Poetic theory discusses different approaches to poetry. Two of the most common are accentual and syllabic. (There is also a third approach, durational, which I find now and then mentioned; but for the sake of simplicity I’m going to stick to just accentual and syllabic approaches.) The idea here is that some languages organize poetry according to accent, or emphasis, and some languages organize poetry according to syllables.
English is considered to be an accentual and syllabic poetic culture. The most common example of this is “iambic pentameter”. What is counted in pentameter are five accents, or emphases, in a line. Most such lines will contain 10 syllables because an iamb consists of both an accented and unaccented syllables. But there are exceptions; such as the feminine ending where there will be five accents but an extra syllable which is unaccented. There are also other mitigating usages which can alter the syllable count from the standard 10. But the five accents is primary; hence an accentual approach dominates English language verse.
Japanese and French are examples of syllabic approaches to poetry. In Japanese and French only the syllables are counted in defining a poetic form. This is because both of these languages are far less accented, or alternately stressed, than English (or other Germanic languages).
I have a somewhat different approach. In my view all poetry is primarily syllabic. And poetry is the shaping and crafting of words through the medium of syllables. In the way that baking is primarily the craft of shaping flour, poetry is the craft of shaping syllables. In the way that pottery is the craft of shaping clay into specific forms, poetry is the craft of shaping syllables into specific forms.
In other words, I view syllables as the basic medium of poetry, just as flour is the basic medium of baking, just as clay is the basic medium of pottery, just as wood is the basic medium of carpentry. Various tools are used to shape syllables and the use of these tools is what I mean by syllabics. Among these tools are: counting, accent, duration, rhyme, rhythm, meter, grammatical phrasing, etc. Different languages tend to emphasize some of these tools and to ignore others. English tends to use accent, counting, and rhyme. Japanese poetry tends to use counting and grammatical phrasing (I am referring to the use of cutting words). Chinese tends to use counting and rhyme. But all these different approaches have syllables as their basic medium.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Emeralds: A Solo Shisan
Emeralds
April afternoon;
A surprisingly cool wind
For this time of year
The garden's are holding back
Waiting for the earth to warm
He thinks about it.
He decides not to tell her.
What good would it do?
***
Only a short time ago
The whole area was farms
Rows of lemon trees
Blooming in the gentle wind,
Warm even at night
Her replacement doesn't show
So she takes a second shift
***
At the hospital
In the emergency room
They wait patiently
No one notices the moon
Full in the crisp and clear sky
He just says, "Hello."
She spent a lot of money
At the hairdresser
***
Crowds gather at the new store
For its Grand Opening Sale
Even though it's cold
And even though it's snowing
It's still beautiful
A garland of emeralds
With some semi-precious stones
April afternoon;
A surprisingly cool wind
For this time of year
The garden's are holding back
Waiting for the earth to warm
He thinks about it.
He decides not to tell her.
What good would it do?
***
Only a short time ago
The whole area was farms
Rows of lemon trees
Blooming in the gentle wind,
Warm even at night
Her replacement doesn't show
So she takes a second shift
***
At the hospital
In the emergency room
They wait patiently
No one notices the moon
Full in the crisp and clear sky
He just says, "Hello."
She spent a lot of money
At the hairdresser
***
Crowds gather at the new store
For its Grand Opening Sale
Even though it's cold
And even though it's snowing
It's still beautiful
A garland of emeralds
With some semi-precious stones
Monday, May 12, 2008
A Haikai Community
Good Friends:
I work at a small book and tea store called Many Rivers Books and Tea. The store hosts weekly events and readings. Last Friday the store hosted two poets, Pat Nolan and Keith Abbot, who have been practicing Haikai Renga, or Renku (they used both terms) for about 30 years. Since I have previously posted on the benefits of solo renga, I thought I'd post here my impressions of this more traditional group approach.
The group consists of four or five poets (I was a little confused about the number; one person might have been referred to by more than one nickname). The group has been doing the 36 verse Kasen style of Renga, in the spirit of Basho, for about a decade. I was excited that an actual community devoted to Renga had evolved and lasted. I found it inspiring.
