T is for Tanka

Now, we’re talking! If you don’t know already, I love surfing the Hallyu wave. But that'd never happened if I hadn’t been indoctrinated to the Asian culture and media as a young child.

I was first bit by the bug when I watched my first anime one Saturday afternoon. To those who don’t know, anime is a shortened term for Japanese animation.

So can you imagine my excitement that I got the letter “T”!? Well, you’re about to find out why.

Because...

Tanka is a Japanese poetic form. It originated in the 7th century thus making it one of the oldest Japanese forms. The tanka is 31 syllables long, consists of five lines and doesn’t rhyme. And unlike the haiku, it is the more expressive of the two with its use of metaphors and personification. For this reason the tanka resembles a sonnet, a love poem.  Also, the tanka were often written by lovers to give their thanks for a memorable night. ;-D

The beginning three lines, upper lines, of the tanka starts off like a haiku. An image and or setting  is introduced. And immediately followed by a shift or expansion of the subject in the last two, lower lines.

The tanka, like the limerick, has a syllable count for each line: 5/7/5/7/7. Meaning that lines one and three are five syllables long. While lines two, four and five are seven syllables long.

Here’s an example of a tanka poem by poet Tada Chimako:

Person of the Playful Star: Tanka [I listen to songs]

I listen to songs
of someone handsome
at the apex of night
the Milky Way overflows
the stars boil over and fall

© 2010

I’m more into writing the senryu, another Japanese poetic form. I even pair them up with images and post them to Instagram and Twitter but here’s my attempt at a tanka poem:

April 21

Their petals fell

like tears for a fallen icon

before vanishing.

Another star lost its light

to shine in the skies above.

© Lidy Wilks, April 22, 2016

Want to attempt your own tanka poem and share it in the comments? Have a favorite tanka poem you'd like to share? Are you familiar with the haiku and other Japanese poetic forms like the senryu or waka?

L is for Limerick

Today's A to Z letter is the letter "L." And you can't believe how happy I was to get the twelfth letter in the alphabet. Because L is for limerick, fun and easy poetic form, to read and write. Sure to put an OMG look on your face and or make you bust a gut. There are a few limericks I couldn't use as examples for their vulgarity. But if you want to read them, here's how to find it on Google. Type "nantucket," "limerick," "immortalia" and hit enter.

Now without further ado...

Limericks are a rather fun and raunchy poetic form. It appeared in early 18th century England. And became popularized by Edward Lear in the 19th century. Even William Shakespeare wrote limericks. They were also known as low or nonsense poems.

A limerick is five lines long and has a rhyme scheme of AABBA. What does that mean? Basically, lines 1-2 and 5 rhyme with each other. And lines 3-4 only rhyme with each other as well. So if the last word on the first line is ‘eight,’ then the last words on line two and five will rhyme with eight. For example, you would use words like ate, great, bait, late or even a name, Nate. Same thing applies to lines three and four. If the last word on line three is ‘like’ the ending rhyme word for the fourth line will be bike, hike, pike, etc.

Limericks also have a rhythm pattern, the heartbeat of a poem. And it goes da DUM da da DUM da da DUM, giving it a musical feel. Making lines 1-2 and 5 eight beats long, while lines 3-4 are six (sometimes five) syllables long (da da DUM da da DUM).

Most importantly, the first line of a limerick introduces the characters. And the setting of the poem.

Are you ready to try a limerick? Don’t be afraid, it’s really quite easy. Here are two examples and one I did myself back in college.:

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, “It is just as I feared!--
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!”

-Edward Lear, Book of Nonsense 1, 1845

“There once was a man from Nantucket

Who kept all his cash in a bucket.

But his daughter, named Nan,

Ran away with a man,

And as for the bucket, Nantucket.”

-Anonymous, printed in the “Princeton Tiger” in  1902

Here’s mine from college. Although I didn’t follow the poetic format, I did capture the tone and setting of the limerick. Plus it was a real hoot in class.:

There once was a nun named Hailey.

Who got tired of praying daily.

In a dress so tight,

She snuck out one night.

And came back married to man named Bailey.

-Lidy Wilks, 2002-2003 (c)

Inspired to write a limerick yet? Did you know that you can write your own "Nantucket" limerick? Your first line is "There once was a man from Nantucket." Ready to share it in the comments? And remember, although limericks are also known for being X-rated, please keep it clean.

D is for Dramatic Monologue

Hi! This is my first post as the newest addition to Unicorn Bell. Thanks again to Chrys for recommending me. And the warm welcomes from CD Coffelt, Marcy, Kristin, Elizabeth, Charity and Angela!

This is also my first time in taking part in the A to Z challenge. And as April is National Poetry Month, you know what my theme is going to be, right?

So without further ado, “D is for Dramatic Monologue.”

