Poetry Friday: The Tanku

 It's a new year of poetry challenges! And this year, I've vowed to be more prepared, more present, and more committed.  Will it hold?  I don't know, but I do know that writing poetry with my poetry sisters---and the wider world of all of you who observe Poetry Friday--is good for my soul.  Let's encourage each other, ok? And more specifically, let's be in conversation, because that's the overarching theme we've chosen for 2025.  All our poems will be aware of the value of listening, responding, and interacting with others with the purpose of deeper understanding. 

With that theme in mind, January's challenge was a tanku--a hybrid form that consists of one tanka (5/7/5/7/7) followed by an answering haiku (5/7/5)  It's shorter challenge, by design, since January always jumps out at us like an unexpected snow storm while we're still digging out from the holidays...am I right? 

 But like all forms new to me, it took some fiddling about to realize the potential here.  In a conversation, the "offer" (as it's often called in improv) and the "response" should be connected but distinct. We can both affirm (say yes) and move the conversation forward (the yes AND part.) So, too, with the tanku.  The tanka sets up imagery, and the haiku responds to that in a fresh way. Or so we hope.  And--here's where I saw the potential--you can also string the tanku together so the conversation meanders on a bit, if you find the topic interesting or have a lot to say.  

And I did have such a topic because luckily, a friend had invited me to the symphony at the Kennedy Center the evening before I began to draft my poem. I'm a neophyte to symphonies, at least live ones, and so I came to the performance with extra excitement of not knowing what to expect, which was compounded by the fact that there was no paper program, only a digital QR code (which I did not use until the intermission.) I was immediately struck by how different the pre-game is for the symphony than it is for the theater I'm used to, with no curtain to hide the warmup.  I was intrigued to see performers quietly laughing and occasionally talking to each other in a relaxed way as they tested their bows and reeds before the conductor arrived, with no visible jitters, at least not to me.  And then there was the matter of the dress code---no one wants to upstage the music, so the orchestra was a sea of black uniformity. Again, so different from the diverse costumes of the theater.  And yet...when the show got down to business-- the amazing, focused, terrifyingly challenging business of making complicated music as one voice---it was very much like the team work of a great play.  

I enjoyed it all thoroughly, even though I knew little about the music being performed.  Later, I read this review in the Post, and understood more of what was happening, including the unique greatness of the first piece (which I adored) and the fact that the guest conductor was making his debut. But in the moment, I saw little things amongst the big things, and that is what I chose to write my series of tanku about---a mini conversation between what my "beginner mind" saw and the complexity of what I was hearing.  It was my self-made program if you will. 

 Gabriela Ortiz's Téenek — Invenciones de Territorio

at the symphony

no curtain; warm-up exposed;

casual notes blare—

bodies jostle, cozy close; 

the baton lifts; our hearts heat 

a storm strikes the stage

birds scatter, wildly singing 

ravishing thunder 

Beethoven’s “Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor

at the symphony

a black-limbed army of bows

salutes Beethoven.

I scout the dark-footed ranks

for a flash of rebellion.

all tidy on stage

but bouncing in seat four F:

a white pom-pom hat

Sergei Rachmaninoff’s “Symphonic Dances"

at the symphony

the QR code is useless

I'm disarmed, bootless 

at the edge of the known world

dizzied by movie music

those who know the score

are no more free than you from

the map of whirlpools 

----Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved) 

You can find my sister poets' posts here:

Liz

Tanita

Tricia

Mary Lee

Laura

Poetry Friday is hosted today by BookSeedStudio. 

Poetry Friday: Inspired by Jane Hirshfield's Two Versions

November's challenge was to take a line or theme from Jane Hirshfield's lovely poem, "Two Versions," and create a new poem with it. I can't link to the poem online, but it can be found in her latest collection, The Asking.  

I love this kind of challenge because great poets distill so much into their lines that if you choose one--almost any line, really---you are already super-charged with striking imagery and potent ideas.  For me, the line that stood out was the second in Hirshfield's poem, which begins:

In the first version, I slept by a stream

All night awake things traveled near.

"Awake things traveling near" immediately made me think of my childhood, of discovering I could manipulate my vision as I fell asleep.  (It's possibly a remembrance of lucid dreaming--who can say?) I took the line as the title of my new poem, and dived in:

All night awake things traveled near

    (inspired by Jane Hirshfield's Two Versions)

This is my remembrance of magic:

in the darkness, I floated 

on the lake of half-sleep

where the islands of faerie, 

glinting with life, drifted

in the black satin air.

With eager, powerful strokes,

on purpose, on purpose,

I swam to them, to witness

thumb-sized women stringing

washing on cobwebs; 

giggling boys sloshing 

water in acorns from wells;

messy-haired girls wielding

brooms of beetle legs--

the most ordinary

of tasks to spy upon, 

a holy observation

of awake things

traveling near.

-------Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved) 

My poetry sisters' inspired poems can be found here:

Liz

Laura

Tricia

Kelly

Mary Lee

Tanita (who is hosting Poetry Friday today!)

Poetry Friday: Seven Ways of Looking

September's challenge was to write a poem in the vein of Wallace Stevens' Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird---except we were only going to attempt SEVEN ways of looking at something.

It turns out the hard part was not the number of stanzas (looks?) but deciding on a thing worth looking at.  In theory, all things are worthy of poetry, but the brilliance of the original poem begins with the fact that Wallace Stevens chose to feature a blackbird-- something that is both ordinary and symbolic, and also dynamic--the bird can move, swoop, circle.  As a result, we get a gorgeous swirling, dipping in and out of reality feeling as we read his poem. 

Oddly enough, though, we learn little of the blackbird itself, for this is not fact-based poem, seeking to illuminate the bird's unique qualities. Instead, after we read the poem, we wind up thinking less about the blackbird and more about  how everything is connected. (Or at least I do---here's my extended dive into the poem, if you're interested.) 

How in the world to replicate that? 

I was at a loss during our ZOOM writing session, so I decided to hew closely to the original poem, seeking to imitate its rhythms.  I find that approach often works as a place to begin, and then I can manipulate the draft so it isn't a complete copy-cat.  However, I still had the problem of what to write about, so I took the object at hand---the poem itself.  Yup.  Maybe a dodge, but this poem has always called to me, and writing about how it made me feel was the best I could manage this month.  

Here it is: 

Seven Ways of Looking at a Poem

The poem is beating its wings.

My heart must be flying. 

I know free fall,

and updrafts. But 

I know, too— this poem

is dense as spun glass.

The poem circles

and circles and circles

the snowy mountain.

It was morning

all day. I eat

nothing. The poem

preens. 

 

I don’t know which

to prefer—reading the poem,

or the silence afterwards.

Later, when I 

walk between the hedges,

the poem shoots a bird

out of the sky,

lays it at my feet.

On the page,

the only thing breathing

is the poem.

                                                ---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)

My Poetry Sisters "ways of looking" can be found here:

Liz

Tanita

Tricia

Kelly

Laura

Mary Lee

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Irene Latham.