They refer to themselves as the "Miner School of Haikai", after the scholar Earl Miner and his scholarly presentation of Haikai, "Japanese Linked Verse", which is their source and authority for most matters. That is to say, when there is some kind of disagreement about form, they defer to Miner's work. I think this might be a reason the group has lasted so long; because they have an authority to defer to who is not an actual member of their group. I suspect this reduces possible interpersonal disagreements. Miner died a few years ago, but before he died they were in written communication with him and would ask him questions about points that arose as their practice of Haikai proceeded. They laughingly said that Miner at times admired, and at times deplored, their efforts.
They also spoke of how the different personalities of the members are reflected in their links. One member writes in a very "plain" style; meaning, I think, that this member will write about very ordinary things. Another member loves to throw in something very eccentric and enjoys pushing the edge. It seemed to me that the four of them have a very good balance from the way it was described so that the flow of the Haikai is consistently refreshed by these different personalities.
One aspect they mentioned was that over time they have become more true to traditional syllabics; that is to say the verses are more and more alternating 14 and 17 syllable stanzas. This wasn't a conscious decision on their part, it naturally evolved over the years. They mentioned how it has become easier to write in this manner.
In some ways the group is experimental. For example, they accept any kind of flower, not just flowering trees, for the traditional placement of the flower verse. I'm aware of others who have adopted this interpretation in the west. On the other hand, they stick closely to the moon placements and they include the love stanzas as well. Under Miner's influence, they also repeat each stanza and in the repetition they allow themselves to shift a pronoun in order to facilitate a link to the following verse. This is something Miner did in his translations of Haikai, but it hasn't been followed by subsequent scholars. Personally, I prefer the steady flow of not repeating the verses. The group is aware that in Japan the verses are not repeated, but they find that this approach works for them and it is one of the reasons they refer to themselves as the Miner School of Haikai.
It was a pleasure to hear about, and to meet some of those involved in, an ongoing group devoted to Haikai. My hope is that such groups can blossom elsewhere in the future.
Best wishes,
Jim
I work at a small book and tea store called Many Rivers Books and Tea. The store hosts weekly events and readings. Last Friday the store hosted two poets, Pat Nolan and Keith Abbot, who have been practicing Haikai Renga, or Renku (they used both terms) for about 30 years. Since I have previously posted on the benefits of solo renga, I thought I'd post here my impressions of this more traditional group approach.
The group consists of four or five poets (I was a little confused about the number; one person might have been referred to by more than one nickname). The group has been doing the 36 verse Kasen style of Renga, in the spirit of Basho, for about a decade. I was excited that an actual community devoted to Renga had evolved and lasted. I found it inspiring.
They refer to themselves as the "Miner School of Haikai", after the scholar Earl Miner and his scholarly presentation of Haikai, "Japanese Linked Verse", which is their source and authority for most matters. That is to say, when there is some kind of disagreement about form, they defer to Miner's work. I think this might be a reason the group has lasted so long; because they have an authority to defer to who is not an actual member of their group. I suspect this reduces possible interpersonal disagreements. Miner died a few years ago, but before he died they were in written communication with him and would ask him questions about points that arose as their practice of Haikai proceeded. They laughingly said that Miner at times admired, and at times deplored, their efforts.
They also spoke of how the different personalities of the members are reflected in their links. One member writes in a very "plain" style; meaning, I think, that this member will write about very ordinary things. Another member loves to throw in something very eccentric and enjoys pushing the edge. It seemed to me that the four of them have a very good balance from the way it was described so that the flow of the Haikai is consistently refreshed by these different personalities.
One aspect they mentioned was that over time they have become more true to traditional syllabics; that is to say the verses are more and more alternating 14 and 17 syllable stanzas. This wasn't a conscious decision on their part, it naturally evolved over the years. They mentioned how it has become easier to write in this manner.
