—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
—And scroll down to Form Fiddlers’ Friday!!
HALLOWEEN’S OVER
Medusa wakes alive with snakes—
how could her eyes have turned alone
herself to stone? What a surprise—
Medusa’s lore on shelf of store,
synthetic guise for Halloween.
Her snarl’s still mean, leftover-wise,
haunted by snakes for shiver-sakes.
They winterize or hibernate
while poems wait to take the skies.
Medusa wakes alive with snakes—
how could her eyes have turned alone
herself to stone? What a surprise—
Medusa’s lore on shelf of store,
synthetic guise for Halloween.
Her snarl’s still mean, leftover-wise,
haunted by snakes for shiver-sakes.
They winterize or hibernate
while poems wait to take the skies.
(Medusa says 💖)
Last Week's Ekphrastic Challenge
THE LAST TREE
A malformation of what once
was forest, it survives on nearly barren
scraped and washed-out land
bleach-blond sanded by unpredictable
weather; branches crook’d in hooks
as if to hold things. Tree’s holding on,
itself, to sky as tough roots grasp
for dozed earth,
for hope and grounding.
STORM INVENTORY
Stop the count.
When oaks are gold
and greens unfold,
and sky’s a fount
of priceless gems
in pasture’s hems
as sunbeams mount—
if truth be told,
the oaks are gold.
Stop the count.
Stop the count.
When oaks are gold
and greens unfold,
and sky’s a fount
of priceless gems
in pasture’s hems
as sunbeams mount—
if truth be told,
the oaks are gold.
Stop the count.
NATURE’S WAY
Fungus and maybe drought killed the tree which fell with its live-oak crown athwart dry-creek, just above our driveway. Then, after so long wishing/storm-dancing of the mind, came rain. A ‘bomb cyclone’ they called it. 5 ½ inches in one day. Next dawn, in heavy winter gear, rake in hand, I walked down to the creek. Could I unclog our culverts before whirlpool overcame the driveway? Creek-wash foam at edges of the pool; culverts underwater. Gripping field-fence with one hand, I felt for culvert with the other. No clog! Creek flowing high and free!
Thanks to heaven and
that strainer—dead canopy
of oak—nature’s weir.
Fungus and maybe drought killed the tree which fell with its live-oak crown athwart dry-creek, just above our driveway. Then, after so long wishing/storm-dancing of the mind, came rain. A ‘bomb cyclone’ they called it. 5 ½ inches in one day. Next dawn, in heavy winter gear, rake in hand, I walked down to the creek. Could I unclog our culverts before whirlpool overcame the driveway? Creek-wash foam at edges of the pool; culverts underwater. Gripping field-fence with one hand, I felt for culvert with the other. No clog! Creek flowing high and free!
Thanks to heaven and
that strainer—dead canopy
of oak—nature’s weir.
MOUNTAIN HAUNT
What can the doctor do
about this clouding in my ear?
I wake up in darkness vapor-hearing.
It’s a bother, nothing to be fearing.
No pain, no fever. Souvenir?
It started—here’s a clue—
as I watched the valley disappearing
in high Sierra far and near.
My ears popped—one, then two.
The sky was spirit-blue.
And then we drove back home. Down here,
barometric ghosts of high peaks clearing.
CAT PATROL
The black cat Latches pads around our house,
each crevice and cranny he’ll spook and haunt,
harboring his claws, silent as a mouse.
Gone those rodents with their catch-me! taunt,
each Pinky, Mr. Vermin and his spouse.
How can Latches do this? Black cats don’t flaunt.
The black cat Latches pads around our house,
each crevice and cranny he’ll spook and haunt,
harboring his claws, silent as a mouse.
Gone those rodents with their catch-me! taunt,
each Pinky, Mr. Vermin and his spouse.
How can Latches do this? Black cats don’t flaunt.
