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The Bowerbird Tanka Group |
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The Bowerbird Tanka Group meets twice a year at Wirraminna, Pearl Beach, the home of Eucalypt. It is a full day event to which many of the delegates and presenters travel long distances. The format comprises two to three main sessions, but may also include a lunch time speaker or several additional brief presentations.
The number of delegates is strictly limited to allow maximum individual participation and feedback. The emphasis is on encouragement and fostering the development of tanka, written in English, by Australians. The convenor is Beverley George, editor of Eucalypt.
Eucalypt hosts contact information about several regional tanka groups
| Meeting & Report | Appraisal by | Of a Tanka By |
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Jan Foster Carole Harrison Kent Robinson Jan Dean Dy Andreasen David Terelinck Dawn Bruce Keitha Keyes Catherine Smith Gail Hennessy Sylvia Florin Marilyn Humbert Yvonne Hales Anne Benjamin Beatrice Yell Jan Foster M L Grace Shona Bridge David Terelinck Carmel Summers Jo Tregellis |
Bob Lucky Carole MacRury Belinda Broughton Yosano Akiko Claire Everett Susan Constable Max Ryan Chen-ou Liu Claire Everett Keitha Keyes Margaret Chula Pamela A Babusci Matthew Paul Julianne King Jeanne Moreau Carmen Sterba Tony A Thompson/Kirsty Karkow Tony Beyer John Quinnett an'ya Barbara Fisher |
Appraisal by David Terelinck
(Given at the 5th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th September 2010)
A favourite tanka of mine is taken from Eucalypt 8, and is by John Quinnett.
in the cellar
an unopened jar
of sourwood honey –
only the bees knew
he had a sweet side
Within this deceptively simple tanka, Quinnett says much about the sting of dysfunctional relationships. On the surface this is a tanka of someone who has died who was less than convivial. However, the use of the lines only the bees knew/he had a sweet side indicates that quite a lot was known about this man by many others – but none of it positive. We don’t need this spelled out to enable us to envisage what it may encompass within our own soured relationships.
We are invited into this tanka with the use of words like cellar and unopened. These words appealed to my childhood instincts to explore dark and forbidden places. And in doing so I am encouraged to examine my own relationships: what will be remembered as sweet and sour of myself after I have died?
The alliteration of the s-sound can almost be construed as the soft buzz of bees hard at work making honey.
Seasonal polarity is offered in cellar and unopened juxtaposed with honey and bees. Here we have the inward turning of autumn to winter – the storage of produce in cellars and the dormancy of lying fallow in the ground. The unopened jar alludes to emotions kept bottled and pushed deep down out of sight, perhaps even hidden. Yet the honey and bees indicate spring, new blossoming, and the approach and openness of summer.
These succinctly align with the incongruent sweetness of sourwood honey. But beyond all of this is another layer of foundations set within the specific choice of honey type – sourwood. By all accounts, sourwood honey is anything but sour and is one of the most highly prized, and rare, of the American honeys. The choice of this honey also neatly narrows the geographic scale of this tanka, making it very specific to the southern United States from Georgia to Pennsylvania.
Sourwood honey comes from the Oxydendrum arboreum or sourwood tree – also known as sorrel or lily of the valley. It flowers only from late June to early August; a time when very few other flowers are blooming. As the bloom time is very short, timing of production is critical to achieve purity and rests in the expertise of a skilled beekeeper. If the bees are brought to the area too soon, they will harvest from the sumac trees that bloom before the sourwood, and if they are brought too late, they will miss the beginning of the flow of nectar altogether.
Thus we are given a hint at the exacting skill and precision of this man. And an insight into the tenuousness of connecting, and the short window of opportunities that life can present to us. Not just within nature, but also perhaps within relationships too. It further illustrates that although this individual may have been less than adroit at human interaction, he did possess a sense of timing and a unique relationship with nature. That although his own kind may not have understood him, he developed a close alliance with nature, and especially the bees and honey production.
This leads me to ask more questions. Why is this person so much more comfortable alone in a stand of sourwood trees than with his family? And who is this man? Is he father, brother, grandfather, or uncle? What prevented this man from connecting with his own kind? Was his window of opportunity cut short?