Without knowing it, you already know what a dramatic monologue is. Everyone had to at least read a William Shakespeare play or two during middle and high school. Hamlet’s “To be or not to be, that is the question.” speech is one example. Then there’s Lady Macbeth’s ‘unsex me’ speech. And Mercutio’s ‘Queen Mab’ speech in Romeo and Juliet.

A dramatic monologue are like the soliloquies Shakespeare often used in his plays. The speaker in a dramatic monologue is a persona other than the poet. The speaker can be a person, a place or a thing which is why dramatic monologues are also known as persona poems.

In a dramatic monologue, the speaker voices their thoughts and feelings. And does so unaware of a listening audience, you the reader. The poem itself is not even targeted to a specific reader. Oftentimes, it is the reader who might be more informed of things unknown to the speaker.

Sylvia Plath has written a dramatic monologue you might know well. It deals with the theme of mental illness and suicide. Here is one of my favorite lines from Plath’s Lady Lazarus. And here’s where you can read the poem in its entirety.:

Lady Lazarus

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

-Sylvia Plath, 23-29 October 1962 ©

I wrote a variation of a dramatic monologue in poetry workshop during college. It is an attempt of the persona poem from the point of view of a painting. Can you spot why it’s different?:

Tempera on Cardboard

Father, do you know what you’ve done?

I, your firstborn and

most famous child of us four, Skrik

am now within the vile company

of two black men.

Do you know what has happened to me

and most unfortunately, my dear sister Madonna too?

Two dark men has desecrated your home, our home

on the Holy Sabbath day,

breaking the eighth commandment.

We’re coveted, kidnapped, what more can I say?

I saw my life through gunpoint and

guttural shouts and threats.

Now August 22, 2004

is a day I curse my birth on

that pier in Asgardstrand

underneath a magma-red Oslofjord sky.

We were left with no real protection.

So now I cry, scream and shriek

at my fate with mute lips

and silently wish that you

Edvard Munch were never born.

-Lidy Wilks, 2002-2003 ©

Poetry Submission #2

Well Done on the first submission! YAY! And now we have a second submission! Even better. 

So again. I'll be doing my impressions. And we can go from there. 

  

There’s an angle, twisted sideways, crawling slowly up the rill.
And a softish spot of anger dying up there on the hill.
I can see the twisted corners of an odd, un-useful place,
or the gracious whim of someone who created this whole place.

This first stanza I had a hard time with only because I kept flipping back and forth between almost getting what you were saying and then thinking I was missing it entirely. And I think what my problem is is the quick shift between describing physical things using emotional verbs. (ex...the second line) I do like the cadence. I'm just not sure yet what it's about...

It’s odd to look at something that really doesn’t care,
or climb the angled mountain without the will to dare.
I can look up at the billows of the water down below,
and cry into the mirror at someone I don’t know.

Still not sure what, or who, is climbing  the mountain? I can feel the frustration of the speaker though. And for some reason I'm feeling a very remote lonely vibe. Kinda like Mt. Olympus. The Gods look down and are lonely in there all knowing-ness...

The place I see around me is a glorious tangled dream,
and I wander as I wonder along the color stream.
It’s odd to think of nothing, and to wonder ever where
the dream will turn a corner and the dreamer cease to care. 

Now I'm questioning if the speaker is even awake? I like the image of the last line though. Very well put.

But the dreamer is the angle, and the colors, and the dream,
and the edges of reality are hardly ever seen.
I climb along the angles, and the twisted, glorious lines,
the colors tucked inside the cracks and wrapped around the vines,

and I wonder if there’s someone in that odd familiar space,
around a corner, seeing me, but not my real face.

Hmmm. Was it all a dream? Were we supposed to know? I like the cadence. Until that last line. It needs another half beat. There's some good imagery in this. But it left me with an overall feeling of...Huh? Um? Bit confused about what it was about? 

And again. I'm not a poetry expert...

How about our readers! Thoughts? Impressions? Comments? Feel free to join in! And go back to the first one and share your thoughts on that one as well!

PS...I'm not sure why the typeface it coming out all wanky...I can't seem to fix it no matter what I do.  *&%@( blogger... BAH!

  

Poetry Submission #1

You have all been spared the scaryness of reading any of my desperate attempts at squishing words together to form this poetry stuff! We have a submission! Whee!  Ok...so...now what?

I'm leaving the main "Critique" up to our readers. But I'm going to post my "Impressions". Mainly because this is how I read poetry. This is why I enjoy it. How it leaves me. The lines that stay..."Two Roads diverged in a wood and I -- I took the one less traveled by." (Robert Frost) Has always struck me as very mournful. Lonely. Emily Dickinson is one of my absolute favorite. She has such a way with a turn of phrase. "Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me." Hysterical!

