—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry by
Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnsorth
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry by
Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnsorth
WORLD COMING AT US
Here comes dawn on the trail ahead.
Here comes willow weeping its summer leaves,
and tall trees held up by climbing ivy.
Here comes Sparrow foraging breakfast alms.
Here comes the Tunnel, hoop-arch
for old-time locomotive that lost its track.
Here come cutbanks roofed by vaulting oaks,
no way out but whence we came & whither we go.
Here comes no one on the trail
but me & dog who stops to sniff what I can’t see.
All this coming at us as we walk.
Here comes steep & narrow side-path, camps
of the roofless, freeway commuters rushing by.
Here comes Raven calling untranslatables.
Here comes the backward trail, &
rising sun to cast our shadows forward.
Here comes dawn on the trail ahead.
Here comes willow weeping its summer leaves,
and tall trees held up by climbing ivy.
Here comes Sparrow foraging breakfast alms.
Here comes the Tunnel, hoop-arch
for old-time locomotive that lost its track.
Here come cutbanks roofed by vaulting oaks,
no way out but whence we came & whither we go.
Here comes no one on the trail
but me & dog who stops to sniff what I can’t see.
All this coming at us as we walk.
Here comes steep & narrow side-path, camps
of the roofless, freeway commuters rushing by.
Here comes Raven calling untranslatables.
Here comes the backward trail, &
rising sun to cast our shadows forward.
LOKI SHOWS BUT CAN’T TELL
My dog alerts me
before we come around the bend—
exciting! prey-drive titillation.
Better than a gray squirrel tease.
Here’s black flurry fury
of great wings & fanned tails
from cutbank to oak & back across
our path. Half a dozen huge
black birds disturbed
from dinner by me & my dog.
Ponderous noisy flight.
What are they?
Guttural calls mix with wingbeats.
Raven.
One lands on a branch—
bloody-red head, speechless.
Turkey Vulture.
Do they mingle for a meal?
Is this a fight-to-feast’s-finish?
The birdsong app on my phone
tells me nothing, as if
it’s all in my imagination, as if
nothing was seen, nothing was heard.
My dog knows better.
GOLDEN EMBERS
I thought star thistle
had the last word on summer—
Goldenrod still blooms.
Left along the trail:
a shopping cart, a walker.
Goldenrod still blooms
as if planted by someone
yet hoping for something good.
DIRTY DAY
annual Hangtown Creek cleanup
To the creek
we’ll go with buckets and
trash pickers, ardor, and sturdy gloves.
We mean to
clean up the waterway
that flows thru town with all its wastings.
From the start,
a bramble-trek thru thorns
above water rippling over rocks.
Creek does its
best, we join in.
Afterwards, guess who’ll need a shower.
UNROOFED UNROOTED
Wind thru old home-camp
lonesome as one cowboy boot
left out in weather.
TOWN CREEK FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE
Great Sierra River Cleanup
We climb down parapets
and make our cautious way
with buckets and litter-pickers.
A helpful young man
with all the world’s time to spare
offers to fetch me trash.
I’ve got the best grabber
for cig-butts by the hundreds
from leaf-fall & pavement cracks.
Under the bridge
amazing rock sculpture
done by the creek herself.
I meet venerable Grandpa,
three-branch willow as wrinkled
as leaves of autumn.
This cleanup day 2023
with no sign of the homeless,
where do you think they are?
Today’s LittleNip:
BEFORE RELEASE INTO WILD
—Taylor Graham
Saved from the wet-mop
into my hand:
Hand’s selfie with Frog.
__________________
Taylor Graham has sent us more tales of her recent adventures, including the clean-up of our local creek. As usual, Raven is watching... Forms TG has sent us include a Zappai (“Unroofed Unrooted”); an Anaphora (“World Coming at Us”); a Lune (“Before Release into the Wild”); a Hainka (“Golden Embers”); a Parallelogram de Crystalline—wish it had a shorter name, she says (“Dirty Day”); and a Triversen (“Town Creek from a Different Angle”). The Parallelogram de Chrystalline was one of last week’s Triple-F Challenges, and yes, that title is a bit unwieldy.
For news about El Dorado County poetry events, past and future, go to Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado poetry on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/. And click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details about 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!
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!
* * *
We received responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo from Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth. Nolcha was inspired enough to send two, in fact:
LAST RITES
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
Autumn brings the neighbors out
to eat and talk and buy.
The final flowers of the fall
are out in bright display.
Folks barter junk and gossip,
and bask in breezy sun
before the winter chases them
indoors to wait for spring.
* * *
TOO EARLY
—Nolcha Fox
Christmas sales have begun,
and it’s only September.
I race with all the crazy fools
through aisles of winter specials,
no matter that the flowers bloom
and leaves have not turned yellow.
