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TANKA TAKE HOME: 14 June 2023. Sonam Chhoki: Featured Poet of the Month

hosts: Firdaus Parvez, Kala Ramesh, Priti Aisola & Suraja Menon Roychowdhury

Introducing a new perspective to our Wednesday Feature!


It is our pleasure to feature well known haijin and poet Sonam Chokki this month. Welcome Sonam! Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions! We hope you will visit us and share your comments and insights on the poems that will be posted.


3. TTH: How do you develop a tanka? Please guide us through the stages of a poem.


SC: It’s only fair to say that what works for me might not for another poet.


It’s the image that comes first: icicles on a cotoneaster, a crow on the pole of a faded prayer flag, a room in an empty house. This triggers thoughts/feelings and the poem takes shape. On an annual visit to the family home, this poem emerged as I was cleaning the place:


shell of a gecko

in father’s prayer room . . .

all these months

I thought no one visited

the ancestral home


Chrysanthemum 19, April 2016


4.

TTH: Who are your favourite tanka poets? In addition to tanka what other genres of poetry do you write or read? Tell us about some of the books you've enjoyed.


SC: No discussion about tanka would be complete without the mention of Ono no Komachi (825 -900) and Izumi Shikibu (approximately 970 – 1033). These women poets wrote very much in the aesthetics of the Heian court where much of their lives were spent behind screens, both physical and cultural. However, their verses are heart-wrenchingly relatable and memorable.

Of course, later Japanese tanka poets, particularly Yosano Akiko (1878 - 1942) and Machi Tawara (1962 -) write more overtly using explicit imagery of their bodies and sexual longings and reservations.


Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) is another “classical” tanka writer that I have re-read over the years.


We’re fortunate that there are many, inspirational contemporary tanka poets. One of my favourites is Gene Murtha (1955-2015), who was the first tanka editor at A Hundred Gourds launched in 2011and wrote with emotional depth and clarity of imagery:


I sold everything

except my Navajo cross

so precious

this god I hold dear

the same god I gave up


Ribbons 6:1


Other EL contemporary tanka poets whose work never fail to move and inspire are (in no particular order):


Amelia Fielden

Beverley George

Michael McClintock

Claire Everett

Susan Constable

Kathy Kituai


I have also tried my hand at haibun, haiku, haiga, tanbun, ryuka, sedoka, Burmese rhyming verse, the Korean sijo form and some free verse.



Here is a heartfelt tanka prose from Sonam's talented pen.


The Yoke of Love


I open the door of my daughter’s room with a laundry basket in hand. The bed is made as if she might rush up the stairs, fling herself and sink into it. In the “wealth corner” (feng shui is her latest passion) the money plant flutters in the breeze. “She has left the window open,” I note in surprise. All my pleadings to air out her room, which she seemed to shrug off, has not gone unheeded!


One of the earliest rhymes she learned in English:


Nobody likes me

Everybody hates me

I think l’ll eat some worms . . .


morphed as her anthem of protest. “I’m going to eat worms,” she would shout at any attempts to wash her hair or get her to sleep or stop her from beheading my summer blooms of nasturtium, calendula and scented lilies.


Her well-worn hoodie, t-shirt, track bottoms, underwear and socks are in a neat heap by the foot of bed. The mound of hair ties, brush, lip balm, canisters of deodorant, pens, coach/train dockets on the bedside table, are all gone. A barely-used tube of toothpaste lies on the floor. She mentioned convenience stores on the university campus close to the halls of residence. l tell myself that she will easily replenish her supplies.


In the study, her favourite cat mug is on the desk with a bunch of pencils and ballpoints. She has left a couple of books with a note:


“Please give these to cousin K. I forgot when l met him last week.”


how did you learn

to take leave with quiet ease

how will l learn

to accept this new reality

to let go a mother’s clasp


sunrise fog

a deer outside the window

so still and dark

like the unfinished shadow

of years we might still have


Drifting Sands Haibun, Issue 13, 2022


This week's challenge: Look around you. Find an object that has some meaning for you. Write a tanka or a tanka prose about it. Tanka off-prompt are welcome too.


