—
day sum grey but now at night;
setts in alley, seams the same—
slabs of damp, slight side incline,
slime slide, vague slope, never soap,
tempting shortcut, risk worthwhile?

Lamplight shines too bright for moon—
settling, midpoint, narrow street,
as through pyramid aperture,
not calculated, such a route—
fixed as glow suggests below,
screwed to perpendicular?

Would night walkers frame the same,
upright despite proof imbibed,
stalkers trailing in the gloom,
enterprise, joint exercise,
engaging with the unprepared,
laid low where the walls, a spire?

But who, poor choices, is found here,
who, no option, grounded fear,
shades of former victims sneer;
who predicts, unless a seer,
less my reading, view unclear—
can another lend their steer?

* * *

Sleepless nights

skulk through citrus-lit alleys
splashing through teardrop puddles
reflecting regrets.

—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

* * *

Romance waits

in rain, around the corner
backlit golden, crushing ciggies
with her heels. wondering
why you’re late.

—Nolcha Fox

* * *

Last Monday’s post ended with this photo of a Goodyear blimp, and Stephen Kingsnorth was moved to write this Ekphrastic poem about it:

 

 

 

 

FLYING A KITE
—Stephen Kingsnorth

We celebrate, as with balloons,
fun floating in a cloudless sky,
though brewing storms may spoil the views,
a barrage form against attack.

But rubber can been turned to sieve,
as lose the anchor, holding fast,
‘don’t shoot’ may sound imperative,
yet down below its message counts.

Good years are not so guaranteed,
whatever brand is advertised,
for flaming heat marked ships before
despite their claiming future, prized.

Sometimes a kite tests best laid plans,
when head winds blow us off our course;
don’t shoot the messenger, despite
the spinner, sticky wicket plays?

* * *

Here is a Verso-Rhyme (with a twist, she says) from Katy Brown, based on Taylor Graham’s recent—and current—theme of spring:

 

 

 

 

SPRING’S DELIGHT
—Katy Brown, Davis, CA
 
Now Spring tells the season
return to us
with white almond blossoms
and lush green growth
with hyacinths and bees
and clover leaves
and bright pollen enough
to make us sneeze!

* * *

Carl Schwartz says, “Here is a Haibun that reflects the opposite of ‘etched in stone’”, our recent Seed of the Week:

 

 

 

 

RISE AND FALL
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

hope rises eternal
leaves fall
while we
wait in
line to
sit
and
enjoy
pivotal
motions:

see-saws
stock markets,
roller coasters,
price shopping,
love and marriage,
political campaigns,
sports competitions

we seasoned sailors
shun terra ferma, the sea
is our rocking chair

* * *

And an Ars Poetica from Stephen Kingsnorth:

 

 

 

 

A POET’S TOOLS
—Stephen Kingsnorth

I did not know her, here laid out,
a careful combing of the hair
not as I’d known it set before—
forehead laid bare, cleared silver strands;
not of my choosing, frame beside.

Those crucial values, borne through love,
I best express, poetic cause,
so foremost, my utensil range,
is heartfelt, mindful, of my self.
Craft, the key tool in wordsmith’s bag,
intended, purposeful in choice,
inspired by feeling shared abroad,
that impulse known and recognised.

But father told he wanted this,
a final farewell to his wife,
though he knew, as did I, full-well,
she long had left; this trolley bare,
enforced that spirit flown the room.

For lines that harmonise with lives
my breathing words need rhythm’s pulse,
unless caesura, overhang,
specific brake to grate the flow.
I need right feet to make my steps,
like dancing master, measured speak,
but colour language for the ear,
delighting how our letters paint.

By absence seeping beads drawn down—
the knowledge that we paused alone,
skeletal cage deserted now.
And since, the question posed myself—
should I dissuade through queries raised?

The verse is less to tell as ask,
that eroteme from printer’s rack,
the question mark that hovers near,
for will is moulded by our choice.
It’s best when subtle in its form,
the double entendre, so to speak,
unsure which reading is intent,
judged Sisera pegged in his tent.

Poor memory’s now fixed in place—
this mask should not replace her face;
some say dread visit reinforced,
that shock fires mould of empty clay—
unnecessary proof for me.

For me, a little challenge too,
some phrase, a term unturned before,
fresh learning stretched beyond my scope;
an ode to onward pilgrimage.
At best, its reading, third or fourth
before the folded layers found,
each penny drop another sound
that echoes where I’ve been before.

For him, for his, I dare not say;
the sixty years entitle him
to linger, lose, yet loose again
the bond and knots that tied them close.
And sons accompany past death.

___________________

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. Let’s try the—are you ready?—Cro Cumaisc Etir Casbairdni Ocus Lethrannaigecht:

•••Cro Cumaisc Etir Casbairdni Ocus Lethrannaigecht: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/cro-cumaisc-etir-casbairdni-ocus-lethrannaigecht-poetic-forms

(I think we may’ve done that one before, but since we’re concentrating on Irish forms, let’s have at ‘er again.)

AND/OR

•••Hautt: https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1882-syllabic-forms-found-in-pathways-for-the-poet (“a verse form that pursues wisdom and eternal truth”, says Viola Berg).

•••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 “Burning Your Candles at Both Ends”. 


____________________

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

•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Cro Cumaisc Etir Casbairdni Ocus Lethrannaigecht: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/cro-cumaisc-etir-casbairdni-ocus-lethrannaigecht-poetic-forms
•••Deibide Baise Fri Toin: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/deibide-baise-fri-toin-poetic-forms
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry 
•••Etheree: www.thepoetsgarret.com/2008Challenge/form22.html
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Hautt: https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1882-syllabic-forms-found-in-pathways-for-the-poet
•••List Poem: clpe.org.uk/poetryline/poeticforms/list-poem
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Verso-Rhyme: https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1882-syllabic-forms-found-in-pathways-for-the-poet
•••Violette: www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1882-syllabic-forms-found-in-pathways-for-the-poet/#veltanelle
•••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

 

 

 

 Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!

 
 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.