Almost-Spring

 —Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down to
Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Claire J. Baker, Vandana Kumar,
Joyce Odam, Caschwa, and
Joshua C. Frank

 

 

LEFT AT SCHOOL

on playing field fence
a black jacket whipped by wind—
some child’s pirate flag

 

 

 

 

IN ALMOST-SPRING

One day at school might be worth a walk along the railroad track, asking what is this? trail dissolved in rainfall puddles, pond that wasn’t there last week, two wild ducks floating dreams of spring, winter-dead vines bursting with question-buds, colors in a dialect he hasn’t learned. And who is that? girl on the far side of barbwire fence between dark woods and pasture oozing grass from underground, not a house in sight. Is she a vision or for real? the way she looks across space, a wordless tongue he wants to learn.

I happen by—two
together staring silence
at me: Go your way!

 

 

 

BINAL VIEW   

Here’s an old wrecked car off the track
entwined in berry-bramble green.
The car is rust in midst of green,
hidden when I was on the track.
I can’t keep track in so much green.

 

 

 

OFF-TRAIL DISCOVERIES

Last Tuesday I saw that old wreck resting
all these years on its roof, as if lasso’d and hogtied
by thorn-vines, just off the RR track. Today
in an undeveloped field beyond subdivision, I find
a rubble pile—winter grasses and young wild radish
rooting at its edges. Rubble takes me back
decades—disaster dog training over broken slabs
of concrete laced with rusty rebar, what was
a building. But that was years ago, and
Loki never learned the careful paw-by-paw agility
for earthquake work, nor sniffing rifts
and crevices for live human scent.
Now she’s rummaging a critter hole
while I search for signs of renewed green life
in a vacant field.

 

 

 

Wild Radish

FOR AN OLD MAN
On the Paved Walking Trail

May your walker glide like thread on loom
all the way down to the Upper Room.
May the fare be nourishing, ever free
as wildland fruit fallen off the tree.
May your walker take you back up the hill,
its basket provisioned your needs to fill.

 

 

 

 

WALKER’S BENISON

May rain not spoil your journey
nor worry turn you back.
Surprises be your rations
enlightening your pack.

Let air be sweet with birdsong—
the bluebird’s egg just laid.
May sun be bright for shadow,
and oaks lean down for shade.

And how the trek may wander,
and what discoveries seen,
may you have much to ponder
in dreams of peregrine.

__________________

Today’s LittleNip:

CAMELLIA
—Taylor Graham

One perfect rosette
blush of a cheek before storm—
and now comes the wind
tearing at pink petal-cheeks,
and a rain like falling tears.

__________________

Welcome to Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with thanks to Taylor Graham for kicking us off with her fine poetry! The Upper Room she's referring to in her poem, "For An Old Man", is a service in Placerville that provides food for the homeless.

 

TG has talked about her walks today using forms: a Waka (“Camellia”); a Senryu (“Left at School”); a Haibun (“In Almost-Spring”); two responses to our Ekphrastic photo of last week (“Binal” and “Off-Trail Discoveries”); “Binal” is also a Bina; and two Benisons (“Walkers Benison”; “For an Old Man”). The Bina and the Benison were last week’s Triple-F Challenges, and “Left at School” and “Off-Trail Discoveries” were responses to our recent Tuesday Seed of the Week, One Day At School.

This coming Sunday, Feb. 25, Taylor Graham and Steve Talbert will read at Poets and Writers of the Sierra Foothills in Camino, 2pm. For news about this and other El Dorado County poetry—past (photos!) and future—see Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry or see Lara Gularte’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/. (Poetry is Gold in El Dorado County!) And of course you can always 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 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!

* * *

 

When You Flip Your Flivver
Last Week’s Ekphrastic Photo

This week we received responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo from Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth:

 

DITCHED
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

He left me stuck in soggy sludge,
our romance a dead fish.
He left me for a
high-heeled dame
that he could ditch
again.

* * *

PLAID AND LOST
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

So, overall with plaid flat cap,
why would a man think scratched head helps?
Do thoughts seep out beside said swamp,
where muddy track led buckled scrap,
to take its toll in telling ways,
with tireless straining, spoken wheels,
in spin and slosh on sloppy swirls
of rims whose trim for farm machine?