In some ways the group is experimental. For example, they accept any kind of flower, not just flowering trees, for the traditional placement of the flower verse. I'm aware of others who have adopted this interpretation in the west. On the other hand, they stick closely to the moon placements and they include the love stanzas as well. Under Miner's influence, they also repeat each stanza and in the repetition they allow themselves to shift a pronoun in order to facilitate a link to the following verse. This is something Miner did in his translations of Haikai, but it hasn't been followed by subsequent scholars. Personally, I prefer the steady flow of not repeating the verses. The group is aware that in Japan the verses are not repeated, but they find that this approach works for them and it is one of the reasons they refer to themselves as the Miner School of Haikai.
It was a pleasure to hear about, and to meet some of those involved in, an ongoing group devoted to Haikai. My hope is that such groups can blossom elsewhere in the future.
Best wishes,
Jim
Friday, May 9, 2008
Thoreau Upon the Rivers: A Solo Junicho
Cool summer morning
The blue sky promises heat
Later in the day
Gemini insects call forth
A contrapuntal texture
The not quite full moon
A space station by its side
Glides through the heavens
Seen through the sick-room window
After drawing the curtains
She brings some flowers
And a package of incense
To her mother's bed
The hours move so slowly
And the silence feels so thick
Dinner with a friend,
"I didn't see it coming."
Some tears in his eyes
Digging through a Pomo mound,
Shards and remnants and some bones
Once again telling
The immigration story
Of their grandparents
A cascade of autumn leaves
And the high tide shifts the sand
Geese traverse the sky,
A journey of many miles,
And the setting sun
Thoreau upon the rivers
With a brother who's never named
The blue sky promises heat
Later in the day
Gemini insects call forth
A contrapuntal texture
The not quite full moon
A space station by its side
Glides through the heavens
Seen through the sick-room window
After drawing the curtains
She brings some flowers
And a package of incense
To her mother's bed
The hours move so slowly
And the silence feels so thick
Dinner with a friend,
"I didn't see it coming."
Some tears in his eyes
Digging through a Pomo mound,
Shards and remnants and some bones
Once again telling
The immigration story
Of their grandparents
A cascade of autumn leaves
And the high tide shifts the sand
Geese traverse the sky,
A journey of many miles,
And the setting sun
Thoreau upon the rivers
With a brother who's never named
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Syllabics: 1
Good Friends:
I am starting a series of posts today under a common title which I’m calling “Syllabics”. The overall purpose of this series of posts will be to present the case for a syllabic approach to Japanese Poetry. One of the purposes of this series is to present the idea that English language poets can approach Japanese forms of poetry by mimicking the syllabic structure of Japanese forms of poetry. Basically, I am presenting the idea that just as the Sonnet was transmitted from Italy to France and England by mimicking the original syllable count as it appeared in Italian and then mimicking that syllable count in French and English, so also such forms as Haiku, Tanka, and Renga can be transmitted to the English language world through mimicking Japanese syllable count in English.
This is a minority view. Most poets currently writing in Japanese forms in English do not mimic the syllabic structure of Japanese poetry when they write in English or other non-Japanese languages. There are a number of reasons for this; the issue is complex. Accordingly, this series will have two major emphases. The first, and more important, is to present the positive case for such a syllabic approach. The second, is to present an alternative view regarding the idea that such a syllabic approach is misguided.
It has been my experience that discussions along these lines can become contentious. So I want to say here that my purpose is not to argue that people should only write poetry in a particular way, or that there is only one way to write Haiku, or Tanka; I am not trying to lay down universal rules for correct Renga. Rather I view this series as apologetic in the sense of a defense for syllabic mimicking as a valid approach to Japanese Poetry in English.
I originally set out to write something systematic. The influence of my philosophy background pushed me in that direction. As I attempted to do so, however, I found the approach yielded a heavy, complex, pedantic, overly repetitive, and overly argumentative document that even I found boring. So I decided to change my mode of presentation. Since this series deals primarily with Japanese Poetry, I decided to adopt a style sometimes known as the “flow of the brush”, or “pen”. This is to say letting the pen lead and not sticking to an outline or sequential presentation. This style is famously known in Kenko’s “Essays in Idleness”, but it has deep roots in East Asian culture. For example, the “Analects” of Confucius can be viewed as written in this mode. I refer to this mode of writing as the “collage” approach. The overall impact emerges from viewing the whole work and the interaction of the sections.
