—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Joe Nolan, Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth
and an Image by Denise Kingsnorth
JUNGLE SCENE WITH CAR
This dark-green place, drawing shade
and moisture in a rainless month, has drawn me
onto a dirt path that snakes through berry bramble
under oaks. This wild spot not far from traffic
has captured a car, flipped it on its roof, ripped out
one seat, let rust and light transform its colors
fading. See how the upside-down fender cavities
gape for air, as dead thorn-bramble webs it
all in place, as living bramble blossoms open
themselves for bumblebees and tinier pollinators
promising dark fruit in time. Somewhere
woodpeckers are calling; finch and wren sing
their sweet and raspy songs, and nuthatch shares
its laugh. Do the crickets serenade at night?
A lovely summer place making artifact of a car.
This dark-green place, drawing shade
and moisture in a rainless month, has drawn me
onto a dirt path that snakes through berry bramble
under oaks. This wild spot not far from traffic
has captured a car, flipped it on its roof, ripped out
one seat, let rust and light transform its colors
fading. See how the upside-down fender cavities
gape for air, as dead thorn-bramble webs it
all in place, as living bramble blossoms open
themselves for bumblebees and tinier pollinators
promising dark fruit in time. Somewhere
woodpeckers are calling; finch and wren sing
their sweet and raspy songs, and nuthatch shares
its laugh. Do the crickets serenade at night?
A lovely summer place making artifact of a car.
JUNE WEAVES ITS TAPESTRY
On the showy side,
golden poppies are entwined
with purple vetch, a
vine enlacing Queen Anne’s lace,
and Sierra pea
graces coyote-
bush with its lush pink garlands.
Need I examine
the backside? Coyotebush
in plain summer green
biding its time to blossom
snow white for the winter bees.
JUST SINCE YESTERDAY
Train tracks vanished:
the tallest pine
tumbled last night,
tons of pinewood
pressed upon earth,
blocking the path.
Such a surprise—
trail walkers stop,
shiver their shock,
mark this morning
for mourning one
mountain of tree.
Train tracks vanished:
the tallest pine
tumbled last night,
tons of pinewood
pressed upon earth,
blocking the path.
Such a surprise—
trail walkers stop,
shiver their shock,
mark this morning
for mourning one
mountain of tree.
HOW DID THEY GET HERE?
I came the trail less traveled, through crepitus
of grass-bones, a landscape of dead glory-holes
& ditches; the path an S-hook snake, a rock-
wall chute down to the river. But how did all
these barefoot people in neon-bright swimsuits
get here, to the only sandy spot this side
of rapids, a horde of happy humans with
extended-family size picnic baskets?
Such a boisterous lot of noise, every inch of
beach is occupied. This is no place for me!
I came the trail less traveled, through crepitus
of grass-bones, a landscape of dead glory-holes
& ditches; the path an S-hook snake, a rock-
wall chute down to the river. But how did all
these barefoot people in neon-bright swimsuits
get here, to the only sandy spot this side
of rapids, a horde of happy humans with
extended-family size picnic baskets?
Such a boisterous lot of noise, every inch of
beach is occupied. This is no place for me!
CRICKET LORE
In old cricket lore,
it’s good luck to have
its chirp in kitchen
or on hearth; bad luck
to kill one by chance.
Autumn is coming,
in old cricket lore,
when late-summer woods
are full of chirping,
mysterious, dark.
New awakenings
await, leaps of faith
in old cricket lore
if the bug choose to
be your spirit guide.
What is the ring
I hear these evenings
in my ears? Believe
in old cricket lore?
or just tinnitus?
Magical wonders
of darkening woods—
who knows what omens,
what mist-ful dreaming
in old cricket lore.
In old cricket lore,
it’s good luck to have
its chirp in kitchen
or on hearth; bad luck
to kill one by chance.
Autumn is coming,
in old cricket lore,
when late-summer woods
are full of chirping,
mysterious, dark.
