Conversing with the Rules

Conversing with the Rules

Here is a Haiku by James Hackett:

Old shadowy snow

melting in a shallow pond . . .

the summit beyond!

(Haiku Poetry, Volume Two, James Hackett, page 62)

I happened to turn to this Haiku in a random way after re-reading Hackett’s ‘Suggestions for Writing Haiku in English’.  The ‘Suggestions’ are appended to his Haiku at the end of the volume.  There are seventeen ‘Suggestions’.  They are a model of clarity and offer the reader insight into Hackett’s views of how Haiku should be written and shaped.  Suggestion 12 is, “Avoid end rhyme in haiku.  Read each verse aloud to make sure that it sounds natural.”

I have to admit, I got a kick out of the association.  It also demonstrated to me that Hackett doesn’t feel bound by his own ‘suggestions’; meaning, I think, that the suggestions are not rules.  I mean they are not rules in the sense that the rules for chess are rules; in the sense that if you break a rule in chess it means that you are cheating.  The rules for chess are not ‘suggestions’.

This got me to thinking about the function of rules in poetry in general.  Jane Reichhold has a very funny list of rules “that have come and gone” for the diminutive haiku.  There are 65 (yikes!) such rules.  (Writing and Enjoying Haiku, Jane Reichhold, pages 75 – 79).  It is sobering to read this list; it is also very funny.

Thinking about rules lead me to thinking about the rules for Renga; because Renga is a highly rule-bound form (I think it is in the running for the most rule-bound form of poetry evah!).  There is a significant, in the sense of highly influential, manual for Renga poets translated by Steven Carter in his book “The Road to Komatsubara”.  It is Shohaku’s Renga Rulebook, with the unassuming title, ‘The New Rules of Linked Verse, with Kanera’s New Ideas on the New Rules and Additional Comments by Shohaku’.  Phew!  Let’s just call it Shohaku’s Renga Rulebook. 

The interesting thing about this Renga Rulebook, written in 1501, is that it is based on previous Renga Rulebooks; but it preserves what the previous authors had to say, even when Shohaku disagrees.  Carter writes,

“One might expect of Shohaku, after his many years of study and compilation, a thorough revision of the rules; but . . . a different approach to the task of emendation was taken.  Rather than an open revision, Shohaku’s work is an interlinear commentary – sometimes a critical commentary – on the rules of Yohsimoto and Kanera. [Yoshimoto and Kanera each wrote early Renga Rulebooks.]  To read the rulebook of 1501 is to read Yoshimoto, Kanera, and Shohaku, along with some anonymous voices, in a kind of running discussion or argument.  Preserving the rules in both their original and emended forms {Shohaku’s Rulebook} is thus a complex and at times confusing text . . . But the work’s greatest fault is also its greatest virtue, for it allows the reader a chance to see exactly what kind of changes had taken place during the first century and a half of the rule’s existence.” (The Road to Komatsubara, pages 36 and 37)

And sure enough, starting right off with Rule 1, we enter into this kind of conversation:

I.  Rhyme

Yoshimoto:  Verses ending with the names of things, as well as those ending with compounds such as “morn and eve,” do not clash with verses that end with inflective words.  But verses ending with the names of things should be separated from each other by more than one verse.

Shohaku:  Words such as shigure, “showers,” or yugure, “nightfall,” do not clash according to current thinking.

Yoshimoto: The final inflections tsutsu, keri, kana, ramu, shite, and all others of the same sort should be separated from each other by more than one verse.

Kanera:  In modern times, kana is allowed in the first verse of a sequence, while its variant form, the “request” gana; may also be used once. No other uses are permitted.

Shohaku:  The “request” gana, if used at all, should appear only after the end of the first sheet.

(The Road to Komatsubara, page 41)

So there you have it.  Right out in the open the varying opinions and views of three Renga Masters.  Yoshimoto would not allow for an end-rhyme of shigure and yugure but Shohaku says they ‘do not clash according to current thinking’.  (As an aside, some of Basho’s haiku use this kind of rhyme.) 

I find Shohaku’s approach highly admirable and highly entertaining.  For one thing, it humanizes the rule-givers.  For another, this kind of transparency, to my way of thinking, actually invites us to enter into the conversation. 

What if we had such transparency today in English Language Haiku?  Wouldn’t it be just the coolest thing if we had something similar for ELH?  I mean we could take Hackett’s seventeen ‘Suggestions’ and publish the kind of conversation that Shohaku used in his Renga Rulebook.  For example, here is Suggestion 8:

Hackett:  Use verbs in present tense.

