The Tanka form. A haiku… but not.
The gin speaks its mind and paints a blurry picture Of my secret world; Where the tonic flows freely and you squeeze all the ripe limes.
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan. All rights reserved.
Author: Tim (Page 5 of 9)
The Kimo is an Israeli version of the Haiku… today it’s what you get. I am tired.
Writing A glass of bourbon on the side table waits while he empties his mind onto the blank white page.
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan. All Rights Reserved
Oh my goodness… when you work through the process of writing a poem based on a form, like the Blitz, which you will see below, the result can be surprising and maybe a little disconcerting. (That was a weird first sentence…)
Again, I don’t want people to start thinking that I am in a bad way. I am writing poems and this one went down a path. I simply followed and let it be what it became. I was going to spend some time editing and working through the rough patches to make it “better”. What is better though? Sometimes I think the initial run, unadulterated, is ok and should stand as it is.
That being said, I also just wanted to get done so I can do some reading. Maybe I’m artsy, or maybe I’m lazy, OR MMAAYYBE I am really excited about the book I am reading. Whatever the case, here’s a poem like object for your consideration.
Peace from care Keep your distance Keep the peace Peace is rare Peace within Within your reach Within certain limits Limits to what can be endured Limits to my patience Patience fails Patience and love Love to walk around Love to get to know you You are my friend You know me so well Well enough to know better Well, at least that’s what I thought Thought about running away Thought about meeting you in the dark Dark is my favorite Dark is my soul Soul sister can I be your mister Soul searching makes me weary Weary and weak Weary of what others say Say what you need to say Say anything Anything you want Anything you need Need to find a new way to live Need to know I’m heard Heard telling stories Heard through all the noise Noise and confusion Noise and calamity Calamity and chaos Calamity and fear Fear of the dark Fear of being alone Alone and in the cold Alone is how we exist Exist and contemplate life Exist and shrink to nothing Nothing of importance Nothing to anyone Anyone who will listen Anyone who will care Care who lives or dies Care for a wretched man Man Dies
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan. All rights reserved.
Ok, so perhaps the title of this post is a little off the hook. It will be ok. I tried writing a nonet. I think you will get the drift as you read it.
Today I was asked if the poems I am writing are “autobiographical” in nature. I would say that, while the poems do indeed come from my experience, they are not necessarily about me personally. I look around for things that interest me and I jot in my little notebooks. This particular poem comes from my own front yard.
Pacific Sunset So the maple tree withers away Its branches curling on themselves New leaves never budding out Moss and lichen growing Returning to dust Weakened by time and weather... Cut down gone.
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan. All rights reserved.
Well, I’m going to admit… I got desperate, late in the day, and went searching for something. I found the Dodoitsu.
From the WikiPedia regarding Dodoitsu – “Often concerning love or work, and usually comical, Dodoitsu poems consist of four lines with the moraic structure 7-7-7-5 and no rhyme for a total of 26 morae, making it one of the longer Japanese forms. The form, tone and structure of Dodoitsu derive from Japanese folk song traditions.” I see nothing about whether they should have titles so they are simply called “Work” and “Love”.
It’s probably up to you, reader, if these are comical. I also wonder if you will consider irony as a form of humor. I chuckled when I wrote them sooo… you can decide for yourself. Here you go:
Work - He’s showing up everyday Playing the game oh so well and making no difference In his happiness. Love - She wonders all too often How she missed the telltale signs That she was falling for him And then she awakes.
Cheers.
©2020, Tim Geoghegan, All rights reserved.
The luck of the Irish often seems to be with me. For that I am grateful. As I was rather more stuck than usual this evening, a fortunate discovery has helped me out. Months ago I was thumbing through a copy of The Shapes of Our Singing by Robin Skelton (which I can’t afford to buy) and came across an entry for the Treochair. This is a Celtic form that incorporates syllabic counts, alliteration and a specific rhyme scheme. It was interesting enough that I made a note in my Field Notes notebook. Tonight, I have again proved it is beneficial to keep a notebook.
I went back to my jottings in the notebook and found a topic I could manage to work into a Treochair. I present it to you now.
My Old Man This body, Falling apart it would seem. The construction feels shoddy. And this mind, is mostly meandering, melancholy, and maligned. Then this heart... Holding onto hopes and dreams, Is losing his will to start. This old man- Makes meaning out of mole hills... and moves on without a plan.