I buy a load of ornaments,
and velvet bows and wreaths,
bags of tinsel, sparkly cards,
and gift bags by the dozens.
I store them in the closets,
and hope the doors stay shut.
But cats and dogs are wily things
and pull the whole mess out.
They tear through decorations,
leave trails through the house.
I must go to the store again
before the sale ends.
LAST RITES
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
Autumn brings the neighbors out
to eat and talk and buy.
The final flowers of the fall
are out in bright display.
Folks barter junk and gossip,
and bask in breezy sun
before the winter chases them
indoors to wait for spring.
* * *
TOO EARLY
—Nolcha Fox
Christmas sales have begun,
and it’s only September.
I race with all the crazy fools
through aisles of winter specials,
no matter that the flowers bloom
and leaves have not turned yellow.
I buy a load of ornaments,
and velvet bows and wreaths,
bags of tinsel, sparkly cards,
and gift bags by the dozens.
I store them in the closets,
and hope the doors stay shut.
But cats and dogs are wily things
and pull the whole mess out.
They tear through decorations,
leave trails through the house.
I must go to the store again
before the sale ends.
* * *
Stephen Kingsnorth has used the charming and sonorous term, “hot polloi”:
CASH CROPS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
“An Englishman’s home is his castle”
There’s more than three feet in this yard—
and this a garden, trees, blooms, lawn,
with stars above and stripes below—
lines manicured, a mower wide—
but bunting strung, blown balloons tied,
an arrow, placard—for whose sake,
unless a label for what’s framed?
A jumble sale as British wont,
though indoors, of some institute,
but never household—bailiffs’ turf;
if outdoors, fêted with their wares,
community, of village fare,
when local weather, fated, reigns,
then pull together, flood or fire.
What irony, aristocrats—
some open grounds for charity,
to hoi polloi, their duty done;
not normal, castle-English-homes—
by hedge, fence, wall, moat replace-rail;
such soles as these beyond the pale—
down drawbridge rarely, if at all.
Or is it really yard for sale—
not yard of ale as old lore told—
unless a brewer needs kegs cleared,
but back of house, the unscene site,
that less attractive, out-of-sight,
to rear of showy public spot,
dump messy sort-tomorrow plot?
So this a picture quite unknown,
a neighbourhood I’d never home,
and this a language of its own—
a bargains, barter, trading post
or for the local hospice cost?
Now will kids boast old toys for new?
What is the story with this host?
* * *
And here is an Ars Poetica from Stephen to greet October and the witchery thereof:
SUBCULTURE GROWN
—Stephen Kingsnorth
There was a day most hung on words,
though if bewitched they hanged the witch,
so folk used languages of signs
those, inner circle recognised.
Meaning and symbolism tied
and intertwined, skewed cuneiform,
so those not in the know nonplussed,
urban scenography in play,
translation lexicon at bay.
How take low hanging fruit displayed,
how pluck the messages conveyed
from stranger soil, subculture grown?
What is fake news due urban myths,
and what proves that we know nothing,
or rather mean there’s nothing new?
Used words verge in memoriam.
____________________
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
There was a day most hung on words,
though if bewitched they hanged the witch,
so folk used languages of signs
those, inner circle recognised.
Meaning and symbolism tied
and intertwined, skewed cuneiform,
so those not in the know nonplussed,
urban scenography in play,
translation lexicon at bay.
How take low hanging fruit displayed,
how pluck the messages conveyed
from stranger soil, subculture grown?
What is fake news due urban myths,
and what proves that we know nothing,
or rather mean there’s nothing new?
Used words verge in memoriam.
____________________
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!
•••LaCharta: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lacharta.html
•••AND/OR try a Sonnet we’ve never done, Jeffrey's:
•••Jeffrey’s Sonnet: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/jeffreyssonnet.html
•••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 “Frustration”.
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••Anaphora: https://literarydevices.net/anaphora
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Hainka: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/hainka-haiku-tanka-new-genre-of-poetic-form
•••Jeffrey’s Sonnet: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/jeffreyssonnet.html
•••LaCharta: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/lacharta.html
•••Lune: www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-lune-poetry#what-is-lune-poetry AND/OR www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/poetic-form-lune
•••Parallelogram de Crystalline: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/parallelogramdecrystalline.html
•••Triversen: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/triversen-poetic-form
•••Zappai: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/zappai-poetic-form
____________________
—Medusa
Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
* * *
—Illustration 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.
Find previous four posts by scrolling down
under today’s post; or find previous poets by
typing the name into the little beige box
at the top left-hand side of today’s post; or
go to Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
and find the date you want.
LittleSnake’s Glimmer of Hope
(A cookie from the Kitchen for today)
quicker closing of
the gap between
day and night
drives Raven
into the treetops~