Today’s LittleNip:
MOON ABOVE SUN
—Taylor Graham
between night and day
rumpled cloud sheets at waking—
sunrise under moon
___________________
Taylor Graham has sent more of her fine poetry from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, tweaking Medusa with a poem that is not only on the Fine Subject of the regal Gorgon (“Halloween’s Over”), but in a brand-new form, too! TG writes, “The Medusa poem may be a known form, but I don't know what, so I call it a 'slither rhyme’.” [Looks like a Welsh thingie to me, with those fun internal rhymes.] Anyway, as follows:
MOON ABOVE SUN
—Taylor Graham
between night and day
rumpled cloud sheets at waking—
sunrise under moon
___________________
Taylor Graham has sent more of her fine poetry from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, tweaking Medusa with a poem that is not only on the Fine Subject of the regal Gorgon (“Halloween’s Over”), but in a brand-new form, too! TG writes, “The Medusa poem may be a known form, but I don't know what, so I call it a 'slither rhyme’.” [Looks like a Welsh thingie to me, with those fun internal rhymes.] Anyway, as follows:
Slither Rhyme:
xxxaxxxa
xxxbxxxc
xxxcxxxb
xxxdxxxd
xxxbxxxe….
TG has sent us other forms today, too, including a response to last Friday’s Ekphrastic challenge (“The Last Tree”); a Bragi (“Mountain Haunt”); a Haibun (“Nature's Way”); a San Hsien (“Storm Inventory”); last Friday’s Form Fiddlers’ challenge, a Harrisham Rhyme (“Cat Patrol”); and a Haiku (“Moon above Sun”).
Sounds like it’s time for…
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!
Joyce Odam has sent us a Quatrina, a word repetition form devised by Ruth Harrison of Oregon. This form is a variation on the Sestina, where four words are chosen, then numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, and repeated in four Quatrains, followed by an envoy—a follow-up couplet. The poem uses those four words as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4 | 4, 1, 3, 2 | 2, 4, 1, 3 | 3, 4, 2, 1 (envoy: 1 – 2 , 3 – 4 )
Here is Joyce’s lovely “Yellow House”, in iambic pentameter:
YELLOW HOUSE
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
The yellow house stands shimmering in the dusk
revisioned by the sunset and the day,
engulfed within a swathe of golden light
that backlit birds fly through and disappear.
It almost feels as if there might appear
a revenant who seems comprised of dusk
emerging through that swiftly turning light
seen only in last moments of the day.
Everyone knows the dying of the day
is when old hauntings tend to reappear—
those thoughts you harbor, conjured out of dusk,
that flesh of shadow, trickery of light—
those indescribable tones of dying light
that make you feel you too might disappear
in sacrifice—surrendered to the day,
and you become a revenant of dusk—
dusk-motes that swirl and pull you through the day—
that burn of light where time can disappear.
* * *
Last Friday we posted the following picture of a tree, and challenged readers to come up with an Ekphrastic poem as a response. SnakePal Stephen Kingsnorth did so, and very well, too. Stephen, by the way, will be featured in the Kitchen this coming Sunday.
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA
The yellow house stands shimmering in the dusk
revisioned by the sunset and the day,
engulfed within a swathe of golden light
that backlit birds fly through and disappear.
It almost feels as if there might appear
a revenant who seems comprised of dusk
emerging through that swiftly turning light
seen only in last moments of the day.
Everyone knows the dying of the day
is when old hauntings tend to reappear—
those thoughts you harbor, conjured out of dusk,
that flesh of shadow, trickery of light—
those indescribable tones of dying light
that make you feel you too might disappear
in sacrifice—surrendered to the day,
and you become a revenant of dusk—
dusk-motes that swirl and pull you through the day—
that burn of light where time can disappear.
* * *
Last Friday we posted the following picture of a tree, and challenged readers to come up with an Ekphrastic poem as a response. SnakePal Stephen Kingsnorth did so, and very well, too. Stephen, by the way, will be featured in the Kitchen this coming Sunday.
Last Week's Ekphrastic Challenge
A TELEOLOGY OF TREES
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
No wonder worship, sacred sites,
a saving grace from jungle, tump,
their slow release of dioxide,
though better sump, as suck inside,
exchanging for our air in tides,
an exhalation, willow-wisp.
As ballot cross around the skull,
from Eden onwards, tree of life,
whatever lore—far more beside—
ingrained by ark, pairs groom and bride,
though ’twas the apple, pippin pride,
the slice that Granny Smith decides.