I hope that others will find this series on syllabics of some use. Comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
Jim
I am starting a series of posts today under a common title which I’m calling “Syllabics”. The overall purpose of this series of posts will be to present the case for a syllabic approach to Japanese Poetry. One of the purposes of this series is to present the idea that English language poets can approach Japanese forms of poetry by mimicking the syllabic structure of Japanese forms of poetry. Basically, I am presenting the idea that just as the Sonnet was transmitted from Italy to France and England by mimicking the original syllable count as it appeared in Italian and then mimicking that syllable count in French and English, so also such forms as Haiku, Tanka, and Renga can be transmitted to the English language world through mimicking Japanese syllable count in English.
This is a minority view. Most poets currently writing in Japanese forms in English do not mimic the syllabic structure of Japanese poetry when they write in English or other non-Japanese languages. There are a number of reasons for this; the issue is complex. Accordingly, this series will have two major emphases. The first, and more important, is to present the positive case for such a syllabic approach. The second, is to present an alternative view regarding the idea that such a syllabic approach is misguided.
It has been my experience that discussions along these lines can become contentious. So I want to say here that my purpose is not to argue that people should only write poetry in a particular way, or that there is only one way to write Haiku, or Tanka; I am not trying to lay down universal rules for correct Renga. Rather I view this series as apologetic in the sense of a defense for syllabic mimicking as a valid approach to Japanese Poetry in English.
I originally set out to write something systematic. The influence of my philosophy background pushed me in that direction. As I attempted to do so, however, I found the approach yielded a heavy, complex, pedantic, overly repetitive, and overly argumentative document that even I found boring. So I decided to change my mode of presentation. Since this series deals primarily with Japanese Poetry, I decided to adopt a style sometimes known as the “flow of the brush”, or “pen”. This is to say letting the pen lead and not sticking to an outline or sequential presentation. This style is famously known in Kenko’s “Essays in Idleness”, but it has deep roots in East Asian culture. For example, the “Analects” of Confucius can be viewed as written in this mode. I refer to this mode of writing as the “collage” approach. The overall impact emerges from viewing the whole work and the interaction of the sections.
I hope that others will find this series on syllabics of some use. Comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
Jim
Monday, May 5, 2008
Ancient Hymn: A Solo Shisan
Ancient Hymn
Cool mornings give way
To weekend hikes with old friends
In warm afternoons
With a few hawthorns blooming
At the entrance to the park
Two lovers hold hands
And dream of hours together
And a long future
***
The fountain at the courthouse
Is turned off to save water
The heat of the day
Continues into evening
Though the sky is clear
A comet, for a few nights,
Appears on the horizon
***
While at the zenith,
In the cool October air,
The half-full waxing moon
Lighting the deserted walk
That meanders through the park
Several flashlights
As policemen scan the grounds
For possible clues
***
The snowfall accumulates
(A world without rough edges)
On the Christmas trees,
For Sale at the Used Car Lot,
Many-colored lights
Dad sings to his son a hymn,
A song that's ancient and new
Cool mornings give way
To weekend hikes with old friends
In warm afternoons
With a few hawthorns blooming
At the entrance to the park
Two lovers hold hands
And dream of hours together
And a long future
***
The fountain at the courthouse
Is turned off to save water
The heat of the day
Continues into evening
Though the sky is clear
A comet, for a few nights,
Appears on the horizon
***
While at the zenith,
In the cool October air,
The half-full waxing moon
Lighting the deserted walk
That meanders through the park
Several flashlights
As policemen scan the grounds
For possible clues
***
The snowfall accumulates
(A world without rough edges)
On the Christmas trees,
For Sale at the Used Car Lot,
Many-colored lights
Dad sings to his son a hymn,
A song that's ancient and new
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Solo Renga
Good Friends:
I first started using some of the 12-verse renga forms to experiment with certain approaches to renga that I wanted to explore. Initially I wanted to explore the relationship between time and season and what happens when time and season are treated as separate categories. I found the 12 Verse forms congenial to these kinds of experiments because they were short enough to enact the experiment in a reasonable period of time, yet long enough to contain many of the basic elements of the longer traditional forms of renga, such as the 36 and 100 verse forms.
