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:
Tricia
Poetry Friday is hosted today by BookSeedStudio.
