Showing posts with label 100 Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 100 Friends. Show all posts

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Book Launch: Even in Winter

Book Launch: Even in Winter

I have just published my latest collection of poems.  It is called Even in Winter.  In this collection I take a new turn in how I have put the poems together.  Previous collections have been form specific: either the entire book was dedicated to a single form (such as Microcosmos which is dedicated to renga, or White Roses dedicated to haiku), or each section of the book is form specific.  An example is Lanterne Light which contains three collections of poems and all three collections are form specific; the lanterne, the tetractys, and the cinquain.

In Even in Winter I have mixed the forms, so the collection is not form specific.  All the poems are formal, but the forms are interspersed and not grouped into form specific collections.

Five forms are used: Etheree, Fibonacci, Lucas, the Even Sequence, and 100 Friends.  These forms are explained as part of the back matter in a section called ‘Afterthoughts’.  I felt that the different forms worked well with each other because all five of the forms share a similar overall shape.  All of the forms start with very short lines and then expand into longer lines.  What differs among the forms is the pace of the expansion.  Here is a quick look at the syllable counts for the five forms used in the collection:

Etheree:               1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10
Fibonacci:            1-1-2-3-5-8-13-21, etc.
Lucas:                  2-1-3-4-7-11-18-29, etc.
Even Sequence:   2-2-4-6-10-16, etc.
100 Friends:        2-4-2-4-6-4-6-8-6-8-10-8-10-12-10

I think of this collection as a kind of bouquet of forms.  Hopefully they are attractively arranged.  The collection covers a number of themes; nature and seasonality are central.  Spirituality and my commitments as a Quaker are woven into the collection, hopefully in a not too obtrusive way.  I think I would say that the overriding theme is the human relationship to eternity in an ephemeral world.

Even in Winter
ISBN: 9781514224649
118 pages
$12.00


Sunday, August 26, 2012

Pond

Breakfast
In the morning
Sunlight
Through the windows
The sound of the roses
Delays my plans
I stretch my arms and yawn
I decide to take a day off
They don't need me at work
I absent myself from the web
(I fondly recall some friends who are dead)
And listen to the wind instead
While I fold my clean clothes and make my bed
On the branch of the oak a sparrow has landed
We speak to each other before he goes

Friday, August 24, 2012

Daymare

Summer
In the garden
Roses
Recollections
Meander like a stream
Through a landscape
Of scenes from the future
Unlikely possibilities
That still seem attractive
Dissolved by the acid of now --

They are like corpses on a battlefield
In the heat of a cloudless sky
Upon which numberless scavengers feed,
Messengers from the demon of the wheel of time --

White petals sway under the crows black wings


Friday, May 11, 2012

Shaping Forms


Shaping Forms

A feature of modern syllabic poetry in the English speaking world is the unfolding of new syllabic forms.  I enjoy hearing about these new forms and watching how they spread.  In the past, in that ancient time before the internet, new forms would be offered by a poet, shared with some friends, published in some small journals, and the spread would be rather slow and tentative.  A good example of this is the Crapsey Cinquain, which is also the first syllabic form offered for English language poetry.  Interestingly, Crapsey never seems to have written a prosodic presentation of her new form.  Rather, she wrote effectively in this form and others simply picked it up.  This is also true of the Etheree which was created by Etheree Armstrong Taylor; but I have not run across any essay that one could call a presentation of Etheree prosody.  This absence of a formal prosodic presentation in some cases of new syllabic forms would seem to indicate that there is at the beginning still a kind of informal sharing and verbal exchange among friends.  In such a context a formal presentation isn’t really necessary.  Only when it goes beyond such a small circle does such a need arise.

On the other hand, Ray Stebbing presented his Tetractys form to the world and had a very well written essay on its prosody right from the beginning.  I don’t know very much about Stebbing or the poetic culture he moved in, but from the essay he wrote it strikes me that he was speaking to people fairly knowledgeable about prosody, people who would likely want something specific.  Hence, the essay as an introduction to the form.