Wilson:  In modern times haiku poets use the full range of English language tenses.

Or how about Suggestion 11:

Hackett: Write in three lines which total approximately 17 syllables.

Higginson: For haiku in English an overall form consisting of seven accented syllables, plus unaccented syllables up to a total of about twelve, would yield a rhythmical structure native to English . . .

Coomler: We make no attempt to adopt this 5-7-5 form.  Instead we simply keep hokku brief, with no superfluous words . . .

Gurga:  The great majority of haiku now published in English do not follow a set syllabic form.

Strand:  The place to begin is counting syllables – five-seven-five. . . When you count the syllables for a haiku on your fingers and select a season word, already you have touched the mind of Basho and all the other haiku poets of the past.

Reichhold: Whether you fill the lines of your own haiku with seventeen syllables, or make your lines short, long, short, is a decision which you as writer will have to make.

Wilson:  In modern times, counting syllables, 5-7-5, has proven to be efficacious for a large number of haiku poets.

You can add your own; of course.  But the significant thing to me is to enter into the conversation, to feel free to comment, emend, adjudicate, etc.  Poetry forms change over time; they evolve.  By ‘evolve’ I do not mean ‘get better and better’.  I mean that they are transformed, that each of us that enters into the creation of a specific form, like Haiku or Renga or Cinquain or Sonnet, etc., both inherits the precedents of the past, and contributes our own understanding in the present.  And this combination is handed on as a gift to future practitioners of the form.

If you are inclined to formal syllabic verse my suggestion is to follow Shohaku’s example.  Respect the past because past practitioners have a lot to teach us.  And like Shohaku, be transparent about one’s interactions with the past; this transparency will be invaluable to anyone who follows after you.

References:

The Road to Komatsubara, Steven D. Carter, Harvard University, 1987

Haiku Poetry, Volume Two, James Hackett, Japan Publications, 1968

Writing and Enjoying Haiku: A Hands-on Guide, Jane Reichhold, Kodansha, 2002 (see page 31)

Hokku: Writing Traditional Haiku in English, David Coomler, Octavo Press, 2001 (see page 35)

The Haiku Handbook, William J. Higginson, Kodansha, 1985 (see page 105)

The Other World of Richard Wright, edited by Jianqing Zheng, University of Mississippi Press, 2011 (the Gurga quote comes from page 170)

Seeds from a Birch Tree, Clark Strand, Hyperion, 1997 (see pages 24 and 87)

What We Take For Granted

Water from a tap
A shelter when it's raining
Other people's dreams

Getting Started in Renga: First Steps

Getting Started in Renga: Part 1

Dan, who is a regular here at Shaping Words, asked me how to get started in Renga.  I’ve been thinking about that for a long time and Dan’s question has given me an opportunity to offer a suggestion.

I suggest starting out with the simplest type of Renga; a two-verse sequence sometimes referred to as a ‘tan-renga’.  The tan-renga developed from the tanka form.  Often tanka are written in two parts: the first part is in 5-7-5 and the closing part is 7-7.  In tanka the two parts are written by a single poet.  In tan-renga the two parts are written by two different people.  This composing a 7-7 response to the 5-7-5 part is sometimes referred to as ‘capping’ the opening verse.

So here is my suggestion: use some of your favorite haiku and then compose a closing part.  I recommend using a haiku poet who composes in 5-7-5, such as Richard Wright or Susan August or James Hackett.  When you find a haiku that attracts you, add a 7-7 closing verse.

The purpose of this approach is to give you practice in linking.  At the beginning don’t worry too much about renga categories or esthetics, just respond to the haiku with a two-line, 7-7, verse.

I have often engaged in this exercise.  I find it fruitful which is why I still engage in it now and then.  Here is an example where I used haiku #145 by Richard Wright:

A bright glowing moon

Pouring out its radiance

Upon tall tombstones

Five petals slowly falling

From the blooming cherry tree

My response turns the image into a Spring, seasonal, poem.  Here is the response I wrote to #202:

A cock’s shrill crow

Is driving the spring dawn stars

From out of the sky

The stuff that dreams are made of

And the songs of hope and love

In my response I introduce the theme of love.

It is possible to have more than one response to a haiku and if you find several different responses emerging, I recommend jotting both, or all, of them down.

This kind of practice in responding to a haiku will develop one’s talents in linking.  The idea is to create a unified image.  There are various ways of doing this: you can add a detail, you can shift focus by placing the haiku into a larger context, you can respond to the emotional tone of the haiku, you can place the image in a seasonal or temporal context, you can also link through word-play such as puns or homonyms, etc.  I would recommend avoiding strongly disjunctive images; that is to say sharp contrasts.  The reason is this: in renga each pair of verses, any two consecutive verses, should form a unity; that is to say that the reader should be able to grasp them as a complete image in themselves.  That is what we are striving for in linking. 

