—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, for poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Michael Ceraolo, and Robin Gale Odam
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, for poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Michael Ceraolo, and Robin Gale Odam
BALANCING THE MOON
I’m rising as the full Moon sets—
a supermoon amber-golden,
the Celtic Claiming Moon, I’m told.
What has the night stolen?
Schoolyard: superhero in chalk—
deer or dragon? with many hearts,
one fist, one open hand in flight
as I lighten my step.
I’m rising as the full Moon sets—
a supermoon amber-golden,
the Celtic Claiming Moon, I’m told.
What has the night stolen?
Schoolyard: superhero in chalk—
deer or dragon? with many hearts,
one fist, one open hand in flight
as I lighten my step.
A MEETING-PLACE
A good fence makes safe haven for
feral cats on the woods side, and
my dog & me on walking-trail.
Is that wild gray tabby like dog’s
kitty at home? Their breaths meet at
wire-weave. Hiss, fangs & claws on one
side, curious cautious muzzle
on the other—and we move on.
A good fence makes safe haven for
feral cats on the woods side, and
my dog & me on walking-trail.
Is that wild gray tabby like dog’s
kitty at home? Their breaths meet at
wire-weave. Hiss, fangs & claws on one
side, curious cautious muzzle
on the other—and we move on.
ARS POETICA: THE DOE
Walking the wooded edge of campus
my dog in the lead abruptly
intensifies, energy rushing the length of leash
to my hand which reactively clutches.
Up springs out of wild green
a doe, bounding across pavement
to disappear in wilder green.
My dog with prey instinct of wild coyote.
No! Leash vibrant as cricket wings.
Leave it! No Deer! And the doe is gone,
like the one who raids my garden, the one
I say I wish my dog could chase away.
My nemesis, the one who writes me poems.
ACROSS FROM THE BANK
It was chilly last night. She sits
on the curb—lipstick, bracelet, ring,
head bent to her phone, shopping cart
heaped high with plastic bags of stuff.
It’s warmer in the sun that hits
this pavement while early birds sing
morning, well before the doors start
to open. Will it be enough?
Is enough just the stuff that fits
in a shopping cart, or the thing
to cause safe-haven’s gate to part?
Beyond, dozers level the rough.
Birds go on practicing their art—
Raven’s song is gravelly-tough.
It was chilly last night. She sits
on the curb—lipstick, bracelet, ring,
head bent to her phone, shopping cart
heaped high with plastic bags of stuff.
It’s warmer in the sun that hits
this pavement while early birds sing
morning, well before the doors start
to open. Will it be enough?
Is enough just the stuff that fits
in a shopping cart, or the thing
to cause safe-haven’s gate to part?
Beyond, dozers level the rough.
Birds go on practicing their art—
Raven’s song is gravelly-tough.
WHOSE WOODS
A cool green morning on the trail,
blue sky aplenty to inhale—
if I were drifter, this
could be safe haven, open woods
that know no mustn’ts, know no shoulds,
a roaming walker’s bliss.
And here’s a side-path. Shall I see
where it leads? It’s beckoning me.
And someone’s cut a gate
through fence—up to a homeless camp.
Nights and days of freeze, swelter, damp—
an unhoused walker’s fate.
A cool green morning on the trail,
blue sky aplenty to inhale—
if I were drifter, this
could be safe haven, open woods
that know no mustn’ts, know no shoulds,
a roaming walker’s bliss.
And here’s a side-path. Shall I see
where it leads? It’s beckoning me.
And someone’s cut a gate
through fence—up to a homeless camp.
Nights and days of freeze, swelter, damp—
an unhoused walker’s fate.
SIMPLE PLEASURES
Blue pond reflecting blue sky—
dragonflies skimming the field—
blackberry bramble
safe haven for quail—
sweet black stain on our fingers—
walking together,
observing, meditating
how mankind must clear
brushy tangles, cut down trees;
clean and level, pave—
the land more precious
in a world of less and less.
Blue pond reflecting blue sky—
dragonflies skimming the field—
blackberry bramble
safe haven for quail—
sweet black stain on our fingers—
walking together,
observing, meditating
how mankind must clear
brushy tangles, cut down trees;
clean and level, pave—
the land more precious
in a world of less and less.