In some ways I have succeeded and in some I have failed with regard to the Treochair form. This is but a general idea and a decent start.
If you have a copy of Robin Skelton’s book you’d like to send my way, I would not refuse it. One more thing… those links, up there ^^^, are to Amazon and I am an affiliate, so I could receive compensation if you were to use them… fair warning.
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan, All rights reserved.
Sometimes I get these ideas in my head and I can’t shake them. Tonight I was going to write a variation on a haiku that incorporates the form into a string of thematic verses to make a longer unified poem, but I also wasn’t terribly interested in writing a bunch of haikus that would be mediocre at best, just to finish something. (It could still happen, but not tonight).
So, I decided to futz around with the pantoum form to address my internal desire to avoid writing haiku style poems tonight. This is what came out of it…
No Haiku and I'm Stuck. Evening writing at a fever pitch There's always something new coming to mind a lot of things I let slip right on by but this one got my brain to twitch Always something new forms in my mind Tonight the muse desires a poem or two yep this one got my brain to twitch But now that I've begun I wonder why My fickle muse desires a poem or two the topic is "stuck" and she wants no haiku And now that I've begun I wonder why because I'm stuck and just about to cry. Evening writing at a fever pitch a lot of things I let slip right on by the topic is "stuck", she eschews haiku so I am stuck yet I shall give it a try.
I played a little bit with the meter and the rhyme, but ultimately it all came down to the repetition that I really enjoy about the Pantoum. Hope you enjoy it as well.
Cheers!
©2020, Tim Geoghegan, All rights reserved.
So there is this thing that happens every year. I get home and think, yeah, I’m gonna write for an hour and get something workable down… and then I get an invite to do something else… something… not writing.
It happened tonight, but despite that I tackled a poem… This is a haibun. The form is basically a prose poem followed by a haiku to form a unified poem.
He wakes from a dream, drenched and trembling. Sitting alone in the dark, composing his thoughts and gathering his nerves. He gazes out the window into a full moon night. She is there with him Across moon soaked winter miles... Her eyes haunt his thoughts.
I have found that this challenge often takes a few days to get into the flow. I am not there yet. The words are not flowing and the ideas feel jammed up. It is a result of getting out of practice, I know. The more I write the easier (maybe not easier, but quicker) the ideas will begin to flow.
If you are reading I invite you to share a response to any of these poems using the same style or a style of your own in the comments. I dare you to write something.
Cheers.
Part of the challenge is to write and publish a poem (or poem like thing) in the course of a day. It makes it much more difficult and the final product is often not exactly what I would want to be representative of the work I would expect of myself. The thing is, it is an exercise in discipline, pushing through to complete a task to which I have committed.
Writing in general and writing poems specifically is initially an act of control for me. Taking my thoughts and responding to them and through them, giving them form and perhaps substance. Much of what you will see here over the course of the month will be sloppy first or second drafts of poems that will possibly take shape over time to become finished products… I’m sharing them here now simply to have a reason to get something done each day.
So, here’s what I came up with…
Lost You wander in the morning light defy the night and never sleep secrets to keep. Your thoughts betray your lonely heart and from the start you kick and scream stuck in a dream. Your mind reels in the morning chill you feel him still although he’s gone the dream goes on.
A “minute poem” lives up to its name by being 60 syllables which means at one syllable per second it should only take a minute to read.
©2020, TIm Geoghegan, All rights reserved.
2014, I had a little too much to drink sometime in November and as a result talked myself into writing a poem a day for the month of December. It seemed like a creative challenge that would both amuse and challenge me. Somehow, I managed to complete the challenge and subsequently I did it again in 2015 and 2016 (the first year I didn’t finish). In 2017, 18, 19 we saw varying levels of success.
2020 had me seriously considering just taking the month off. This year has a negative rating on the Pritchard Scale . After much deliberation, here I am again, albeit with no ideas to speak of. So tonight I am just trying to get something down to share..
The poems I wrote in the past years were indicative of the things going on in my life. The years I didn’t finish also said something about those years for me. This exercise is mainly for me, but if in sharing it I bring you some joy, or spark something in your own thinking, I am happy. Feel free to converse with me through the month. See my commenting page for guidelines and buckle up… It MIGHT get interesting. For tonight…
Whiskey, no ice please. I like it neat, like poems, sippable and warm.
Heres to December 2020, Cheers!
©2020, TIm Geoghegan, All rights reserved.