Because I was experimenting with non-traditional categories I deliberately did not want to have partners until I had the opportunity to observe what happened. Does the theory that time and season can be treated as separate categories work out in actual usage? That was my key question and the 12-verse forms proved helpful in creating conditions for being able to answer that question.
After a while I discovered that I had written a large number of these solo 12-verse renga. At some point I began to notice how much I enjoyed writing solo 12-verse renga and I began to write them whether or not I had a specific experiment in mind. I began writing these solo renga out of simple enjoyment. I had the same feeling I get when writing other solo forms, such as tanka and sonnet. I thought I would share some of the thoughts which have arisen on writing solo renga. These thoughts are in no particular order.
1. Renga is traditionally a group effort. But there have always been examples of solo renga, and some of them are really excellent. A few have been translated. So solo renga are known, but seem to be thought of as a kind of wayward stepchild of the form. I can understand that, and in some ways I feel the same way. Nevertheless, the solo renga is sanctioned by tradition and is not a radical departure for the form.
2. I suspect that more people would write renga if the solo form were more sanctioned, more honored. It is difficult to find a group of like-minded people to compose a participation renga. First, very few people in the west know about renga. Second, among those who do know about it, few are interested in actually writing renga. Third, even if someone knows about renga and is interested enough to actually write it, finding the time and place to get together to actually do so is often problematic.
All of these difficulties are diminished in the practice of solo renga. Just as someone interested in the sonnet can simply begin to practice the sonnet (all they need is a desk and some paper), just as someone interested in tanka can simply begin to practice tanka, so also someone interested in renga can simply begin to practice renga by writing solo renga.
3. By writing solo renga the dedicated practitioner has an opportunity to perfect the craft of renga with the steadiness and dedication that other crafts, done solo, have to offer. Having written a renga, one can observe link and shift, seasonal flow, placement of required topics, etc. One can refine one’s approach. It is similar to practicing a musical instrument at home. One listens carefully to one’s own musicianship, noting areas that need to be improved. Or it is similar to potters perfecting their craft on the pottery wheel.
4. One of the differences between the solo renga and the participation renga, with multiple authors, is that the solo renga tends to have a more uniform voice. The traditional solution to this has been to suggest that if one is writing a solo renga one wear several “masks” while writing. For example, you might wear the mask of a novice renga poet, or the mask of an elderly woman, or the mask of an executive who doesn’t have much time. By wearing these masks one facilitates the shift in voice that a participation renga naturally offers.
On the other hand, I have come to think that the more uniform voice possible in a solo renga can also be considered a virtue of the solo renga, particularly when done in English, or another non-Japanese language. I think that we have had a tendency to exaggerate the degree to which different voices in a participation renga actually differ. I say this because in traditional renga all participants are committed to a fixed syllabic structure, a structure that no one deviates from. In the west, however, it is very common for line length to shift radically from person to person. In some renga I have observed there is almost no unity of line length as one proceeds through the renga. For this reason, in many English language participation renga the difference in tone of voice as one moves from one participant to another can be greater than what one would find in a Japanese participation renga where the participants are committed to a uniform syllabic flow.
In other words, I am suggesting that a solo renga, done in English, in some ways, more closely resembles the overall flow of a traditional Japanese renga because a solo renga in English is more likely to have a standard approach to syllabics, to line length or lineation.
5. Finally, writing solo renga is rewarding. It is rewarding in the same way that writing in any other poetic form is rewarding. Just as crafting a sonnet has its reward, so also crafting a renga on one’s own has its rewards. The beauty of a well-done renga is there whether done by a group or by an individual.