But slim, the dream a team will haul
this wreck which rolls again at whim,
as wash invades the axle joints,
and slush corrodes established rust.
It’s vacuum packed, this iron horse,
a heavy metal suction pad;
pig in a poke, as puddled, wrought,
bogged down in mire, morass, moss turf.

If marsh were planted, paddy field,
would swelling rice give rise to hope?
Or should that muddled quag be drained,
assumption being, sump in sump.
A crane required—some wetland bird,
a turnstone, stilt—or godwit need—
or lever, distant fulcrum based,
for, far enough, can move the world.

What steers how we will see this view?
Await post mortem for this weight
as engineer, photographer—
for why have we this record so;
poor maintenance, ill-matched terrain,
a farmer checking trespass noise,
or rescue service at a loss
that one would pay now flivver’s flipped?

For would-be driver, bone crusher,
some puddle jumper, failed the test,
tin Lizzie, though can opened here
or bouncing Betty, now found out?
So, cheap but not so cheerful steer,
nor flats of Bonneville endeared,
an off site write-off, sight concludes
for pond smelt, playground, paddlefish.

* * *

Claire Baker sent us a poem based on a recent MK Ekphrastic photo:

 

 

 

AFTER STILETTO HEELS PHOTO
first steps of my ballerina sister
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

As we, her family, gathered around
our roasting turkey,
on tippety-tip bare toes, foot pads
not touching the kitchen floor
for balance, child Lucy walked in.
How did she learn or think
to walk that way?
But she did, with surprising ease.

At her joining us that day,
the kitchen entrance her stage,
we were statuary frozen in surprise
and admiration.
Finally our mother spoke,
as our eyes tried to hold on to
the tricky image. Lucy, you need
ballet slippers and professional lessons.

* * *

Vandana Kumar has sent us an Ekphrastic poem based on Monet’s Water Lilies, Setting Sun:

 

 

 

I SHALL CHOOSE YOU
—Vandana Kumar, N. Delhi, India

After Water-Lilies, Setting Sun by Claude Monet

I shall choose you today
From the 250 that belong
To Giverny

It’s an average day
About to lose its averageness
At mere glimpse
Of you
Oh water lilies!

Leaves that tremble
As they float
Grace to the skies
For the bounty

Someone calls you Nymphéas
Will your flowers turn to react?
I wonder
How many other names you go by
 
They say you also signify fertility
I shall see you in a reflection
In my lover’s eyes
 
The fishermen must imagine bigger seas
On which to sprawl their nets
The waters here aren’t that dense

Just little pond
The sun going down
On Monet’s sleepy hometown

Flowers cover the waters
On a thin carpet
Thick enough
To lay my restless dreams on

* * *

Joyce Odam sent us a Rhyme/Rime Royal:

 

 

 

A BREAK IN THE WEATHER
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
                        
The rain has lessened. Everything subsides.
The winds.The sirens. All the dreary news
the day began with. All that’s whole divides.
The silences stay silent to confuse.
We don’t know how to read each other’s clues
or all these pendings—not just if but when.
It rained. It stopped. And it will rain again.
 
 
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 4/19/11; 6/23/20)

* * *

Here is a List Poem from Caschwa (Carl Schwartz):

 

 

 
ASHES ALIVE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

Now ashes in urns, all of them
comprise part of the architecture
as inseparable from the home
as its very walls

Joshua, my wife’s adopted cat,
big, yellow, friendly, we bonded
right away and when our son
was born, Joshua dispelled fears
that the cat would reject the child
and immediately accepted him as
family

Bo, our salt and pepper Cockapoo-
terrier that we adopted to save from
a dire shelter future, knew all blood
family by scent, and would scrap and
bark loudly when anyone else
presented themselves at our door

Chica, our adorable light and dark
chocolate Chihuahua, loved to chase
and be chased, so we would run in
circles, and she would stop and look
back over her shoulder to ensure I
was close by because a big hug was
always the end game

Jo Lynn, my loving wife of 40 years,
finally resting in peace after numerous
and varied tormenting challenges, now
sits on a shelf in the living room, no less
a factor in putting in her two cents’ worth
while any matters are being considered

* * *

Carl has also sent us what he is calling a first-letter-and-first-word Double Acrostic. My resources don’t list this as an “official” type of Acrostic, so I guess we can credit its development to Caschwa:

 

 

STATE OF MIND
—Caschwa

Clothed and sheltered
Adults seated in the
Lounge engage
In spicy discussions to
Front their aversions
Of public exposure with
Raw nerves shaking while
Nude statues ignore their
Image, knowing it is just
Art

* * *

Here is a Sestina by Joshua Frank:

 

 

LAST VISIT TO THE BEACH
—Joshua C. Frank

The beach, untouched by Time throughout the years
As millions of waves washed from the sea,
As Time transformed me, now no more a boy,
Where I would walk each season on that sand,
Each decade by my side a different dog,
Still looks the same as we make tracks together.