New awakenings
await, leaps of faith
in old cricket lore
if the bug choose to
be your spirit guide.
What is the ring
I hear these evenings
in my ears? Believe
in old cricket lore?
or just tinnitus?
Magical wonders
of darkening woods—
who knows what omens,
what mist-ful dreaming
in old cricket lore.
INDEPENDENCE DAY 2023
We come together to celebrate this holiday
in shade of trees on the Library’s grassy lawn.
The building’s closed for 4th of July
which falls this year on Tuesday, poetry
workshop day. What better way
to honor Independence? celebrating Free
Speech open-air. No censorship, no book
burning. No plagiarism—each has
a voice particular, quirky, irreplaceable
as we share words born of mind, pulse
and heart-beat, spirit released in freedom—
free as birdsong under high blue sky—to fly.
We come together to celebrate this holiday
in shade of trees on the Library’s grassy lawn.
The building’s closed for 4th of July
which falls this year on Tuesday, poetry
workshop day. What better way
to honor Independence? celebrating Free
Speech open-air. No censorship, no book
burning. No plagiarism—each has
a voice particular, quirky, irreplaceable
as we share words born of mind, pulse
and heart-beat, spirit released in freedom—
free as birdsong under high blue sky—to fly.
Today’s LittleNip:
LIFE SPRINGS
—Taylor Graham
My garden is a doe with fawns—
a squash plant leaping for sky
a dainty vine with small green fruit.
The doe eats my garden.
______________________
Greetings and thanks to Taylor Graham for her graceful poetry and photos. (That’s Graham dog Loki peering down the tracks.) Forms TG has used today include the Choka (“June Weaves Its Tapestry”); a Ryūka (“Life Springs”); some Normative Syllabics that are also a response to Medusa's Ekphrastic photo last week (“How Did They Get Here?”); a Sliding Fiver (“Cricket Lore”); an Occasional Poem/Ars Poetica (“Independence Day 2023”); and a Novem (“Just Since Yesterday”). The Novem and the Occasional Poem were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
Don’t forget that this Sunday, July 9, TG and Katy Brown will facilitate another Wakamatsu workshop at Wakamatsu Farm in Placerville from 10am-noon. It’s not too late to register; go to Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details. Also coming up this week in the County is Poetic License on Monday morning (10:30am), and a book launch and reading at the Cameron Park Library on Tuesday, 5:30pm. For info about what else is going on in poetry in El Dorado County, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/. Plus, Lara Gularte has a Facebook page to announce poetry events and all things poetic in the county—see www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/.
You can also click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS for details about future poetry events in the NorCal area and beyond—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
LIFE SPRINGS
—Taylor Graham
My garden is a doe with fawns—
a squash plant leaping for sky
a dainty vine with small green fruit.
The doe eats my garden.
______________________
Greetings and thanks to Taylor Graham for her graceful poetry and photos. (That’s Graham dog Loki peering down the tracks.) Forms TG has used today include the Choka (“June Weaves Its Tapestry”); a Ryūka (“Life Springs”); some Normative Syllabics that are also a response to Medusa's Ekphrastic photo last week (“How Did They Get Here?”); a Sliding Fiver (“Cricket Lore”); an Occasional Poem/Ars Poetica (“Independence Day 2023”); and a Novem (“Just Since Yesterday”). The Novem and the Occasional Poem were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
Don’t forget that this Sunday, July 9, TG and Katy Brown will facilitate another Wakamatsu workshop at Wakamatsu Farm in Placerville from 10am-noon. It’s not too late to register; go to Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details. Also coming up this week in the County is Poetic License on Monday morning (10:30am), and a book launch and reading at the Cameron Park Library on Tuesday, 5:30pm. For info about what else is going on in poetry in El Dorado County, go to Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/. Plus, Lara Gularte has a Facebook page to announce poetry events and all things poetic in the county—see www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/.
