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Friday, February 02, 2024

The Brief Reign of Princes and Faeries

 —Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Joe Nolan, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Nolcha Fox, Caschwa, Joshua Frank,
and Claire J. Baker


UNDER THE ATMOSPHERIC RIVER

It washed away the Old Year 2022
and dawned dark over a landscape scrubbed,
eroded raw, littered with pieces of
fence & rocks torn loose & shredded
branches like nature’s confetti.
What a New Year’s Party we had. Stranger-
neighbors helping dredge our catty-
wampus half-hinged-hanging ranch gate
from a brand-new mud-bank
in an overnight lake over what had been
driveway. We were an island with no
ferry. The New Year promised
many changes; New Year predicting
the new climate that had been evolving
through so many new years past: this New
Year’s baby, 2023, bawling up a storm.
 
 
 
 

AT THE GOLD RUSH PARK

Last winter’s relentless storm-upon-storm didn’t topple these great conifers, just left them vulnerable. Now, giant jackstraws over the ravine. Maintenance cleared the trail; stumps without tags to tell what was pine, fir, cedar—just dead wood. We take a gentler, trodden path up a little creek with mini waterfalls over rocks,

bubbling like champagne—
pools where water striders scribe
circles unending
 
 
 
 

BRUTAL

Sky as dark as city truck exhaust,
as morning news headlines. What can it
portend? The ancients augured by flights
of birds. At dawn’s gray light I watch birds
disappearing. Are they migrating
north as climate dictates or just gone?
 
 
 
 

GARDEN UNPLANTED

on our hill, mushrooms
blossom among winter’s green

these flowers of rot
born of January rains

looking forward/looking back
as I do walking

the hillside naming fungi
this dark domed death’s head

this white pleated gown won’t tell
which is poison, which a gift
 
 
 
 
 
FUNGUS WONDERLAND

Where last month I found The Prince
basking in checkered shade under sequoias,
today the Fragrant Funnel has usurped his place.
The reign of fungi is so brief, this upstart
not delicious and may be toxic.
But farther along the path—
or, by some spell of byways
perhaps it’s become a different path —
I find a species whose name the plant-app
on my phone refuses to disclose, dainty as fairy’s
cup on a table set with spring-green filigrees
and slenderest of wands—
calling them chopsticks or pine needles
would surely break the spell.
 
 
 
 

HEARSAY

Somewhere hereabouts, so they say,
is an old graveyard paved over
with parking lot, or maybe some
new building rests over its bones.
Were the interred dug up and where
did they go? Where exactly was
this graveyard? Today I’m standing
on a business district sidewalk
and here’s a black jacket resting
on a walking stick—and whose and
why, and does this have anything
to do with a displaced graveyard?

_________________

Today’s LittleNip:

OVER THE CLOUDS
—Taylor Graham

Will you take the chance?
Leap the puddle
its blue-sky expanse
as white clouds advance,
gather, huddle.
Not a downward glance,
light & whimsical, in a trance—
this airborne flighty dance.

_________________

Today Taylor Graham has brought us mushrooms with exotic names under dark, storm-ridden skies, and we thank her for that! Forms she has used include some 8-Syllable Verse (“Hearsay”); some Normative Syllabics (“Brutal”); a Dividita (“Garden Unplanted”); a Tercou that is also a response to  Medusa's Ekphrastic photo (“Over the Clouds”); and a Haibun (“At the Gold Rush Park”). The Tercou and the Dividita were last week’s Triple-F Challenges, and “Brutal Weather” was last week’s Tuesday’s Seed of the Week.

Next Tuesday in El Dorado County will bring a Poets and Writers Workshop at the Cameron Park Library, 5:30pm, in addition to the weekly Tuesday at Two workshop in the Placerville library. For news about 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.

Lest we forget what day it is today, here’s Punxutawney Phil in a yoga pose:
 
 

 
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


In addition to Taylor Graham’s “Over the Clouds” [above], we received responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo from Joe Nolan, Stephen Kingsnorth, and Nolcha Fox:



PUDDLE-JUMPING IN HIGH HEELS
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA


Land thou on your toe.
The tiny heel is far too small
To lend you balance
When you land.

The lending of a helping hand
To give you flight,
Puddle-jumping—
The feeling,
So bright,
That comes across!

* * *

ARTIFICE
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

This really is a step too far,
perspective jettisoned entire,
wrong heels, man’s stance, small size of bus
without that puddle’s content, cloud.
Or is she trying out new sphere,
dimension where she learns to float,
maybe her feeling in the dance,
sheer thrill at partner on prance floor?

Her coach—not dancing master here—
may’ve been that bus to Lilliput,
but curbing fear we’re near the edge,
is this some doctored fifties set?
Perhaps steam rises, underground,
subversive heating system, sad—
for blues affect this cirrus smoke—
though music does not deflect mood.

But then web brings me down to earth,
‘Cartier Bresson’s puddle leap’,
in nineteen sixty—added clouds—
just to confuse one’s chivalry.
Supplanting art—is this carte blanche—
to cut and paste, algorithm,
so make the Mona Lisa dull,
by artifice of keyboard skill?

Now I’m equipped to spill these words,
through privilege of my life’s course,
degrees in jack of all trade learnt,
though journeyman with Master’s Art.
But play with words is not enough,
without the mystery of Muse.
So stanzas but a pinch of salt;
my appetite, blue ribbon sort.