The houses on the cliffs still stand together;
The restroom hut’s unchanged in thirty years,
But smaller since I went with my first dog.
The little village by the wind-swept sea
Stands still, unlike an hourglass’s sand;
It’s I who changed since I was just a boy.

My mother took me as a little boy
To this same beach, and here we’d play together,
And then she’d read a novel on the sand
For well-earned rest back in those early years.
She never worried; she could always see
Me watched and herded by my boyhood dog.

Some years went by; I had another dog.
The first would know me only as a boy;
The second one recoiled from the sea.
The people who’d come here with me together
Had slowly disappeared throughout the years—
The sea had washed their footprints off the sand.

Now, after thirty years, I cross the sand
And pass the people, with another dog.
It’s sad to climb the crags of early years—
Too much departed since I was a boy.
No humans with me walk the sands together.
The crowd recedes; just me, him, God, and sea.
There’s nothing left for me here by the sea
Except to walk more dogs upon the sand—
The people here and I don’t go together.
The only friend still with me is my dog.
I don’t like what they taught me as a boy—
I can’t turn back from truth I’ve learned these years.

I see the sea the last time with my dog;
I’ll leave the sands I ambled as a boy
To find a wife, for many years together.


(First published in The Society of Classical Poets)

* * *

And here is a form developed by Josh, the Sestina Sonnet, which uses the Sestina algorithm for four end-words, plugged into the Sonnet form—a marriage, if you will:

 

 

 

RED FLAGS     
—Joshua C. Frank

The national flags of the Westerners’ lands
Turn red in the dim, fading light of the sunset,
Like Communist red—bloody floors in a prison.
All the flags look the same when the light fades away.

Distinctions of flags have all faded away;
You can’t tell your own from the Soviet land’s,
And Christians and patriots cast into prison
Are told by the warden they’ve seen their last sunset.

A country’s long day has to end with a sunset;
What soldiers have fought for is fading away,
And chaos fights order and locks it in prison.
The victim?  Depends on just where the die lands.

With what we hold dear walled away in a prison,
There’s nothing to do now but watch the land’s sunset.

 

(First published in The Society of Classical Poets)

* * *

And here is a short-but-sweet Ars Poetica from Stephen Kingsnorth:

 

 

 
SPACE
—Stephen Kingsnorth

⸮ With fewer words,
more space for thought,
but space between
the terms creates
prompts required
for eroteme ?

___________________

Many thanks to today’s writers for their lively contributions! Wouldn’t you like to join them? 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 challenges, and send your results to kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.) Let’s try one of Josh Frank’s Sestina Sonnets:

•••Sestina Sonnet (Joshua C. Frank): uses the Sestina algorithm for four end-words, plugged into the Sonnet form

•••AND/OR try a Double Acrostic as Carl Schwartz has developed it, with a first-letter-and-first-word structure (see above).

•••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 “Winter Moonlight”.

____________________

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

•••Acrostic Poem types: https://studybay.com/blog/how-to-write-an-acrostic-poem
•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Benison: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bennison
•••Bina: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bina
•••Double Acrostic (Carl Schwartz): first letters and first words of each line form an Acrostic
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry 
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••List Poem: clpe.org.uk/poetryline/poeticforms/list-poem
•••Rhyme/Rime Royal: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/rhyme-royal-rime-royale
•••Senryu: www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-senryu-poems#quiz-0
•••Sestina: poets.org/glossary/sestina AND/OR www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/sestina
•••Sestina Sonnet (Joshua C. Frank): uses the Sestina algorithm for four end-words, plugged into the Sonnet form
•••Waka: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/waka

___________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
 
 
 Make what you can of today's
photo, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)

* * *

—Public Domain Photo

 
 
 

For info about
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.

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