Despite the sweet and alluring taste of the honey, the leaves of the Oxydendrum arboreum are sour-tasting with a laxative effect. This is further proof of the subtle use of light-dark, sweet-sour, summer-winter imagery of this tanka. That from sour roots sweetness can blossom, and vice versa. Evidence that within good there is bad, in light we have shadows, and we would have no measure of sweetness if we did not understand and experience the sour in life and in others.
in the cellar
an unopened jar
of sourwood honey –
only the bees knew
he had a sweet side
Appraisal by Carmel Summers
(Given at the 5th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th September 2010)
old memories
like tangled fish hooks
impossible
to pick up only one
without all the others
an’ya, Lapine, Oregon
(1st place, Tanka Society of America Competition, 2008)
When I first read this tanka, I thought “oh yes” that’s just how it is, without even thinking through the full extent of the simile, and hoped that one day I might be able to write a tanka almost as good as this one. Over the years I’ve returned to it, each time coming away with a fresh insight into how the right words are used in the right place in the right number. I found that for me, this tanka has layers of suggestion, evoking layers of response.
At the first layer, this is a visual tanka – you can SEE the tangled snarl of fish hooks and, like that old game of fiddle sticks, it would be almost impossible to gently extract one fish hook without disturbing the others. As a simile for memories it works well, you can imagine fishing in the storehouse of your mind to find a particular memory and savor it, only to find a flood of other memories that you can’t stop. I’m sure that everyone has experienced that.
This is where the power of the simile works to enhance the impact of the tanka. The first part of the simile is about the act of fishing. I get the sense that the poet is reaching for a very particular memory, just as you dangle a hook to catch a fish, where you choose not just the hook, but the bait and tackle to cope with a particular type of fish.
At the same time, the tanka starts with a very general statement, “old memories” – not just any memories but “old” ones – deep buried and perhaps they’ve been buried for a reason. There is also a sense that having lurked below the surface for so long, these old memories have become interwined and perhaps confused. We don’t know for sure but there’s a possibility there.
The next layer is going into the particular side effects this shock of memories can yield. Fish hooks are barbed, treacherous objects, designed to trap the unwary. The poet implies that memory, too, is a risky business. Memories can be joyful, but often have painful edges so the experience can be bitter sweet – a mixture of pain and pleasure. Because you can’t be selective about the memories that surface – the “ambush” effect of them, the memories might represent something that you would much rather forget.
Finally I looked at the particular words in this tanka. It is a deceptively simple tanka – simple language, many of the words just one syllable. Yet every word plays an important role. The key words to me were “old”, “only” and “all”. Very simple, basic words, not particularly poetic in their own right.
I mentioned earlier the significance of “old memories. What is the significance of the word “only”? To me the poet is striving to reach a particular memory. If you remove the “only” and read the line as “impossible to pick up one” – the meaning is the same, but it isn’t as strong as “impossible to pick up only one”.
The word “all” in the last line serves a similar function. The line has the same meaning without it: “without the others” – almost, but not quite as encompassing as “without all the others”. The “all” becomes slightly menacing – it suggests that “resistance is futile” – there is absolutely nothing the poet can do to stem the flow and deny some of these past memories.
This tanka was described by the judges of the TSA competition in the following words:
“First prize: Aphoristic, to be sure, but appropriately so and a wonderfully apt choice of image and metaphor, an’ya’s poem caught and kept our attention. The poem’s imaginative leap from “old memories” to “tangled fish hooks” carries remarkable force; it may not be a pretty image but it is, without doubt, a psychologically valid one, conveying both the character of fish hooks and the mixture of pleasure and pain that is human memory. There is nothing fancy here; the tone is matter-of-fact. It is a classic poem of the singular, durable image. [Note 1] ”
I agree with these comments, but to me, they underestimate the careful crafting of this poem that gives it its resonance and appeal.
Carmel Summers
19 September 2010
----------------------
Note 1.
McClintock, Michael and Strickland, Johnye, Tanka Society of America website: http://www.tankasocietyofamerica.com/Contest2008.htm June 2008
Appraisal by Jo Tregellis
(Given at the 5th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th September 2010)
I have chosen a tanka by Barbara Fisher from Eucalypt 8.
how strange
to see tree ferns
bent with snow
and the rough red road
silent and white
The opening line provides a sense of mystery, a sense that something unusual will be revealed in this tanka. I wasn't disappointed.