After doing this for a while the next step is to cap a haiku with a verse that deliberately includes one of the seven required topics of renga.  The seven required topics are the four seasons (spring, summer, fall, winter), the moon, love, and the ‘blossom’ verse.  The blossom verse is almost always a spring verse, so it is seasonal as well; but it has its own special status in the renga form.  ‘Blossom’ in the context of renga refers to blossoming trees, particularly blossoming fruit trees.  By far the most popular blossom verse is centered on the cherry tree, followed by the plum.  In the west people have also used apple and other fruit trees for this topic.

What I am suggesting is to take a haiku and then deliberately respond to the haiku with a 7-7 verse that is on one of the standard topics.  For example, my response to Wright’s #202 introduced the theme of love, and would be considered a love verse.  My response to #105 was a spring verse.

Doing this you will develop the facility to write a verse on a standard renga topic when that kind of verse is called for in a renga form.  Renga forms have required topics at set places in their schemes; so in order to compose renga you need to develop the ability to compose on those themes when the need arises.

This kind of exercise is a lot of fun.  I have found that capping a haiku with my own 7-7 response is a fruitful way of engaging with a haiku poet.  One of the benefits of such practice is that you develop a deep feeling for the poet you are responding to; you become more intimately acquainted with how they write and communicate. 

Another benefit from this kind of practice is that it carries you through dry periods.  Most poets have periods when the creative impulses seem to dry up.  Nothing appears and the mind just seems unable to engage with the poetic craft.  When I have fallen into that kind of dryness, I will engage with a haiku poet in this manner of capping.  I sometimes refer to them as ‘haiku dialogs’.  Because I do not have to rely on my own inspiration to start the process, because I can lean on someone else’s poetry, it allows me to continue poetic composition even though original work might not be emerging. The result of this approach is that soon enough I slip out of the dry spell and back into a more consistent engagement with my own muse.

But back to renga: I think this is the simplest way to begin learning about renga.  It will give you a feel for the flow between two verses.  It also has the advantage of including another person, the haiku poet, in your creative process.  Although I compose solo renga, solo renga are unusual.  Most renga is written by a group of poets.  Responding to another poet’s haiku is the first step in placing your renga verses into a communal context and this will make it easier for you to join other renga poets when the time comes.

Open Door

Sunday is restful
Among the new leaves birds are
Greeting the sunrise

There's not a cloud in the sky,
But a gentle, steady wind

As the snowflakes fall
The mailman drops some letters
While crossing the street

The cell phone's incessant ring
Interrupts concentration

"Let's do lunch today,"
She say to a new client,
"That new restaurant?"

The magnolia blossoms,
Luxurious and long days

He checks his email --
Why isn't there a response?
Why is she silent?

She likes him, she really does;
But she needs some time alone

Hiking in the woods
On a two-week vacation
The first in five years

 Night is quickly gathering
The shadows into darkness

There's no moon tonight
Only the string of street lights
When leaves start to fall

He slowly opens the door,
An abandoned cat walks in

A Contemplation

Ashes
Mountain ranges
Lightning strikes the forest
I've heard that ev'rything changes
Novas

On Not Knowing

Once I believed in reincarnation.
I still think it's a possibility,
But in spite of my endless devotions
I have to admit, it's a mystery
As to what happens when we pass away.
I don't know what will happen tomorrow,
Or what is in store for later today,
And the next hour may be filled with sorrow
Or perhaps filled with laughter, who can say?
I don't know what my nightly dreams will bring
Or if a friend will call from far away
Or what melody my neighbor on her walk will sing . . .

So why should I know what will happen when I die
If an unexpected wind can catch me by surprise?

Anterooms by Richard Wilbur -- A Review

Anterooms by Richard Wilbur – A Review

It’s Richard Wilbur’s birthday today; born March 1, 1921.  He’s in his 90’s and still writing poetry. 

Wilbur’s latest book is “Anterooms”, published in 2010.  I have commented on Richard Wilbur’s poetry before.  I am particularly intrigued by Wilbur’s development of what I call the “haiku stanza poem”.  In my previous post on Wilbur I spoke of such poems as ‘Thyme Flowering Among Boulders’.  It was, therefore, a great pleasure for me that when I recently got around to reading “Anterooms”, to discover that there are six haiku stanza poems in the collection.  That’s more haiku stanza poems than in his “Collected Poems: 1943 – 2004”.  For haiku poets, and syllabic poets in general, this is a wonderful gift. 