The offering of new syllabic forms comes at a time when a syllabic approach to English language poetry is starting to make headway.  I think of it as a sign of the potential for syllabic verse in English.  Here I’d like to present three new forms as examples of this trend.  I could have chosen from a wide range of possibilities.  But I have settled on the Rictameter, the  Monchielle, and a form called 100 Friends.

The Rictameter

The Rictameter is a very recent form.  It is a nine-line form with the syllables distributed as follows: 2 -4 -6-8-10-8-6-4-2.  One more thing; the first and last lines are the same.

Fortunately, its creators have posted online the story of its beginning.  The Rictameter was created by Jason Wilkins and his cousin Richard Lunsford who had formed a ‘secret poetry society’ called The Brotherhood of the Amarantos Mistery; a kind of humorous takeoff on the ‘Dead Poets Society’.  According to Wilkins it was Lunsford who came up with the syllable structure and it was Wilkins who suggested that the first and last lines be the same.  

The first published Rictameter appeared in 2000 online at shadowpoetry.com; at that time a relatively unknown site.  This is a good example of how a new poetry form can spread beyond the initial creator’s, or in this case creators’, circle via the internet.  This is 2012 so the form is only twelve years old.  Already there have appeared several small books of poetry in the Rictameter form.  One is ‘Elder Expectations: My Life in Rictameters’ by Marlys Styne.  Another is ‘Rictameter Ramblings’ by Lawrence Seeger.  Both Styne and Seeger have no formal background in poetry, but somehow heard about the form and found it attractive and congenial to what they wanted to express.

One of the things that interests me about this story is how the emergence of the Rictameter completely bypasses institutions and settings where one would think of looking for creative poetic investigations.  Wilkins is a fireman.  Lawrence Seeger, author of ‘Ractameter Ramblings’ is a retired policeman.  Marlys Styne was an English Professor for many years but only encountered the Rictameter after retiring.  In other words, this is very much a ‘from the ground up’ story.  None of this was done via a university or through some kind of official poetry publication. 

This reminds me of the origins of some of our more celebrated poetic forms.  The sonnet’s origin was a popular song form from Italy called the ‘sonetto’, which means ‘little song’.  The Villanelle has similar origins in popular song.  Both of them are earlier examples of ‘from the ground up’.

Here’s an example of a Rictameter from ‘Elder Expectations’:

The Joys of Walking

Walking:
Challenge now, with
Creaky knees, stiff movement,
Yet on good days what a joy to
Move, explore, observe the city, see life!
Memories all around me as
I amble on, ponder
All I see while
Walking.

I find the effect of having the first and last lines the same notable.  There is a strong sense of cadence and closure.  Wilkins wrote that the Rictameter has a seasonal, cyclical feel to it.  And I have noticed that some who compose Rictameter pick up on that cyclical feel by composing double, or triple or more, Rictameter.  In this extrapolation of the form the last line of the opening Rictameter becomes the first line of the second Rictameter; and this can be continued indefinitely. 

The even-numbered syllable counts for the lines give the Rictameter a sense of easy flow.  In addition, if one is interested in traditional metrical poetry, I think one could fairly easily map traditional metrics onto the Rictameter.  There is a sense of gracefulness to the form and I can see why it has caught on with a number of people.

The Rictameter is open as to subject matter and I have read Rictameter on love, the seasons, ordinary life, as well as introspective Rictameter.  There is no requirement to rhyme, though rhyme is not forbidden.  For such a brief history the response to this form is impressive.  I wish the form well and want to thank Jason and Richard for so freely sharing it.

The Monchielle

This is a form I only became aware of this year.  I think it is only a few years old.  It is the creation of the Norwegian poet Jim T. Henriksen, but its presence online seems to be mostly in English.  Hendriksen also writes a lot of his poetry in English so he seems to straddle two language communities.  Henriksen writes that one day he wrote a poem called “You know you have found love” which he liked.  Upon rereading it he realized that the poem had a form and that the form itself was attractive.  Henriksen named the form ‘Monchielle’ with the Monchi for his ex-wife, and the ‘elle’ part because he saw similarities between his form and the Kyrielle; they both use rhyme and repetition.  The prosody of the form is as follows:

1.         It consists of four stanzas.
2.         Each stanza consists of five lines.
3.         Each line consists of six syllables.
4.         The first line repeats in each stanza.
5.         Lines three and five rhyme.