Today’s LittleNip:
FAIRYTALE TABLES TURNED
—Taylor Graham
A man left his home
unlocked, returned to find big
Pa Bear in his bed
and more than Goldilocks’ mess.
Yes, Bear found the bed “just right.”
___________________
Taylor Graham is out in the woods again, despite the heat, with Loki and whichever strangers she might meet; we are grateful for her many tales. Forms she has sent us this week include an Ars Poetica (“Ars Poetica: The Doe”); a Ryūka Chain (“Balancing the Moon”); a Tanka (“Fairytale Tables Turned”); some Normative Syllabics (“A Meeting Place”); a Rimas Dissolutas (“Across from the Bank”); a Rime Couée (“Whose
Woods”); and a Choka (“Simple Pleasures”). The Rimas Dissolutas and the Rime Couée (I see “Couée” found its accent) were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
For more about the Celtic Claiming Moon, see https://www.mabonhouse.co/new-blog/e2dc50pynuataxug5yuw421674c9bf/, where it says that “July is traditionally the warmest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere and as such is a good time to relax, meditate and reflect on your life. It is also a good time to think about how you can bring more positive things into your life.” Magical advice, indeed!
Next Monday morning, 10:30am, Poetry in Motion read-around takes places in Placerville at the Sr. Center. For info about this and what else is going on in poetry in El Dorado County, including poetry and pix from last Sunday's Wakamatsu workshop, go to TG'S Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/.
You can also click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) 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.
NOTICE: Sac. Poetry Center’s Poetry in the Park event scheduled in Sacramento for tonight has been postponed due to the heat that is expected. It has been rescheduled for Friday, July 21, 6 p.m.
FAIRYTALE TABLES TURNED
—Taylor Graham
A man left his home
unlocked, returned to find big
Pa Bear in his bed
and more than Goldilocks’ mess.
Yes, Bear found the bed “just right.”
___________________
Taylor Graham is out in the woods again, despite the heat, with Loki and whichever strangers she might meet; we are grateful for her many tales. Forms she has sent us this week include an Ars Poetica (“Ars Poetica: The Doe”); a Ryūka Chain (“Balancing the Moon”); a Tanka (“Fairytale Tables Turned”); some Normative Syllabics (“A Meeting Place”); a Rimas Dissolutas (“Across from the Bank”); a Rime Couée (“Whose
Woods”); and a Choka (“Simple Pleasures”). The Rimas Dissolutas and the Rime Couée (I see “Couée” found its accent) were last week’s Triple-F Challenges.
For more about the Celtic Claiming Moon, see https://www.mabonhouse.co/new-blog/e2dc50pynuataxug5yuw421674c9bf/, where it says that “July is traditionally the warmest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere and as such is a good time to relax, meditate and reflect on your life. It is also a good time to think about how you can bring more positive things into your life.” Magical advice, indeed!
Next Monday morning, 10:30am, Poetry in Motion read-around takes places in Placerville at the Sr. Center. For info about this and what else is going on in poetry in El Dorado County, including poetry and pix from last Sunday's Wakamatsu workshop, go to TG'S Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/.
You can also click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) 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.
NOTICE: Sac. Poetry Center’s Poetry in the Park event scheduled in Sacramento for tonight has been postponed due to the heat that is expected. It has been rescheduled for Friday, July 21, 6 p.m.
And if you're headed down to Santa Cruz to surf this weekend, beware the otters: https://people.com/sea-otter-attacks-surfers-in-santa-cruz-7559851/.
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
Here are responses to last week's Ekphrastic photo from Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth:
TALENT
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
I wish I had my mother’s gift
for taking landscape photos.
My photographs are often spoiled
by photobombing thumb.
* * *
WIND ON
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
By transfer from the scrapbook grey,
as album snap to cycling lap,
the tech has taken time away,
for processed shot now instant tap.
With Cecil B, thirty five mille,
both strip and roll a rarity—
so nitrate, silver screen, now nill,
float trays, peg line, developed, free.
That red light hanging over door,
as if the open secret closed—
no longer have to wait for more—
since devised image, device posed.
Like Leica revelation scene—
a Russian dog in space believed—
did Agfa, Kodak names convene
as LEItz his CAmera perceived?