Three of the six haiku stanza poems continue the nature-centered focus of Wilbur’s previous haiku stanzas: “A Measuring Worm”, “Pasture Poem”, and “Young Orchard”.  “Measuring Worm” is about a caterpillar climbing up a window screen.  Wilbur extracts from this observation a truth about the human condition:

Although he doesn’t know it,

He will soon have wings,

And I too don’t know

Toward what undreamt condition

Inch by inch I go.

In “Young Orchard” Wilbur writes of orchard trees in the wind:

Nodding one and all

To one another, as they

Rise again and fall,

Swept by fluttering

So that they appear a great

Consort of sweet strings.

And “A Pasture Poem” is about the humble thistle:

This upstart thistle

Is young and touchy; it is

All barb and bristle

These three haiku stanza poems continue with the traditional nature-centered and seasonal focus of Wilbur’s previous haiku stanzas.

In the other three stanza poems, Wilbur brings the haiku stanza form to other topics.  There is a meditation on Ecclesiastes 11.1, “Cast thy bread upon the waters”, and a beautiful “Psalm”.  The “Psalm” opens with a celebratory feeling:

Give thanks for all things

On the plucked lute, and likewise

The harp of ten strings

And then at the conclusion there is a turn:

Then, in grave relief,

Praise too our sorrows on the

Cello of shared grief.

My favorite is ‘Anterooms’, the title poem for the collection.  It is a contemplation on time:

Out of the snowdrift

Which covered it, this pillared

Sundial starts to lift,

Able now at last

To let its frozen hours

Melt into the past

The middle verses talk about the strange way that time can ‘dilate’; how instants can seem to take a long time while entire years feel like a moment.  Then Wilbur concludes with a shift to dream time:

Dreams, which interweave

All our times and tenses, are

What we can believe:

Dark they are, yet plain,

Coming to us now as if

Through a cobwebbed pane

Where, before our eyes,

All the living and the dead

Meet without surprise.

These are beautifully crafted poems.  Wilbur continues with his expert use of rhyme and the careful balance of rhyme defined run-on lines with lines where the rhyme and the grammar come together to produce a strong sense of cadence and closure.

In searching online, I came across an interview with Wilbur where he discusses how he came to compose in haiku stanzas:

Interviewer:  Regarding your later poems, the ones that have been appearing recently in The New Yorker, I would think a lot of people would say this poetry ranks with the very best of your work, because it is distilled, almost haiku-like.  I don’t know if that’s the right term, but there’s a brevity; it is more spare and yet it’s evocative.

Wilbur:  It is sparer than my poetry used to be, and I think part of it is that though I can’t explain why, I’ve taken to using the haiku as a paragraph or a stanza in poetry.  Well – I do know how it happened.  A number of years ago I wanted to write a poem about my herb garden and the behavior of thyme and rocks in it, and I started out the poem by saying, “This, if Japanese, would . . .”, and I had a couple of lines talking about how Japanese gardens often represent mountain ranges and natural phenomena in miniature, and I found myself writing this about Japanese gardens in an adaptation of haiku poem rhyming the first and third lines. [The poem is “Thyme Flowering Among Rocks,” from the 1969 collection, Walking to Sleep: New Poems and Translation.]  And I rather liked the enforced sparseness of that.

[The full interview can be found at www.cprw.com/Iyengar/wilbur.htm]

It is intriguing to me how Wilbur’s adaptation of syllabic haiku led to a more focused, more spare, presentation.  The results are immensely attractive.  It is my feeling that Wilbur’s haiku stanzas have made a significant contribution to English Language Haiku.  Wilbur has shown how the Haiku form and esthetic can be expanded into a longer presentation.  Wilbur’s haiku stanzas differ from haiku sequences in that the stanzas constitute a single poem.  A haiku sequence is an arrangement of individual haiku each of which can be read on its own.  But because Wilbur uses run-on lines, and because there is a thematic unity, and because there is an arc to the poem from the opening stanza to its conclusion, the individual stanzas do not stand on their own; rather each stanza is a part of the whole.  I believe that this has great potential for English Language Haiku.

“Anterooms” also contains beautiful lyrics and a number of translations from the French, Latin, and Russian.  Wilbur is well-known for his superb translations.  This is a beautiful volume of poetry from a mature poet whose mastery of poetic craft is simply unsurpassed.  For haiku poets, “Anterooms” offers new vistas of possibilities for their craft.

Anterooms

Richard Wilbur

ISBN: 9780547358116

$20.00