Did prophets know, as profits told,
the glade where evergreen stand bold,
with bark far worse than ever bite,
that Greenman also yet resides,
his baggage packed by Sycorax,
a trunk filled phloem and xylem flow.
There may be more, you never know,
soteriology in play,
with auxin throw of willing leaves,
veins emptied for another show,
for dust to dust and blow by blow
the earth is resurrection field.
As mycorrhiza, hidden trail,
links chains, communication cores,
there’s unheard singing in the trees,
sway way beyond branches in breeze,
those whispers we imagined ours;
respect, for gnarled may be rebirth.
* * *
Another challenge last week was the Harrisham Rhyme, and Taylor Graham and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) accepted that challenge, with fine results. Here is Carl’s response; see above for TG’s:
GROWING LIVES MATTER
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
agriculture or animal
enemy or friend
you can’t see them all
ubiquitous to no end
swarm of limbs, no apparel
more of the same around the bend
Carl also sent a very clever American Haiku:
L. A. TRAFFIC
—Caschwa
like millions of sperm
hot to fertilize one egg,
cars seek parking spot
* * *
And from Missouri come three Tankas from Michael Brownstein. Like Taylor Graham’s “The Last Tree”, Michael has those broken oaks on his mind:
THREE TANKAS
—Michael Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
Morning, the first day
The beach, us, and herring gulls
Sunlight, a warm hand
The surf a litter of light
Your kiss a blessing.
* * *
A rock day of song
Erosion and then it rains
The wind cross-stitched
This place you can hear a tree
Fall and, yes, one hand clapping.
* * *
Glacier waters bleed
Bumps and pebbles, stone and flesh
Mountains of blue ice
Snow melting, a siren singing,
A great oak breaks at its waist.
____________________
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!
____________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
See what you can make of this week’s poetry form, and send it to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) This week's challenge, thanks to Taylor Graham:
•••Bragi: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bragi
•••And see the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one~
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••American Haiku: www.pe.com/2020/09/12/new-form-of-poetry-offers-american-take-on-the-haiku
•••Bragi: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bragi
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Envoy (Envoi): pennyspoetry.fandom.com/wiki/Envoi
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Harrisham Rhyme: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/harrishamrhyme.html
•••Iambic Pentameter: www.nosweatshakespeare.com/sonnets/iambic-pentameter
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples#quiz-0
•••San Hsien: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/san-hsien
•••Sestina: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/sestina OR www.wikihow.com/Write-a-Sestina
—Michael Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
Morning, the first day
The beach, us, and herring gulls
Sunlight, a warm hand
The surf a litter of light
Your kiss a blessing.
* * *
A rock day of song
Erosion and then it rains
The wind cross-stitched
This place you can hear a tree
Fall and, yes, one hand clapping.
* * *
Glacier waters bleed
Bumps and pebbles, stone and flesh
Mountains of blue ice
Snow melting, a siren singing,
A great oak breaks at its waist.
____________________
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!
____________________
FIDDLERS’ CHALLENGE!
See what you can make of this week’s poetry form, and send it to kathykieth@hotmail.com! (No deadline.) This week's challenge, thanks to Taylor Graham:
•••Bragi: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bragi
•••And see the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one~
____________________
MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:
•••American Haiku: www.pe.com/2020/09/12/new-form-of-poetry-offers-american-take-on-the-haiku
•••Bragi: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/bragi
•••Ekphrastic: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Envoy (Envoi): pennyspoetry.fandom.com/wiki/Envoi
•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Haiku: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html
•••Harrisham Rhyme: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/harrishamrhyme.html
•••Iambic Pentameter: www.nosweatshakespeare.com/sonnets/iambic-pentameter
•••Quatrain: www.masterclass.com/articles/poetry-101-what-is-a-quatrain-in-poetry-quatrain-definition-with-examples#quiz-0
•••San Hsien: poetscollective.org/poetryforms/san-hsien
•••Sestina: www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/sestina OR www.wikihow.com/Write-a-Sestina
Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!
See what you can make of the above
photo, and send it to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)
***
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of
Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
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.
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
