—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, for poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Joyce Odam and Claire J. Baker
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, for poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Joyce Odam and Claire J. Baker
EARLY START ON THE TRAIL
Almost dawn
but
cloudy-
dark,
even scatters of rain—this
first of September
greets you. The unseen
hovers
in oak woods, not a night-
jar calls. Silence
keeps the thickets. Head-
lights tap quick
Morse from cars
northbound but hidden.
Overnight a change of months
passed
quietly along the trail
restless as dreams
stir sleep.
The morning’s
uncommitted,
vague,
with sunbeams
x’d out by cloud as
you walk under the cloaked
zenith of the sky.
Almost dawn
but
cloudy-
dark,
even scatters of rain—this
first of September
greets you. The unseen
hovers
in oak woods, not a night-
jar calls. Silence
keeps the thickets. Head-
lights tap quick
Morse from cars
northbound but hidden.
Overnight a change of months
passed
quietly along the trail
restless as dreams
stir sleep.
The morning’s
uncommitted,
vague,
with sunbeams
x’d out by cloud as
you walk under the cloaked
zenith of the sky.
LOVELY,
driving thru light rain in the dark
with my dog—like heading to a search
without the pressure—
following my dog on a deserted trail between night
and daylight in a light rain—
like a search without the angst—
smelling everything storm-fresh,
thank god for the rain.
driving thru light rain in the dark
with my dog—like heading to a search
without the pressure—
following my dog on a deserted trail between night
and daylight in a light rain—
like a search without the angst—
smelling everything storm-fresh,
thank god for the rain.
WOODS LAKE
A tough little trek across an August
mountain meadow knee-high in mules-ears,
paintbrush, and forget-me-nots with stickers
that cling to boots and dog’s fur and feet.
Our goal, an aspen grove on the far side.
Would we find carvings in their bark
made by sheepherders decades ago?
or only lightning scars, and marks
from branches broken off, scabs healed
in the shape of human eyes? No carvings
could we find. Did we regret the journey?
A mountain meadow is its own reward.
TILTING WORDS
Vertigious vision has you jousting distant lights the
bluest moon upon your sleeve to tilt the darkling
mess of death—life is dirged with dis and dire death
forever peeking behind dark curtains to drape
your living flowers efflorescing over fields you’re
sailing sighting on the farthest shore your poems
are your password.
Vertigious vision has you jousting distant lights the
bluest moon upon your sleeve to tilt the darkling
mess of death—life is dirged with dis and dire death
forever peeking behind dark curtains to drape
your living flowers efflorescing over fields you’re
sailing sighting on the farthest shore your poems
are your password.
SARDOGS
She saw my license plate in the parking lot,
caught up with us on the trail—
we’d started in cloud-dim before sunup,
the path barely visible but I trust
my dog. This young lady wishes her dog
to become a finder of the lost, but
he’s afraid of people. How can she train
him to seek what he’s afraid of?
I give the lady what I can, a mini-workshop
of hope & 2nd thoughts. She runs on,
young & fit enough to figure things out,
to catch help on the wing. Already
the dark trail begins its daily assignment
of dimming into cloudy daylight.
FALL’S WORKSHOP
Gone the vernal pools of April
and rainbow wildflowers of May and June.
End of August, it’s the yellow brush
of pit-gland tarweed that paints the meadow.
An Open Space Wetland Preserve sign
remains, laid flat, weathering toward fall.
The half-grown hare is on his own,
unwary. On sidewalk meant to someday
join a city, some predator has left
its calling-card, scat dense with what looks
like rabbit fur in twisted, segmented
skeins—I imagine cougar. A brief blizzard
of dead oak leaves announces the end
of gracious summer.
Gone the vernal pools of April
and rainbow wildflowers of May and June.
End of August, it’s the yellow brush
of pit-gland tarweed that paints the meadow.
An Open Space Wetland Preserve sign
remains, laid flat, weathering toward fall.
The half-grown hare is on his own,
unwary. On sidewalk meant to someday
join a city, some predator has left
its calling-card, scat dense with what looks
like rabbit fur in twisted, segmented
skeins—I imagine cougar. A brief blizzard
of dead oak leaves announces the end
of gracious summer.
Today’s LittleNip:
DEAD WEEDS
—Taylor Graham
Spring’s fairy lanterns
hanging as pale as ghost moths
until next springing.