Barbara Fisher's tanka is deceptively simple, gliding off my tongue with ease, and creating mind pictures.
I see two opposite scenes, one cold, one hot; one white and green, one red; one delicate, one harsh. I smell both moistness and dust.
There is a sound contrast. I hear the sound of wheels crunching the unsealed road, and then silence. My experience of falling snow is nil, but I don't think tree ferns grow in snowfields but I could be wrong. The ferns bent with snow would not be out of place in a ballet.
The rough red road is like a child ruining a painting with uncaring strokes. Then in three words I'm gently led back to the graceful tree ferns. The word "bent" reminds me that in Australia particularly, scenes may change so dramatically.
I find the balance of alliteration and assonance very pleasing to my ear. Not one word is wasted by the poet.
Since choosing this tanka I have decided to look for and read more of Barbara Fisher's writing.
Appraisal by Jan Foster
(Given at the 6th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 20th March 2011)
an Amish woman
dressed in grey
her heartsong
in the vivid colours
of her prize quilt
Carmen Sterba
On the surface, a simple tanka, traditional in shape and expression but, like all the topnotch tanka, a layering of thoughts which provide a wealth of concepts for the reader to come back to many times over. In the true tanka tradition, it begins simply, each line adding to the thought, growing to a crescendo in the final line, where the whole theme is laid before the delighted reader.
‘an Amish woman’
This first line presents us with the foundation for the thought to follow. This lady is no ordinary woman. She belongs to an enclosed community who live under strict rules designed to separate them from worldliness in all its forms. The Amish believe that everything should serve a purpose and anything that doesn’t is considered a distraction from the worship of God and therefore sinful and pointless.
‘dressed in grey’
So they dress in dark colours and their homes are similarly decorated, but the Amish women are renowned for their glorious quilts. Most Amish communities are in the northern states of the USA, where it is extremely cold in winter and quilts are a vital part of any household. Amish girls are taught from early childhood to sew these, both for their future homes and for gifts to give to others. Quilting is also a sensible way of using up scraps of fabric, thus fitting the Amish ethos of practicality.
‘her heartsong’
This is a beautifully crafted line, fitting both the previous two lines and the two which follow. She is a devoted community member who firmly subscribes to it’s principles, thus her Amishness and her subdued clothing. However, she is also appreciative of beauty and freely expresses it in the acceptable complexity and skill of her quilt. During the long housebound hours of winter, she would be sewing together her scraps, all to the carefully crafted design she has planned. But in the warm months of summer, she would join with other women of her community to help each other construct the backing and batting these large quilts require. Here in these gatherings, she would find her joy in friendship, exchanging news, opinions, recipes and cementing community relationships.
‘in the vivid colours’
Since she doesn’t wear or use vivid colours in her own clothes, these scraps have obviously been carefully gleaned from other sources. The reader can imagine the hours of thought and planning she has put into this beautiful and acceptable expression of her creativity, her heartsong, a true and revealing display of her nature
‘of her prize quilt’
Here is the payoff line of the tanka. This woman, despite the strict rules governing every aspect of her life, has not only not felt her celebration of beauty stifled, but has soared to a point where her quilt is prized. By whom, is not important. Whether it be her family, her friends, the wider community, where many Amish women now sell their quilts, or simply herself, this quilt has been the pinnacle of her expressive personality.
I’ve come back to this tanka many times since I first read it, yet I still find new aspects of it to ponder. To me, this represents the true essence of tanka, a whole story told in five short lines.
an Amish woman
dressed in grey
her heartsong
in the vivid colours
of her prize quilt
Carmen Sterba
© Jan Foster 2011
Appraisal by M L Grace
(Given at the 6th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 20th March 2011)
Tanka Revisited
From the Heian court period of the 10th century to present day tanka, we see, woven through the turning seasons and the phases of the sun, moon and tides, the full gamut of human emotions expressed in an endless variety of loss and longing, love and unrequited love, birth illness and dying, compassion joy and sorrow, acceptance and resignation.
I often muse that tanka writing should be called tanka therapy.
I have chosen two tanka to discuss for their less commonly expressed emotions ie.guilt and jealousy —
The first tanka is from Eucalypt Vol 3 by Tony A Thompson:
a rope
hanging from a tree
swings in spring wind . . .
the tightness around my throat
when I lie to her again
Here we have a juxtaposition of two images.