An essay on how to write tanka: https://www.trivenihaikai.in/post/tanka-flights


PLEASE NOTE

1. Post only one poem at a time, only one per day.

2. Only 2 tanka and two tanka-prose per poet per prompt. Tanka art, too.

3. Share your best-polished pieces. 4. We are not looking at SEQUENCES NOW, of any length.

5. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written. Let it simmer for a while.

6. Post your final edited version on top of your original verse.

7. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.

We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished tanka and tanka-prose (within 250 words) to be considered for inclusion in the haikuKATHA monthly magazine.


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289 commentaires


mona bedi
mona bedi
20 juin 2023

Tanka prose


Matriarchy


The old chair sits comfortably in our living room. Dad refuses to remove it. He says that it is a family heirloom. It looks out of place in the modern setting of the room, where it proudly announces its existence. Mom calls it the grand dame of our family.


colouring

my greys i leave behind

a streak of silver hair

a reminiscent

of the years gone by


Feedback appreciated:)


J'aime

Sreenath
Sreenath
20 juin 2023

#3

20/6/23


yellow red

and green

hundreds

of colourful bells

no ring but a tang


~

Feedback Welcome

~


J'aime

Keith Evetts
Keith Evetts
20 juin 2023

Tanka prose #2 20 June


'Félicité Perpétue'


What's in a name?


It's a secluded spot, near the flint church that dates back to the 1100s. The warmth of a mellow brick wall carries a fine passion-flower through our winters. Wrought iron gates are left open all the time, so of a weekend night merry youths hang out there, showing off to each other, pretending to be older, more wordly than their years. On Sunday, a few volunteer pensioners living nearby clean up the little cylinders of laughing gas, the cans of Red Bull. The rest of the week its calm can be enjoyed from the worn oak benches.


an old lady in black

plants a rose

with a label

in…

J'aime
Keith Evetts
Keith Evetts
22 juin 2023
En réponse à

Of course after she'd gone, I had to look at the metal label plate.

J'aime

final version:


Privet


Snip snip in a cascade of clippings a hedge takes shape.…The gardener greets me but does not pause, nodding to a beat from the large black headphones over his baseball cap.


tiniest spider

who spent all night casting

a perfect orb

across the canopy

scuttles for cover


first version:


snip snip in a cascade of clippings a hedge takes shape...the gardener greets me but does not pause, nodding to the bass beat from large black headphones on his cap

tiniest spider

who spent all night casting

a perfect orb

across the canopy

scuttles for cover


J'aime
En réponse à

Thank you to all who responded. I’m doing some minor tweaking of the prose.

J'aime

Bonnie J Scherer
Bonnie J Scherer
19 juin 2023

Jun 19 Tanka Prose #1 Feedback welcome 🙂


𝗨𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗦𝘂𝗻


One day you’re wallowing in the winter doldrums. It seems that spring will never come. Never mind spring, in a blink of the eye, it’s summer! The woods green up overnight and the garden celebrates by busting out all over.


casting a shadow

in the garden

lovage

as tall as my youngest

growing like a weed

J'aime
Bonnie J Scherer
Bonnie J Scherer
20 juin 2023
En réponse à

Thank you for appreciating my tanka. I’m glad the pivot works for you. I wasn’t familiar with the etymology of “lovage”. That information makes the pivot even stronger as you point out.


The title is appropriate as I am relating my experience living here in Alaska.The midnight sun (and summer) is magical and, even after more than 40 years living in the state, my husband and I marvel at how quickly summer comes on. For this same reason, I believe the last line of my prose is appropriate. Furthermore, …” bursting out all over” ties in with where the tanka takes the reader: a plant in the garden growing by leaps and bounds as well as the youngest child.


Thank…

J'aime
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