Poetry Friday: The Ghazal

"The Weather" by Laurie Anderson,
Exhibit at the Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC

I'm not sure about this one-- maybe because lore has it the ghazal takes its name from the noise a gazelle makes while dying? I certainly gasped my last a few times, working on this non-narrative form which is held together with one rhyme that comes directly before a repeated ending refrain.  The first couplet signals the ghazal form's arrival by doing this twice; the rest of the couplets only have the rhyme/refrain combo in the second line.

And I say again: it's non-narrative. No story telling allowed. The effect is supposed to be one of a string of beads, each sufficient unto itself but tied together by the refrain. Or perhaps a mirror, shattered into revealing shards. Finally,  it's traditional for the poet to mention herself in the last couplet.  Ooof.  

I dunno.  To me, writing this felt like being made to comply with strict rules and yet, being completely adrift without narrative at the same time. But enough about process. This is about trying. DOING. Letting things be as they are and inviting the reader to make their own connections. Perhaps that, too is a form of our 2023 theme of transformation (conversion, alteration, metamorphosis, mutation, growth, evolution, revision, modulation, change.. )  I'm still not sure, but as I sprinkled a few of those transformation words into my ghazal, I could feel a poem forming....

Half the world

They say the ad is for oysters, yet there she is, but half

mutated—her mermaid tail the gut half;

They say if we bow to modulation twelve times a day, 

our risk of dying (but they only studied men) is cut by half.

They say: Someone else. Somewhere else.

Can’t you see evolution dictates we shut out half?

They say we can’t write of overflowing life-altering loss, of not now, 

not whole, of not even close to having somewhat half.

They say: would we like roast chicken with homegrown kumquats

and kale salad or hey, catch! one stale doughnut half?

They say I shouldn’t laugh at the erupting fountain 

when I chop the hairy shell of a coconut in half.

---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)

You can read more about the form here.  And my poetry sisters' ghazals can be found here:

Liz

Laura

Tricia

Tanita

Mary Lee

Kelly

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Patricia at Reverie. 

Poetry Friday: The Etheree (once more)

The March challenge was the etheree, an expanding syllable-based form we've attempted before (back in 2015, and also in 2020, although it looks like I skipped that one.) The first line has one syllable, the second, two, and so on until you reach the tenth line with ten syllables. 

Easy, right?  Well, except for picking the right one-syllable word to begin...and choosing a subject..and possibly sprinkling in some internal rhyme (if you want to.)  In truth, no challenge is ever "hard" or "easy," which makes our continual expectation that we know what we're up against each month hilariously foolish. And yet...we label our challenges anyway. Groan or gloat. Dread or delight. Until the actual writing begins, and then we have to jump in, ready or not, and see what words come. 

At least the inherent steady growth of this form lends itself well to our 2023 theme, which is transformation (conversion, alteration, metamorphosis,  mutation, growth, evolution, revision, modulation, change.. )

But, with all that, I still didn't have a subject in hand until I visited the National Cherry Blossom Kite Festival last Sunday. One event was labeled "Kite Ballet," which turned out to be kite-flying to music. But the more I listened (and watched the multitude of kites in the sky) the more I doubted that one dance form could hold what I saw. Instead, I tried to transform, over and over and over again, the initial "definition" of this event.  That led to Take #1, below.  

Kite ballet is...

Not

ballet,

but hip-hop,

kites pop and lock,

embattled X-wings; 

spring-drunk sky-flower blooms;

current-cranked deep sea creatures;

gust-lifted ghosts, soundless, spinning; 

love-floaty newlywed dragonflies; 

fly-boy flotillas in sky high beat boats.

           ---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved) 

I liked it.  But the next day, I set out to make those syllables dance harder.  So here's Take #2:

 

Kite  ballet is...

Not

ballet,

but bopping;

X-wing twerking; 

hip-hop high locking;

spring-drunk sky-blooms larking;

sea creatures current-cruising;

gust-lifted ghosts, soundless, meeting; 

dragonflies, newlywed love-woozy; 

brash boasting fly-boys, beat-beat-beat-beating.

                ---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)

My poetry sisters' etherees can be found here:

Liz

Laura

Tricia

Tanita

Mary Lee  (who is hosting Poetry Friday today!)

***For next month, we're writing poems in the style of Pablo Neruda.  So pick any of his poems, and see where it leads you! 

Poetry Friday: Talking back to Art

Fairy rock, Iceland

 

In February, we're still exploring our 2023 theme of transformation in all its forms: conversion, alteration, metamorphosis,  mutation, growth, evolution, revision, modulation, change..  (I'm going to repeat this list every month, for my own benefit, so I know how wide the possibilities are.)  We're also repeating a challenge we've done several times (and one I love):  ekphrastic poetry---which is a fancy way of saying poetry that responds to art. 

This challenge can be done anytime, anywhere a piece of art (painting, sculpture, graffiti, woodblock print, collage...etc.) inspires you to think longer and deeper about the world.  You know you've picked the right piece of art when you want to talk back to it---ask it questions, or dispute its premise, or praise its insight.  As a group, we each threw in two photos that could provoke such a response, and as of blogging this, I don't know what everyone picked.  

As for me, I picked my own photo, probably because I've been dying to talk to this troll woman ever since I saw her on the streets of Reykjavik, Iceland. 

Known as Iceland's "hidden people," trolls (along with  fairies and other folk not easily seen)  are often portrayed as greedy or evil.  But-- if you treat them with respect (the Icelanders say)-- they can be helpful and wise.  So instead of talking back to her, I thought I'd simply let her speak. 

What words would this giantess have for me, should she choose to reveal herself? 

 

Giantess

Sunlight will turn me to stone,

they say, leaving me cliff and fissure, 

strata and sediment, mineral and sand

my nose a crag, my eyes, two black nooks,

my arm, an outcrop of granite 

dangling over the sea 

So come, young one,

take a story; I’m unburdening

myself of invisibility. 

Soon, I will be rock,

forever seen. A mountain. 

I think I’ll like that.

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

You can find my poetry sisters ekphrastic poetry here;

Liz

Tricia

Kelly

Tanita

Laura

Mary Lee

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Tabitha Yeatts.  And for next month, here's  our challenge: 

Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge in the month of March. Here’s the scoop: we’re writing an etheree. This ten-line form begins with a single syllable, and each line expands by one syllable until the tenth line has ten. We’re continuing with our 2023 theme of transformation, but how you interpret that topically is up to you. You have a month to craft your creation and share it on March 31st (hosted here at {fiction, instead of lies!}) in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals.

What stories do you  have to tell?