* * *

LEAP OF FAITH
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY


Puddles glisten in the rain,
mirrors of the parting clouds.
Boundaries melt, the up
and down are not as clear
as they might seem.
You leap from curbs
to reach dry streets
and find yourself
in sky instead.

* * *

Nolcha Fox is no fan of form. So she sent us what she’s calling a Sonnet, only because it has 14 lines. I questioned the Sonnet name for her poem, charming though it is, so she sent me this quote from Contemporary Sonnets | Voca:  “Contemporary poets will often keep one element of the traditional form (for example, the fourteen-line structure) while doing away with others…” So here is Nolcha’s Contemporary Sonnet:
 
 
 


I DON’T DO YOGA ANYMORE
—Nolcha Fox

It’s the final corpse pose
that got the best of me.
Two sets of doggie kisses
on my eyes and mouth
aroused me from pretend repose
as my mind tumbled
around the things that I forgot
to do before the mat came out.
Calls to make, another run
to the grocery store
to get the toothpaste I forgot
a hundred times before.
I’ll have to wait until I’m dead
to do the corpse pose in my grave.

* * *

Carl Schwartz tackled one of last week’s Triple-F Challenges—a new form which was sent to us by Steve Brisendine—the small-but-mighty Dividita. Carl sent us two, in fact; the second is based on our current Tuesday’s Seed of the Week, “What the Raven Sees”:
 
 
 
 
 thicker and longer
—caschwa

some ad on TV
featured a hair care product

that had the outcome
of both thicker and longer

as if that was much better,
but contrarily

the weeds in my garden are
thicker and longer

as are bad apologies
so who cares about the hair

* * *
 
 
 
 
pause the senses
—caschwa

considering if
I was an all powerful

dominant human
I’d have to bathe myself soon

wash off all the stinky muck
before the raven

arrives, holier than thou
ready to rate me

as low as ravens can go
on a scale of one to ten

* * *

Here is a Monorhyme (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monorhyme) which was sent to us by Joshua Frank who is, apparently, out of hoots:
 
 

 
NO HOOTS LEFT TO GIVE
—Joshua C. Frank

I gave away too many hoots—
I frittered hoots on dumb disputes,
Believing in my absolutes
A little common sense refutes.

I detoured down too many routes;
I gave away too many hoots
And saved no hoots to put down roots,
But spent my hoots on substitutes.

Like spending cash on prostitutes,
I spent my hoots on vain pursuits.
I gave away too many hoots
With no more thought than simple brutes.

You shall know them by their fruits
When they shall lead you ’way with flutes.
Too late it finally computes:
I gave away too many hoots.


(prev. pub. in The Society of Classical Poets)

* * *

Claire J. Baker has sent us one of her timely Cinquains:
 
 

 
FACING ECHELONS OF ELDERNESS
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

After David Alpaugh’s short-poem talk, 2024

She keeps
one foot on edge
of a newly-dug grave
while other’s lightly anchored in
cement.

* * *

We were all saddened to hear that Poet D. R. Wagner passed away recently. Joe Nolan has written this lovely Epitaph:
 
 

 
IN MEMORY OF D. R.
—Joe Nolan

Before you get
Too old to have
Someone over for tea,
Won’t you please call me?

There was a poet
Who passed away,
Recently,

To whom I thought
I should invite
Myself over,

But never did
And now he’s gone.

No more chance
To ask for time
Over tea.

Endings happen suddenly—
Only half-expected.
Dreams expand,
Openly.

Birds from cages
Take their flight
Overnight
And are gone.

__________________

Thanks to today’s contributors 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 do a Badger’s Hexastitch, if for no other reason than the title is so cool. Maybe a Badger lives in our Ekphrastic photo coming up (see below):

•••Badger’s Hexastitch: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/badgers-hexastitch

•••AND/OR since we are in the midst of Aquarius, let’s do some more Aquarians (for this ancient Aquarian, Medusa):
 
•••Aquarian: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/aquarian

•••AND/OR I don't think that we have ever written an Epitaph here in the Kitchen, so if you're of a mind to, you might tackle one:

 
•••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 “What the Raven Sees”.

____________________

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

•••Aquarian: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/aquarian
•••Badger’s Hexastitch: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/badgers-hexastitch
•••Cinquain: poets.org/glossary/cinquain AND/OR www.poewar.com/poetry-in-forms-series-cinquain/. See www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/adelaide-crapsey for info about its inventor, Adelaide Crapsey.
•••Contemporary Sonnet: https://voca.arizona.edu/staff-picks/contemporary-sonnets
•••Dividita (Steve Brisendine): (Esperanto for "divided," because it's based on the 5-7-5-7-7 Tanka form, doubled and then divided into couplets). Ten lines, 5-7 5-7 7-5 7-5 7-7. Only proper nouns and "I" are capitalized in either title or text, the whole thing must be an unbroken sentence, and there is no closing punctuation.
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry 
•••Epitaph: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/epitaph
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Monorhyme: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/monorhyme.html
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Tercou (Amanda J. Norton): https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tercou

___________________

—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 Photos
Courtesy of Joe Nolan


















 
 
 

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.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
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Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
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 into the little beige box at the top
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 We miss you, D.R……