Henriksen cleverly put the rules into his form:

"To Write A Monchielle"
Copyright: November 7th, 2005
By Jim T. Henriksen
To write a Monchielle
you start each verse alike,
third line and fifth must rhyme.
Line two and four is free
for messages sublime.

To write a Monchielle
you must abide by rules
to be the perfect bard.
Each line six syllables,
it is not very hard.

To write a Monchielle
four stanzas you must write
to get your message through.
I know it may be tough,
but something you must do.

To write a Monchielle
is fun and challenging,
it spreads like raging fire.
Although it is my style,
use it as you desire.

Henriksen wrote this in 2005, so I suspect that the Monchielle is a little younger than the Rictameter.  Although it is difficult to keep up with all the new syllabic forms being offered, this is the first form I’ve run into that has a rhyme requirement.  As readers of this blog know, I’m a huge fan of rhyme and have wondered if and when someone would offer a syllabic form with rhyme requirements.  Now I have the answer in the Monchielle.

As with most new forms, people quickly develop variations on the form.  An interesting variation on the Monchielle is the Monchielle Quintain.  The Monchielle Quintain consists of only a single verse of the standard Monchielle.  In other words it is a five-line poem, six syllables per line, with lines 3 and 5 rhyming.  For an example of the Monchielle Quintain see the blog kirigirisu.blogspot.com and look for the April 12 post.

This form has been picked up by a lot of people.  I haven’t, as yet, run into a book specifically devoted to the Monchielle; but it wouldn’t surprise me to see one in the near future.

The Monchielle strikes me as particularly song-like.  In some ways it reminds me of the Chinese Quatrain forms where all the lines have the same syllable count.  When a form has lines that have all the same count the effect is one of steady pacing and a musical meter naturally suggests itself. 

The 100 Friends Form

The last form I’ll deal with is called ‘100 Friends’; it was created by yours truly.  It is a fifteen line form with the syllable count as follows: 2-4-2-4-6-4-6-8-6-8-10-8-10-12-10, for a total syllable count of 100.  Hence the name ‘100 Friends’.  I created this two or three years ago.  I remember wanting a longer syllabic form than what I had been writing, such as the Crapsey Cinquain, the syllabic Tanka or Haiku, or the Tetractys.  I love those forms, but sometimes I wanted more time to develop a theme. 

I also wanted the form to have the wave-like effect of the Tanka, which is a feature of syllabic Tanka I find very attractive.  The 5-7-5-7-7, especially when extended in Renga, has a rocking effect and rhythm that is part of its beauty.  I was sitting in a coffee house thinking about these things again (I’d been mulling them over for weeks) and the pattern came to me.  I didn’t realize until after writing it down that it consisted of 100 syllables; but that nice round number somehow felt auspicious to me. 

There are no additional requirements for the 100 Friends form.  Rhyme may or may not be used.  The poem may titled or untitled. 

100 Friends is only about three years old and I have not made efforts to publicize it on online sites.  I am not aware of anyone else using this form, so perhaps it is simply an individual expression; that is to say an expression of my own poetic sensibilities.  It isn’t an easy form to internalize; but once I start writing in the form it becomes comfortable.  In terms of complexity I think 100 Friends is less complex than the sonnet, but more complex than the Tetractys or Rictameter. 

Here is a recent example of this form:

In the Distance

Sunshine
Warm afternoons
No clouds
A gentle breeze
Spring is almost over
The fresh green leaves
Like the sound of wind chimes
Like incense wafting from somewhere
Like a cloud of starlings
Turning and dancing in the air
Like pebbles observed in a stream of light
And the peace of mind we all seek,
A mind without fear, a mind without fright –

I catch a brief glimpse of a far off mountain peak
As I walk the banks of a dried-up creek

**

These are just three examples of new syllabic forms of poetry.  One thing that all three of these forms have in common is that even syllable count of the lines.  This isn’t new; the Crapsey Cinquain also uses even count lines as follows: 2-4-6-8-2.  This differs from East Asian forms where odd-numbered lines seem to be favored.  Perhaps this is a reflection of a differences in the languages, though I’m only guessing here.