You can also click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS for details about future poetry events in the NorCal area and beyond—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
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 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
OUT ON A HOT WHITE BEACH
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Way out there in the ozone,
Cannot be approached,
With anything
Resembling reason.
Hand her a roach.
Suggest she take a toke.
There’s something
Off in the distance,
I think I feel approach.
It’s time for more Pink Floyd
On the Isle of a Thousand Suns.
No one can afford sun-screen,
So they burn their buns
When they oft
Walk naked,
Across the hot, white sands,
They showcase for the tourists,
Whom they hope will come.
* * *
BEACHED
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
The summer beats on
sunburned skins
so tightly packed together.
We’re one beached whale,
gasping sun and longing
for the water.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth’s response came complete with a contribution from his wife, Denise:
—Image by Denise Kingsnorth
A LAST HURRAH?
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
These ancient folk, worship their Ra,
though screened, like tetragrammaton,
the flock of yore, both lore and law
in Mede and Persian constancy.
’Tis only where skin melanin
such folly, bare prostrated prayer,
is known, as beached and stranded whales,
a butcher’s slab, laid solar zone.
Where birth skins tanned, resentment plagues,
yet lighter race to gain same tan,
pour plastic drinks to cool pore sweat,
then dump said trash on poorest lands.
Midst desert dunes caravans trek
or park in plots with washrooms blocked;
here stake your claim, mine for a day,
shade, lilo, spade, old ghetto blast.
It used to be pink calamine
that dressed the lobster end of day;
we did not factor in the rays,
a cheer, beams summer’s last hurrah.
But would I join such barbecue,
choose poor shore space for obeisance?
Are temple traders de rigueur
as money changing deified?
* * *
Here is an Ars Poetica from Stephen:
VAGABOND
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Too many roots to settle home,
so many friends, most lost, few found—
they mostly those when kids around,
supporters when on danger ground.
Those poets, without face or frame,
but musing in our common quest,
the best blessed with encouragement,
imposter syndrome, false excuse.
I pick up trifles, hope for gold—
considered, alchemy of fool,
pyrites pirate buried well,
X factor map of garden path.
But rich the seam, prospectors’ claim,
a nugget from the swirling pan,
a hint of glint where there was none,
a gem revealed amongst the dross.
But we must serve as vagabonds,
peddling lines they would not, here,
of questions, sure, where certainty,
but nowhere then to lay my hand.
_____________________
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
Too many roots to settle home,
so many friends, most lost, few found—
they mostly those when kids around,
supporters when on danger ground.
Those poets, without face or frame,
but musing in our common quest,
the best blessed with encouragement,
imposter syndrome, false excuse.
I pick up trifles, hope for gold—
considered, alchemy of fool,
pyrites pirate buried well,
X factor map of garden path.
But rich the seam, prospectors’ claim,
a nugget from the swirling pan,
a hint of glint where there was none,
a gem revealed amongst the dross.
But we must serve as vagabonds,
peddling lines they would not, here,
of questions, sure, where certainty,
but nowhere then to lay my hand.
_____________________
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 these challenge, and send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) Today we join up with the French and tackle a couple of their forms:
•••Rimas Dissolutas: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rimas-dissolutas-poetic-form
•••AND/OR the Rime Couee (that’s Coo-ay—it left its accent someplace):
•••Rime Couee: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rime-couee-poetic-forms
•••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 “Safe Haven”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Choka: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/choka
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Novem: https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/novem-poetic-forms
•••Occasional Poem: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/occasional-poetry-redux-amanda-gorman-presidential-inauguration-nfl-big-game
•••Rimas Dissolutas: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rimas-dissolutas-poetic-form
•••Rime Couee: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rime-couee-poetic-forms
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Sliding Fiver: 5 stanzas, 5 lines, 5 syllables per line. First line slides down a line 5 times, to become the last line. (Martha Bosworth, via Claire J. Baker)
____________________
—Medusa
Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
* * *
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
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.