_________________
Taylor Graham joins us today with poetry-songs of autumn, and many thanks to her for that! Forms she has sent us include a Haiku (“Dead Weeds”); a Sound Poem (“Tilting Words”); a Word-Can Poem (“Woods Lake”): and an Alphabet Poem (“Early Start on the Trail”). The Sound Poem and the Alphabet Poe were last week’s Triple-F Challenge.
Calif. Poet Laureate Lee Herrick will be in Placerville this afternoon from 3-5pm for a reading to celebrate El Dorado County’s new Poet Laureate, Stephen Meadows. Also reading will be Past Poets Laureate Lara Gularte and Taylor Graham. Stephen Meadows will also read at the Library in Georgetown on Saturday, 1pm. For info about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/,
This is a very busy weekend in NorCal poetry; tomorrow, in fact, is jam-packed! Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) 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.
And now it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
DEAD WEEDS
—Taylor Graham
Spring’s fairy lanterns
hanging as pale as ghost moths
until next springing.
_________________
Taylor Graham joins us today with poetry-songs of autumn, and many thanks to her for that! Forms she has sent us include a Haiku (“Dead Weeds”); a Sound Poem (“Tilting Words”); a Word-Can Poem (“Woods Lake”): and an Alphabet Poem (“Early Start on the Trail”). The Sound Poem and the Alphabet Poe were last week’s Triple-F Challenge.
Calif. Poet Laureate Lee Herrick will be in Placerville this afternoon from 3-5pm for a reading to celebrate El Dorado County’s new Poet Laureate, Stephen Meadows. Also reading will be Past Poets Laureate Lara Gularte and Taylor Graham. Stephen Meadows will also read at the Library in Georgetown on Saturday, 1pm. For info about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook: www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/,
This is a very busy weekend in NorCal poetry; tomorrow, in fact, is jam-packed! Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) 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.
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
We received responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo from Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth—two, in fact, from Stephen:
GARDENER
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
My bookcase holds
so many books
on all the different flowers.
I garden looking
at the beauty
in the many photos.
No dirty hands
and knees outside
where I could get
a sunburn.
* * *
WAR OF THE WORDS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
I must take cover from this pick
for words are weapons in this store;
attack, defence, well camouflaged,
they stand—or fall—trench art as breech,
against the negligent in speech.
Their volume heard when speaking faint,
as written text until it’s foxed,
the printer’s ink—watch P’s and Q’s,
and ampersand within its box—
some index linked, in footnote blocks.
I choose the title to refer,
return again when recall stalls,
and turn the corner—what disgrace—
when bookmark’s lost in space, forefend,
and I feel driven round the bend.
In paragraph, pericopae—
select for theologian’s craft—
by phrase or sentence, stanza, verse,
but when it’s purple prose I wear
will then my reader stand and stare?
* * *
LEFT ON THE SHELF
—Stephen Kingsnorth
What books are these, Your Majesty,
as Head of State on shelvery?
It looks the more your appointee—
as mistress of the cubby hole,
or ancient rôle, dust jackets, sole,
Protector of the Writers’ Guild,
a Laureate, without a doubt,
but not where rhyme or reason count,
the latter cause of painful wounds
that only poetry may staunch.
Your titles in this commonwealth
speak volumes for your interests.
If fifties taste, your palette choice,
but faded taste bud, palate source.
Your clearest genre here is flowers—
with leaves a many, planted tight.
Where’s bloomin’, dewey, indexed sign,
equestrian, your horse power love?
I note your head line quite discreet—
so did enlarge to see your face;
I know your crowning glory, grace—
but here pic-print but paper back.
Who fixed you up atop the writ
as in your legal status case
it is The Crown again the rest,
your seal or stamp of portraiture?
But that’s the past, I’m well aware
just as these books seen better days.
Though if you’re living in the past—
remember, dead at thirty five,
unburied yet for forty more—
you’ll find scene, flyleaf, blurb, restored.
GARDENER
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
My bookcase holds
so many books
on all the different flowers.
I garden looking
at the beauty
in the many photos.
No dirty hands
and knees outside
where I could get
a sunburn.
* * *
WAR OF THE WORDS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
I must take cover from this pick
for words are weapons in this store;
attack, defence, well camouflaged,
they stand—or fall—trench art as breech,
against the negligent in speech.
Their volume heard when speaking faint,
as written text until it’s foxed,
the printer’s ink—watch P’s and Q’s,
and ampersand within its box—
some index linked, in footnote blocks.
