No don’t worry I am not planning on offloading some of my quite pathetic attempts at poetry on to the unsuspecting (and precious few) readers of Stories and more.
But yet I couldn’t help sharing some lovely pieces penned by my dear friend Suraja. She is an awesome poet (among other things) and pens all sorts of poems, but I admit to being partial to her tanka and haibun.
Tanka refers to a popular form of Japanese poetry consisting of only five lines, with restrictions on syllable count for each line. These short ‘songs’ not only focus on painting crisp clear images yet are also capable of evoking intense emotions such as yearning, intimacy, love and loss, through the subtle use of implication and suggestion.
the promises we made,
kept, broke, laughed and cried over
such drama
the sky bruised at sunset
with oranges and purples and reds
By the way, did you note the first three lines and the last three lines are stand alone poems and images? And yet when read together, a completely different image leaving one gasping at the apt and evocative parallel between relationships and ‘sky bruised at sunset‘
Moving on to the haibun, this is also of Japanese origin. Haibun is the combination of prose and haiku (a three lined poem).
Planting marigolds in the heat. I scoop up a shovelful of soil and a pink shiny earthworm wriggles out. Not a speck of dirt on it, I muse, even though it lives and burrows in the mud. I scratch my arm with my muddied glove absently, leaving a streak of black. No earthworm am I, grinning to myself. Another scoop, and a hairy root pops out, like a quivering straggly mustache. What if there’s a face under it, I think ghoulishly. A bead of sweat grows on my forehead and settles like an ache between my brows. I tilt my head forward and will it to run down my nose. Will it? Or won’t it? It does, to my triumph and I giggle as I gently shake my head back and forth to let it drip into the hole recently vacated by the earthworm. My giggle echoes back….I look up to see two young girls walking by, laughing at the crazy woman shaking her head at the earth.
laughter
flying back and forth
crows
Isnt that simply awesome ?
If you like, you can read more at allpoetry.com for free.
Before you rush off, how about a look at Calvin? Perhaps even Chapter 38
A few thoughts about poetry:
Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful. – Rita Dove
There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired. — Edward Young
There is poetry as soon as we realize we possess nothing. – John Cage
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. – Carl Sandburg
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession. – Robert Frost
Until Friday then and oh, don’t forget to exercise your fingers 😉
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