My sense is that all these new forms that are being offered is a kind of tilling of the field of English syllabic poetry, followed by the planting of seeds.  In this case the seeds are the various forms; under the right conditions they will grow.  Syllabic poetry in English is so new that all we can see in its garden right now are fresh sprouts, full of potential.  It will be rewarding to watch and see which forms flourish in the future.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Hidden Heart

Unknown
Mysterious
Hidden
A shadowland
Darkness within darkness

A red rose blooms
The air after rainfall
Cinnamon on the morning toast
This quilt wrapped around me
Memories of departed friends
Clouds moving between the autumn branches
A meditation bell is struck

A passerby assisting a stranger
Ignoring any thoughts of imminent danger
This is the heart at the void of the world

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Kindness

Briefly
We walk this earth.
We have
But a short time.
We resemble grasses;
Green in the spring,
Brown in the summer heat,
Withering in the winter wind.
Those who understand this
Put aside their useless quarrels.
The cosmos is unfathomably vast.
The human mind is very small.
An act of kindness is never wasted;
It is the gateway to the deathless and unborn,
It is the exultation of the heart.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Where We Always Dwell

Silence
Is my scripture
Silence
Is the secret
Before there were scriptures
There was silence
Before the beginning
There is the ocean of silence
Before the creation
There is the silent mystery
Constant, always existing, never far
Found in the light and in the dark
Without beginning and witout an end
Found deep within the hidden chambers of the heart
Silence is the presence of constant grace

Friday, March 12, 2010

Traces and Memories

Friday
As the sun sets
I think
About the week
That will come to a close
In a few days
Another week will start
But where are all of my old friends
The ones I remember
(Though sometimes I forget their names)
They appear to me in my memory
A touch that dispels loneliness --
Perhaps I will see them again, who knows?
Where do the shadows go after the sun has set?
Plum trees blossoming in the winter snow.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Peaceful Passing

Blossoms
Of the plum tree
Thick snow
On the branches
A few wisps of steam rise
As a warm wind
The first of the season
Carries the sound of ice cracking
Through her still closed window
The light of the first quarter moon
And the glow of the angel beside her
Lights a path in the land of dreams
A land where time ebbs and flows like the tides
Where all those she had loved wait patiently for her
As her last few breaths quietly subside

Monday, January 4, 2010

Threads

This road
Through the village
Connects
With other roads
With other villages
With other towns
Trucks and cars and busses
Constantly moving back and forth
Spring, summer, fall, winter
Around and around and around
A moment of silence followed by sound
Coming, going, ebbing, flowing
Mountain ranges replaced by the ocean
Uncountable stars in celestial motion
Drift past my window on a moonless night

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Safe Harbor

Night falls
On the harbor
Night falls
Quick in winter
Saturn slowly descends
Into the fog
Hovering at the edge
Where the ocean and the sky blend
A stone stairway ascends
Stepping past the sun and the moon
Planets and galaxies dwindle and fade
Scattered petals from wind-blown blooms
All that's constructed and all that is made
Disappears in the depths of a hidden lagoon
There at the harbor of eternity

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Mystical Theology

Silence
And solitude
These two
Nourish my soul
They guide me to new realms
Where self-concern
Falls easily away
And I begin to realize
That existence is vast
That the world is more than human
That the stunning glory of creation
Is beyond my comprehension
Beyond the grasp of my limited mind
Passing through the gate of a luminous darkness
Darkness within darkness within darkness . . .

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Sunrise

I stand
By the ocean
White sand
Almost like dust
In the palm of my hand
And the motion
Of the pulsating wind
Like a remembered melody
Heard many years ago
The words of the lyrics long gone
Only a few fragments now remaining
Along with the mood of the song
Mingling with the laughter of three children
Running directly into the relentless surf
Diving into the sunrise of their lives