I choose the title to refer,
return again when recall stalls,
and turn the corner—what disgrace—
when bookmark’s lost in space, forefend,
and I feel driven round the bend.
In paragraph, pericopae—
select for theologian’s craft—
by phrase or sentence, stanza, verse,
but when it’s purple prose I wear
will then my reader stand and stare?
* * *
LEFT ON THE SHELF
—Stephen Kingsnorth
What books are these, Your Majesty,
as Head of State on shelvery?
It looks the more your appointee—
as mistress of the cubby hole,
or ancient rôle, dust jackets, sole,
Protector of the Writers’ Guild,
a Laureate, without a doubt,
but not where rhyme or reason count,
the latter cause of painful wounds
that only poetry may staunch.
Your titles in this commonwealth
speak volumes for your interests.
If fifties taste, your palette choice,
but faded taste bud, palate source.
Your clearest genre here is flowers—
with leaves a many, planted tight.
Where’s bloomin’, dewey, indexed sign,
equestrian, your horse power love?
I note your head line quite discreet—
so did enlarge to see your face;
I know your crowning glory, grace—
but here pic-print but paper back.
Who fixed you up atop the writ
as in your legal status case
it is The Crown again the rest,
your seal or stamp of portraiture?
But that’s the past, I’m well aware
just as these books seen better days.
Though if you’re living in the past—
remember, dead at thirty five,
unburied yet for forty more—
you’ll find scene, flyleaf, blurb, restored.
* * *
Here is a Ghazal from Joyce Odam which has been, well, truncated, so now it’s a Small Ghazal:
SMALL GHAZAL
—Joyce Odam. Sacramento, CA
Oh, how sorrowfully it moves:
an old distance made of stone.
~
How many anguishes are met
in time’s own mirror.
~
Let us not blame the rages we invent.
Let us seep out the praises.
~
Elemental, my love, my pretty love;
let us make mystery.
~
Oh, well, cried the sparrow to the tree.
Oh, well, echoed the tree to the sparrow.
SMALL GHAZAL (Joyce Odam): Example poem
above, “Small Ghazal”, varies the form, using short
couplets (as per the poem’s title).
* * *
And Claire Baker has sent us an Ekphrastic Poem on Tim Goldstone’s piggy photo which was first posted on Saturday, Sept. 2:
—Joyce Odam. Sacramento, CA
Oh, how sorrowfully it moves:
an old distance made of stone.
~
How many anguishes are met
in time’s own mirror.
~
Let us not blame the rages we invent.
Let us seep out the praises.
~
Elemental, my love, my pretty love;
let us make mystery.
~
Oh, well, cried the sparrow to the tree.
Oh, well, echoed the tree to the sparrow.
SMALL GHAZAL (Joyce Odam): Example poem
above, “Small Ghazal”, varies the form, using short
couplets (as per the poem’s title).
* * *
And Claire Baker has sent us an Ekphrastic Poem on Tim Goldstone’s piggy photo which was first posted on Saturday, Sept. 2:
—Photo by Tom Goldstone, Son of Tim
PORKIES
after photo by Tom Goldstone,
9-4-23 on Medusa’s Kitchen
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
Two middle-aged porkies
in still life on my Mac screen,
beautiful creatures as seen
backlighted
against a background of forest,
ears twin peaks of light,
bright hairs, sleek uplifting flags,
bodies gentle in motion
toward changing
some part of the world—
at least its unappetizing leftovers.
___________________
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!
•••Gwawdodyn Hir: https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/gwawdodyn-hir-poetic-forms
•••AND/OR try one of Joyce’s mini-Ghazals:
•••Small Ghazal (Joyce Odam): Example poem above, “Small Ghazal”, varies the form, using short couplets (as per the poem’s title).
•••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 “Combustible”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Abstract/Sound Poetry: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/abstract-or-sound-poetry
•••Alphabet Poetry: https://www.writersdigest.com/personal-updates/alphabet-poetry-or-going-back-to-school
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Ghazal: poets.org/glossary/ghazal AND/OR poetryschool.com/theblog/whats-a-ghaza AND/OR www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ghazal AND/OR
www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/ghazal.html
•••Small Ghazal (Joyce Odam): Example poem above, “Small Ghazal”, varies the form, using short couplets (as per the poem’s title).
•••Gwawdodyn Hir: https://www.writersdigest.com/poetic-asides/gwawdodyn-hir-poetic-forms
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••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
____________________
—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
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.
nothing sweeter than
fresh wild blackberries—
just ask the bears!
