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Friday, August 23, 2024

Early Morning Visions

 —Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa, and Joyce Odam


ALMOST UNSEEN

O beautiful sinuous slinky
running, trailing plume-tail billowing
behind—disappearing into green
screening, stringer of hedge in the midst
of steely industrial park—this
early morning vision—O Gray Fox!
 
 
 
 

DRESS FOR WEATHER

There was a convention of ravens

yesterday among oaks on the north hill.

Do ravens gather to discuss the weather?

A shift in the wind... I woke from summer 

sleep to autumn chill and, with a vague 

sense of fall seeping under the door. 

I snatched up a pair of wool socks.

It's August. Don’t I know, in a couple
of hours it’ll still be summer? What do
those crafty corvids talk about? They’re
already dressed for any weather.
 
 
 
 

“TREE WORK AHEAD”

I follow my dog down gravel. That sign
up ahead: what kind of tree-work? changing
carbon dioxide into oxygen?
slowing global warming and my BP?
creating shade in heat wave? improving
soil and preventing erosion? making
habitat for birds and other critters?
As if on cue, air is filled with birdsong—
the bubbling that ends in bouncy-bally
must be wrentit. A de-stressor for sure.
I’ve lost count of all the jobs that trees do
every day and night, without wages or
benefits. My dog and I walk in shade
and let the trees do their blessed business.
 
 
 
 

OFF MAIN

Downtown traffic shuttles without pause
heading to Wednesday jobs, except those old
retirees
standing by a pickup talking. No one notices
my dog pulling me along the sidewalk.
My dog is silent, black as shadow.
It’s already hot this morning, nine a.m.
He pulls me straight as traffic till abruptly
he turns. A gap in buildings,
an almost hidden entryway dark between slat-
board fence and ancient stairway rickety and
flaking
paint, and a branching green-lace tree
overshadows all. It’s cool in here, as shiver-cool
as an enchantment, with a far-end gate,
a shadow-muted sunflower, porcelain as grave-
décor. What is this place?
My phone refuses to tell the hour.
 
 
 
 

ONLY THIS MOVES

I stand behind the house and gawk       
at sun-illuminated wings
that circle far above the field
in search of prey or who knows what.

It’s noontime when no sparrow sings.   
The grass lies dead by hot wind bent.   
I wonder, can the great bird fly
its course when even shadows yield

to sunstroke? What’s the high intent
inspiring this red-shouldered hawk?
Its cry is silent, beak clamped shut.
Its soaring cuts through summer’s sky.
 
 
 
 

TO START THE DAY

I woke with a jaundiced outlook
on the day. I lit a lamp, its light curdling
at the edges in all-consuming dark.
How long till dawn, and bonafide shining
of day’s dignitary, Sun? Outside,
I could fill a silo with dead dry leaves.
I think I’ll pull some words
from the can and write a poem
to start the day again—from scratch.

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

IF WISHES WERE RAINDROPS
—Taylor Graham

Dawn fog in August?
No, I didn’t just dream it—
wide awake, wishing.

____________________

Our thanks to Taylor Graham for today’s poems—reminding us that, despite all the signs of summer still on the ground, there are hints that autumn is peeking at us from around the corner.

Forms TG has used this week include some Normative Syllabics (“Almost Unseen”); two Word-Can Poems (“Dress for Weather” and “To Start the Day”, which is also an Ars Poetica); some Blank Verse ("Tree Work Ahead”); a Domino Ryme (“Only This Moves”); and a Haiku (“If Wishes Were Raindrops”). The Domino Ryme (no H) was one of last week’s Triple-F Challenges.

In addition to El Dorado County’s regular workshops (go to http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) next week, Poets and Writers of the Sierra Foothills meets in Camino on Sunday, 2pm, featuring new books from Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas and Tim Kahl, plus open mic. For more news about EDC poetry—past (photos!) and future—see Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado Poetry 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.)


Check out our recently-refurbed 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 and other ways of poetry. 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


Last week’s photo brought response-poems from Nolcha Fox and Stephen Kingsnorth:



POOR BETTY
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

Betty and her friends are ready
for lemonade and cookies.

Her teddy bear is unaware
of their unfortunate predicament.

They are under lock and key,
unable to escape.

They’re paper, they can’t
lift the latch.

They’re trapped
in an antique store.