But no one knew a jpeg then,
so who will know, in future, lens?
Ingrained, a moment in time when
the future may not see such sense.
* * *
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
I wish I had my mother’s gift
for taking landscape photos.
My photographs are often spoiled
by photobombing thumb.
* * *
WIND ON
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
By transfer from the scrapbook grey,
as album snap to cycling lap,
the tech has taken time away,
for processed shot now instant tap.
With Cecil B, thirty five mille,
both strip and roll a rarity—
so nitrate, silver screen, now nill,
float trays, peg line, developed, free.
That red light hanging over door,
as if the open secret closed—
no longer have to wait for more—
since devised image, device posed.
Like Leica revelation scene—
a Russian dog in space believed—
did Agfa, Kodak names convene
as LEItz his CAmera perceived?
But no one knew a jpeg then,
so who will know, in future, lens?
Ingrained, a moment in time when
the future may not see such sense.
* * *
Jackie Chou has sent us a Villanelle today! See more of Jackie's work in the Kitchen this coming Sunday:
A NEW YEAR'S REFLECTION (a Villanelle)
—Jackie Chou, Pico Rivera, CA
The year has begun with gloom,
my smile fallen to the floor,
to be swept away with a broom.
I feel a momentary peace, and then boom,
my fears enter through the door.
The year has begun with gloom.
I pace back and forth in my room,
pondering what God made me for,
to be swept away with a broom.
My anxiety is in such full bloom,
that I can't stand it anymore.
The year has begun with gloom.
There were days before all this doom,
memories stored inside a drawer,
to be swept away with a broom.
I know I ought to go look for a groom,
but sorrow keeps gnawing at my core.
The year has begun with gloom,
to be swept away with a broom.
The year has begun with gloom,
my smile fallen to the floor,
to be swept away with a broom.
I feel a momentary peace, and then boom,
my fears enter through the door.
The year has begun with gloom.
I pace back and forth in my room,
pondering what God made me for,
to be swept away with a broom.
My anxiety is in such full bloom,
that I can't stand it anymore.
The year has begun with gloom.
There were days before all this doom,
memories stored inside a drawer,
to be swept away with a broom.
I know I ought to go look for a groom,
but sorrow keeps gnawing at my core.
The year has begun with gloom,
to be swept away with a broom.
* * *
Here are some Haiku from Michael Ceraolo from S. Euclid, OH. Somebody on Facebook has re-opened the old “it ain’t Haiku if it ain’t 5/7/5” argument. I used to ride that horse myself, including the need for Haiku to be only about nature, no humans involved. I’ve since realized that this was a losing battle, and my poor Haiku horse was going nowhere other than into the ground. So, here—enjoy Michael’s work, whatever we decide to call it:
Here are some Haiku from Michael Ceraolo from S. Euclid, OH. Somebody on Facebook has re-opened the old “it ain’t Haiku if it ain’t 5/7/5” argument. I used to ride that horse myself, including the need for Haiku to be only about nature, no humans involved. I’ve since realized that this was a losing battle, and my poor Haiku horse was going nowhere other than into the ground. So, here—enjoy Michael’s work, whatever we decide to call it:
Cleveland Haiku #647
Morning in the park—
lost shoe alone
in the parking lot
Cleveland Haiku #648
Afternoon in the park—
lost shoe now soaked
from the day's rain
Cleveland Haiku #649
Afternoon in the park—
turtle crawling
on the pedestrian path
Cleveland Haiku #650
Afternoon in the park—
too many bicyclists
on the pedestrian path
Cleveland Haiku #651
Squirrel plays chicken
with passing cars—
wins this time
Cleveland Haiku #652
Second squirrel
plays chicken—
and loses
Cleveland Haiku #653
Mystery road signs—
words and/or pictures covered
by black plastic
Cleveland Haiku #654
Driving a main road—
man sits in his yard
yelling at passing cars
Cleveland Haiku #655
Afternoon in the park—
dancing roller skater
in the parking lot
* * *
Here is an Ekphrastic poem by Robin Gale Odam, based on this Monet painting:
REMEMBERING THE ASTERS
After the Painting, Asters, by Claude Monet, 1880
—Robin Gale Odam, Sacramento, CA
On the kitchen wall, where the dim light
streams in through the old glass of the high
window, he hung the fine painting of asters
“to brighten the room.”