Anyway. This is how I read poetry.  


black as hell

my lover's eyes are black;
black as night
black as crow
black as ice
black as sin
black as patent leather
glistening under the pale moonlight
I like how you're showing us the way life looks back and white sometimes, in moonlight. All color gone. And the different levels of black.

my lover's hair is black;
black as coal
black as jet
black as cat
black as pitch
black as the cold depths
of the deep, dark sea
Again. Beautiful comparisons. But for some reason my mind automatically read that last line as "Dangerous sea"

my lover's skin is black;
black as ink
black as space
black as tar
black as onyx
black as a beetle's carapace
shimmering under a red, hot sun
These comparisons make him seem more dangerous somehow. There seems to be an underlying hum of "something is going to go very very wrong here"


I think he knows
When he touches me
What I've done
To hold him,
Keep him,
Tie him to me
And there it is...Good twist! YOU'VE done something wrong. 

but his soul is as black as mine
he does not care
to mention the fact
he does not dare
to break the spell
that binds us both
and keeps us
prisoned
in this
unholy
alliance
Very satisfying ending. I like that evil is satisfied with evil. And to maintain their desire they know it needs to be. The end justifying the means. An age old question.

Now it's Your Turn! Do we have any Pro Poets out there? Anybody that wants to join in feel free to do so!

Poetry

...It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
On this platform of peace, we can create a language
to translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ

Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices to celebrate the promise of
Peace...

~ Maya Angelou

Poetry. Gah. For years I didn't understand the draw. And to be honest. It's still not my favorite means of communication. But there are some Poets that can definitely get their point across without making me want to dig my eyes out with a spoon. 

Maya Angelou is one of them. I wasn't really on board with her work, I will admit, until I had the great good fortune to hear her READ it aloud. It was like a light went on. Ohhhhhhh! Duh! Now, admittedly, Ms. Angelou has one of the most lyrically soothing voices in recent history. But still. I don't think that's why I suddenly understood what I was missing about reading poetry. She gave it rhythm. She gave the words feeling. She enunciated the lines as though she was reading a passage of prose. It didn't feel like poetry. 

 Which was what I was doing wrong. I was saying to myself. "AH! This is poetry! Must be sing-song. And rhyme-y. And MEANINGFUL!" Sometimes a daisy is JUST a flower. Not a signifier of a *ahem* women's left elbow. If you get my meaning...

 I know that yes. There is poetry out there like that. Where every other word is couched in deep hidden meaning and you have to slog through it to get at what the author was trying to tell you. But really. Why? I could never understand why poets have to be so...vague. But that is for another rant!

For now. Lets concentrate on our own poetry! What types do you write? I am by no means an expert. But I'm sure that amongst our followers there will be those that can help! If you would like...send your poetry to our submission e-mail. unicornbellsubmissions@gmail.com. We'll just have some fun commenting and talking about poetry for the next few days. 

If I don't get any submissions I Promise to post some of my college work. Now. Do we really want that? 

No.

No we don't.

 

And To You!

Wow....HA! 

That title came off a bit more rude then I meant it to be!

What I MEANT was 'Tis the Season...and am totally not going to have a whole lot of time to Post anything of worth here even though it is my week.

However!

I Am interested in knowing what people do for their Holiday Traditions.

Just go ahead and post in the comment section.

What do you look forward to the Absolute MOST in this time of year? The food? The Music? The Family? The Chaos? The Crappy Movies on TV? For it all to end and normalcy to return? *I hear ya!*

Tell me!

When I was going to culinary school and it wasn't feasible to get home for the 3 days they gave us off for Christmas Break...we had an Orphans Christmas. And honestly...it was one of the best I can remember! We simply hung out. Watched movies. Drank (crappy) wine. Made amazing food. (It was culinary school after all!) And generally de-stressed.

Now...the traditions seem to be a lot of running about. Time schedules. Parties that we must attend. Not a whole lot of chillaxen. Oh the pitfalls of being an adult.

So tell us all at UB what's going on with you and yours these next couple of days!

And I hope that you and your family have a very safe and joyful holiday season.

(I will be posting Wednesday, for sure. I'm thinking the subject might be poetry. Not sure yet! ...so check back then!!)

Cadence

Great prose has cadence, a rhythm. 

These lyrics by Dierks Bentley is an example. Note the two-count beat at the end of each stanza:

“Becky was a beauty from south Alabama

Her daddy had a heart like a nine-pound hammer
Think he even did a little time in the slammer
What was I thinkin'?

She snuck out one night and met me by the front gate
Her daddy came out wavin' that twelve gauge
We tore out the drive he peppered my tailgate
What was I thinkin'?” - What Was I Thinkin, Dierks Bentley,

Of course, poetry is the shining example of tempo, of words arranged to a beat.

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.” – The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

But novels, especially narrative, can benefit from using this technique.

“The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.” – The Fellowship of the Ring, JRR Tolkien

“I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.” – The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss

And what about the Limerick?

“There once was a man of noblesse

Who said spices weren’t too excess.

But the sauce was quite hot

And caused him to snot

Which ruined his chance to impress.” -- Off the Cuff, CD Coffelt

Read poetry and get a feel for the beat. Use this in your writing.