Best wishes,
Jim
I first started using some of the 12-verse renga forms to experiment with certain approaches to renga that I wanted to explore. Initially I wanted to explore the relationship between time and season and what happens when time and season are treated as separate categories. I found the 12 Verse forms congenial to these kinds of experiments because they were short enough to enact the experiment in a reasonable period of time, yet long enough to contain many of the basic elements of the longer traditional forms of renga, such as the 36 and 100 verse forms.
Because I was experimenting with non-traditional categories I deliberately did not want to have partners until I had the opportunity to observe what happened. Does the theory that time and season can be treated as separate categories work out in actual usage? That was my key question and the 12-verse forms proved helpful in creating conditions for being able to answer that question.
After a while I discovered that I had written a large number of these solo 12-verse renga. At some point I began to notice how much I enjoyed writing solo 12-verse renga and I began to write them whether or not I had a specific experiment in mind. I began writing these solo renga out of simple enjoyment. I had the same feeling I get when writing other solo forms, such as tanka and sonnet. I thought I would share some of the thoughts which have arisen on writing solo renga. These thoughts are in no particular order.
1. Renga is traditionally a group effort. But there have always been examples of solo renga, and some of them are really excellent. A few have been translated. So solo renga are known, but seem to be thought of as a kind of wayward stepchild of the form. I can understand that, and in some ways I feel the same way. Nevertheless, the solo renga is sanctioned by tradition and is not a radical departure for the form.
2. I suspect that more people would write renga if the solo form were more sanctioned, more honored. It is difficult to find a group of like-minded people to compose a participation renga. First, very few people in the west know about renga. Second, among those who do know about it, few are interested in actually writing renga. Third, even if someone knows about renga and is interested enough to actually write it, finding the time and place to get together to actually do so is often problematic.
All of these difficulties are diminished in the practice of solo renga. Just as someone interested in the sonnet can simply begin to practice the sonnet (all they need is a desk and some paper), just as someone interested in tanka can simply begin to practice tanka, so also someone interested in renga can simply begin to practice renga by writing solo renga.
3. By writing solo renga the dedicated practitioner has an opportunity to perfect the craft of renga with the steadiness and dedication that other crafts, done solo, have to offer. Having written a renga, one can observe link and shift, seasonal flow, placement of required topics, etc. One can refine one’s approach. It is similar to practicing a musical instrument at home. One listens carefully to one’s own musicianship, noting areas that need to be improved. Or it is similar to potters perfecting their craft on the pottery wheel.
4. One of the differences between the solo renga and the participation renga, with multiple authors, is that the solo renga tends to have a more uniform voice. The traditional solution to this has been to suggest that if one is writing a solo renga one wear several “masks” while writing. For example, you might wear the mask of a novice renga poet, or the mask of an elderly woman, or the mask of an executive who doesn’t have much time. By wearing these masks one facilitates the shift in voice that a participation renga naturally offers.
On the other hand, I have come to think that the more uniform voice possible in a solo renga can also be considered a virtue of the solo renga, particularly when done in English, or another non-Japanese language. I think that we have had a tendency to exaggerate the degree to which different voices in a participation renga actually differ. I say this because in traditional renga all participants are committed to a fixed syllabic structure, a structure that no one deviates from. In the west, however, it is very common for line length to shift radically from person to person. In some renga I have observed there is almost no unity of line length as one proceeds through the renga. For this reason, in many English language participation renga the difference in tone of voice as one moves from one participant to another can be greater than what one would find in a Japanese participation renga where the participants are committed to a uniform syllabic flow.
In other words, I am suggesting that a solo renga, done in English, in some ways, more closely resembles the overall flow of a traditional Japanese renga because a solo renga in English is more likely to have a standard approach to syllabics, to line length or lineation.
5. Finally, writing solo renga is rewarding. It is rewarding in the same way that writing in any other poetic form is rewarding. Just as crafting a sonnet has its reward, so also crafting a renga on one’s own has its rewards. The beauty of a well-done renga is there whether done by a group or by an individual.
Best wishes,
Jim
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)