His grandchildren dust and sort and clean,
stopping to consider the painting—the light
from the garden filters in through the wavy
glass, falls over the asters as hues of color
among shadows and petals.
They remove the painting from the wall,
carefully wrap it, and place it into the
moving van.
They stop to consider the waves in the
old window glass.
* * *
And an Ars Poetica from over the sea by Stephen Kingsnorth:
After the Painting, Asters, by Claude Monet, 1880
—Robin Gale Odam, Sacramento, CA
On the kitchen wall, where the dim light
streams in through the old glass of the high
window, he hung the fine painting of asters
“to brighten the room.”
His grandchildren dust and sort and clean,
stopping to consider the painting—the light
from the garden filters in through the wavy
glass, falls over the asters as hues of color
among shadows and petals.
They remove the painting from the wall,
carefully wrap it, and place it into the
moving van.
They stop to consider the waves in the
old window glass.
* * *
And an Ars Poetica from over the sea by Stephen Kingsnorth:
AMUSING
—Stephen Kingsnorth
Amusing, words can take the lead,
moved by associated feeds,
for terms have means to turn about,
and sometimes offer readers voice,
inviting interactive choice.
The poet on a journey too,
a pilgrim stepping, where not known,
and maybe not arriving there.
The trail is laid by what we’ve learnt,
apprentice trade with lexicon,
with metric pulse that we can pace,
both sole and arch, those bridging parts.
Hear homophones, the first attack,
with -graphs and -nyms not far behind,
so I would see the printed page,
return, if led the garden path,
and better still when mean, unsure,
can then revise selection made,
and better learn mindset assumed.
So is the line a spinning tale,
bait, unsuspected, to hook prey,
or can a blatant pride be ars
poetica beyond the reach—
grammar, abandoned koine Greek,
the Soho street where spade is named,
failed intellectual property?
It’s good when poems head things up,
laudanum, Porlock man escaped?
_____________________
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
Amusing, words can take the lead,
moved by associated feeds,
for terms have means to turn about,
and sometimes offer readers voice,
inviting interactive choice.
The poet on a journey too,
a pilgrim stepping, where not known,
and maybe not arriving there.
The trail is laid by what we’ve learnt,
apprentice trade with lexicon,
with metric pulse that we can pace,
both sole and arch, those bridging parts.
Hear homophones, the first attack,
with -graphs and -nyms not far behind,
so I would see the printed page,
return, if led the garden path,
and better still when mean, unsure,
can then revise selection made,
and better learn mindset assumed.
So is the line a spinning tale,
bait, unsuspected, to hook prey,
or can a blatant pride be ars
poetica beyond the reach—
grammar, abandoned koine Greek,
the Soho street where spade is named,
failed intellectual property?
It’s good when poems head things up,
laudanum, Porlock man escaped?
_____________________
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.) Here is a form from the Burmese:
•••Than-bauk: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/than-bauk-poetic-forms
•••AND/OR something from the Bengali:
•••Tripadi: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/tripadi-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 “Fragile”.
____________________
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
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Than-bauk: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/than-bauk-poetic-forms
•••AND/OR something from the Bengali:
•••Tripadi: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/tripadi-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 “Fragile”.
____________________
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
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Rimas Dissolutas: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rimas-dissolutas-poetic-form
•••Rime Couée: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rime-couee-poetic-forms
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••Than-bauk: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/than-bauk-poetic-forms
•••Tripadi: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/tripadi-poetic-forms
•••Villanelle (rhymed; can be unrhymed): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-forms-villanelle
•••Rimas Dissolutas: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rimas-dissolutas-poetic-form
•••Rime Couée: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/rime-couee-poetic-forms
•••Ryūka: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryūka
•••Tanka: poets.org/glossary/tanka
•••Than-bauk: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/than-bauk-poetic-forms
•••Tripadi: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/tripadi-poetic-forms
•••Villanelle (rhymed; can be unrhymed): www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/poetic-forms-villanelle
____________________
—Medusa
Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
* * *
—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain
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.
