* * *
—Poetry by Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth,
Wrexham, Wales
—Public Domain Art Courtesy of
Stephen Kingsnorth
—Poetry by Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth,
Wrexham, Wales
—Public Domain Art Courtesy of
Stephen Kingsnorth
FOCUS, SPRING
What’s hanging in the balance here,
this planet we misname as earth,
when seas topped mountains, they its bed,
then green and pleasant, for its turf,
but born blue cradle, life rebirthed,
a cycle onwards, rough terrain.
The dial, it hovers, waiting turn
of mind and culture register,
some due weight given to its cause,
while man kind only to his own,
though all that’s owned, joint stewardship,
and daily undermined for wealth.
As Eve draws near, a clearer voice—
for lunar’s cycle moves the tide—
if nature heard, some wayward learn;
but is the dusk too far advanced,
those adamantine chains too rust,
the diamond facet hard to cut?
Maybe the newborn lust for life
will cry out loud, not whimper soft,
awaken those whose slumbers last,
and force them rise and too attend.
All held meanwhile in this suspense,
our focus, spring, anticipate.
What’s hanging in the balance here,
this planet we misname as earth,
when seas topped mountains, they its bed,
then green and pleasant, for its turf,
but born blue cradle, life rebirthed,
a cycle onwards, rough terrain.
The dial, it hovers, waiting turn
of mind and culture register,
some due weight given to its cause,
while man kind only to his own,
though all that’s owned, joint stewardship,
and daily undermined for wealth.
As Eve draws near, a clearer voice—
for lunar’s cycle moves the tide—
if nature heard, some wayward learn;
but is the dusk too far advanced,
those adamantine chains too rust,
the diamond facet hard to cut?
Maybe the newborn lust for life
will cry out loud, not whimper soft,
awaken those whose slumbers last,
and force them rise and too attend.
All held meanwhile in this suspense,
our focus, spring, anticipate.
Seascape-Jetty
—Henry Ossawa Tanner (USA), 1879
TEMPLATE WIELDS
Near fifty years since I in Sceaux,
not knowing Henry Tanner there—
a grave place for a starry son.
I would have honoured him:
mother a slave till underground,
Wesley episcopal, father brand,
and he debated octoroon.
He detailed real rather than type,
his daily frame, as middle name,
a battleground for freedom fought—
from canvassed shades came life and height.
His passage first on seascape rocked,
the horses riding in their rage,
the roar of forties turning bend,
the swell, walls, gulfs topography,
sourced bubbled springs, drops of rain,
oasis cloud or ice-melt stain.
That water of the gully drift,
should visit berg and sailing ship,
moisten lips, xylem, tree of life,
intricacies of massive maze,
the plumbing of a worldly sort,
nature, nurture, experience.
So of Sarah, Ossawa welled and willed,
pattern against the template wield,
some hope in stratified, stultified,
a point of light in layered dark.
Lovers on the Beach
—Müfide Kadri (Turkey), 1913
LIMINAL LOVE
But love, not lovers, sea translates,
Sahil’de Aşk, a wider wake,
much broader canvas, miniature.
With notes, piano, oud, kemenche,
now liminal, as woman’s craft
observes herself, in scape with folk.
Presenting strong, hand belt, her arm,
pure she, white-dressed, moonlight and hope,
a tonal spread in dreams of young.
First teacher, Ottoman female,
art, contra-diction sets apart,
juxtaposition, empire, she.
Against the tide of current flow,
she sets a course that followed through,
a novel homage, Last Work penned.
Such works of forty, twice her years,
as sold, support, Society,
calligraphy that marks her grave.
Like any cocktail, shaken, stirred,
Love on the Beach, a heady mix,
talent ingredients, short life.
Lovers in Small Boat
(sometimes called The Demon Love)
—Maximilian Pirner (Czech Republic), 1884
TROUBLED WATERS
Before the launch, encomium,
assumed fare suit for season’s mood,
and illustrate for secret cards—
why my unease, discomfiture?
Reading romance or demon power,
ask who or what is at the heights,
emotion, power of love displayed
or dominant ascendency?
This separates the lads from lass,
in what they see, or choose to view,
and on which side might dare to be,
some gilt enhanced or guilt betrayed?
I wonder, one neck-gripping hand,
another, tense, seeks gunwale cloth;
is one in charge, or charge in both,
a supplicant or slave entwined?
The mastery, line sinuous,
said compliment, or complement
to devil lover—even pair?
In dusky shade, her flesh must cool,
unbalanced strain, skeletal thrall,
I fear abuse is, hear, laid bare,
pink ribbon, pinned to prize displayed—
is small boat universe, or cell?
Snack
—Daphna Kato (Netherlands), contemporary
INKSPIRED
Languorous lie, less stretch as loose,
acute, obtuse round island rug,
a carpet fringe, frieze hieroglyphs -
by fall of things, a pattern type.
Though parallels do not conform,
accoutrements of lazy life,
of physics serendipity,
here’s surreal to mark our ways.
See flex as spring, aerial view,
curl fronds, though not acanthus, phew!
Framed heavy dark, yet flecks, grain, rain,
what midnight hour for fairy tail?
Of mermaid form, those weightless legs,
her limbs a tale of trailing lithe,
line crested spine of dorsal fins,
a stegosaurus costume break?
A piece of cake, this inkspired plate,
or is it pizza, box wide eyed?
Do snakes snack after jaws engorge?
No apple of that Eden’s eye.
Remote at hand if surf the strange,
defy the gravity of all,
break out the order of the day
to dream beyond the pre-set staid.
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
—William Shakespeare
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to BritPal Stephen Kingsnorth for today’s fine Ekphrastic poetry!
Wordsworth’s Bad Day
—Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Medusa
A reminder that Cindy Ok
will be reading in Davis
tonight, 7pm, with
will be reading in Davis
tonight, 7pm, with
Jade Meshew and Roy Magat.
For info about this and other
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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
For info about this and other
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.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
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!