* * *

DRESSING DOWN
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

With rosy cheeks and curly hair,
now here’s a plaything, swallow line,
inviting me, with rosebud smile
to pick her up and play her like.
A cuddle toy who lies nearby,
though truth instead, I’m not so sure—
a paper doll, while pals await;
am I to cut or clothe, address
that skimpy ware on skinny limbs?
She’s looking swell, with tasty sweets—
inviting mugs to drink as well.  

Six costume pages, Tammy too—
the seller says, ‘collector’s dream’
for scrap, collection, ‘or pure fun!’.
Well may he mark, and so exclaim,
but I’m less sure he can explain
why sixty past without complaint
these bright young things with all their friends
were on the streets, for sale by men,
could count on dashing blades around.   
Yes, I’m for freedom of the press,
but underwear on kids, undressed?

Or is this misdirection mine,
a child of confused age, my time,
more sensitive that those before,
so seeing threats where none at all?
For prepubescent, dolly fun,
when golly was a gosh, no more,
and took for granted, innocence?
So are we wrong, this later age,
too sensitised, too worrying?                 
Put Putti training, classic frieze
precursor of the judgement day?

* * *

Here are some Limericks from Caschwa (Carl Schwartz):
 
 
 


YIPES
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

flippity floppity flip
I ate too much of that dip
it went down the pipes
until I yelled Yipes!
flippity, floppity flip

* * *

dippity, drippity doo
I stepped in a pile of goo
it covered my shoe
and stayed on like glue
dippity drippity doo

* * *

how come you don’t ever call?
my number is listed for all
I sit by the phone
for hours alone
while you’re spending time at the mall

* * *

chickens know how to look smart
they sit on their eggs like an art
they hold that same pose
as egg output grows
they really know how to look smart

* * *

Carl went nuts with Limericks this week. Here are four more:
 
 


MOTHER NATURE
—Caschwa

there’s always grammatical flaws
a sure as there is menopause
from out of nowhere
to get in your hair
it’s a torture chamber of laws

* * *

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”
were the words I heard from my pup
he put me to task
and made sure to ask
“don’t walk out till you fill my cup”

* * *

the greater seniority she
rules the less maturity he
we accept that rule
to shape the gene pool
whatever our problems may be

* * *

they dug a big hole in the ground
just perfect to echo the sound
acoustical zen
but unlike Big Ben
the correct time remained unfound

* * *

And we close with a soothing Pastorale from Joyce Odam:
 
 
 


PASTORALE
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

The animals here accept my music—
not so other singers and musicians
with their talented voices and hands.

Here, I can be indifferent to lack of
fame and play my bungle of songs
in concert to charmed creatures

who turn to listen with tame eyes
and mute attention in these
acoustic fields where summer has come

as I sit in its bright doorway . . .
singing and playing . . . my flute. . . my
guitar . . . my wooden drum . . .

___________________

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.) This one looks like fun, and not too difficult, once you get the hang of it:

•••EP Johnson Quintet: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/epjohnson-quintet

•••AND/OR fling yourself into a Flung and fling it back at us:

•••Flung: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/flung

•••See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one.

•••And don’t forget each Tuesday’s Seed of the Week! This week it’s “Desolation”.

____________________

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

•••Ars Poetica: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/ars-poetica
•••Blank Verse: literarydevices.net/blank-verse AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-the-difference-between-blank-verse-and-free-verse#quiz-0
•••Domino Ryme (no H): https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/domino-ryme
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••EP Johnson Quintet: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/epjohnson-quintet
•••Flung: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/flung
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Haiku: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/haiku-or-hokku AND/OR www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Limerick: poets.org/glossary/limerick
•••Normative Syllabics: hellopoetry.com/collection/108/normative-syllabic-free-verse AND/OR lewisturco.typepad.com/poetics/normative-syllabic-verse
•••Pastoral Poetry: poets.org/glossary/pastoral AND/OR 4thstcog.com/theology/what-are-the-characteristics-of-pastoral-poetry.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-pastoral-poem-learn-about-the-conventions-and-history-of-pastoral-poems-with-examples/, A short pastoral poem is called an Eclogue (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eclogue), also an Idyll or a Madrigal.
•••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
picture, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)

* * *

—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Medusa
 
 
 
 
 













For future 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—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
 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
 to find the date you want.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!