‘a rope hanging from a tree swings in spring wind’ . . .
An innocent Rococo image in itself, until placed in the context of the last lines, which then evoke a sinister connotation with the words hanging, swings and even spring. Why was it a spring wind?
The guilt compounds.
Does the word spring suggest an association with youth, a younger woman or perhaps a developing relationship in its infancy?
In the fourth line; ‘the tightness around my throat’ with the alliteration of tightness and throat, makes sure we feel it, here the tension builds and the last line . . . ‘when I lie to her again’, that word again tells us it is not the first time.
Who is the person lying to? A wife, a de-facto, a mother, a daughter and why?
I can only weave my own story yet still I feel the guilt.
This tanka uses ‘feeling images’, more kinetic in nature rather than clear visual images and has the potential to penetrate the conscience.
a rope
hanging from a tree
swings in spring wind . . .
the tightness around my throat
when I lie to her again
The second poem, another tanka from Eucalypt, vol 2 written by Kirsty Karkow appeals to me for its simplicity of words, yet covert in suggestion. An innocent snap-shot at first glance, as a proud mother holds out a photo to us and points out her son.
a snapshot
of me and the girl —
between us
handsome as ever
is my only son
When layers are peeled away questions arise. Why does the mother refer to her son’s, assumed friend, as the girl leaving her nameless?
And then the following lines :
between us
handsome as ever
is my only son
The phrase ‘handsome as ever’; does this insinuate the girl is not the perfect one?
The son centred between them as in a tug of war hints at a level of jealousy and that word ‘only’ implies to me she is not giving him up easily.
A difficult emotion to portray, presented in the visual medium of a photograph, which disguises hidden complexities . Karkow does it very well.
Both poems reflect an emotional honesty.
The first poem, a rope . . . a juxtaposing of nature (the outer world) with human nature (the inner world), along with the second poem, the snapshot . . . are examples of tanka that reveal to me hidden depths, forcing me to come back to them again and again.
For me both poems have the elements of immediacy and truth.
a snapshot
of me and the girl —
between us
handsome as ever
is my only son
Soetsu Yanagi, in his wonderful book, ‘The Unknown craftsman, A Japanese Insight into Beauty’, suggests the practice of creating through nonconceptulisation rather than relying on the intellect. * I feel this equally applies to Tanka writing.
*ref. The Unknown Craftsman. A Japanese insight into Beauty.By Soetsu YanagiAdapted by Bernard Leach ISBN 0-87011-948-6 © M L Grace 2011
Appraisal by Shona Bridge
(Given at the 6th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 20th March 2011)
I have chosen a poem by Tony Beyer from Eucalypt (Issue 6, 2009).
awkward
as if eight limbs
between us
were too many
to arrange
Tony Beyer
For the next few minutes, I would like to discuss some of the striking qualities of this tanka.
The most immediately obvious thing about this poem is its brevity. It has only 12 words – 12 short words. All but four of these words are single-syllabled, which creates a total of only 16 syllables.
Here we have a tanka where there’s nothing unnecessary. There’s no distraction. There’s no punctuation. Every word is working to create meaning. The brevity of language and lack of punctuation creates a sense of space around this poem, and to me this has the effect of sharpening the lens on the moment presented on the page.
So let’s look more closely at this moment.
The subject of the poem is ‘we’ – so we have two people, reduced for now to the acute self-consciousness of their physical selves. We don’t know the nature of the relationship between these people but we do know that in this moment there’s a sense of nothing else existing between them but these 8 limbs… and what the limbs represent. There is nothing else in their environment. There are no distractions. The spare shape of the poem mirrors its content – there’s nowhere to hide.
The moment on the page is one of human vulnerability, but it is also one of possibility. It is a moment on the threshold of intimacy.
And this, quite simply, is one of the reasons I think this poem is so extraordinary: In 12 short words it reveals and contrasts awkwardness and intimacy, vulnerability and possibility, self-consciousness and emotional clarity. It gives expression to the true complexities of our human experience.
Tony Beyer is a New Zealander but his poem shares some of the qualities described by Julie Thorndyke in her recent article about a unique Australian tanka style.
In particular, Tony Beyer (like many contemporary Australian tanka poets) provides the “hint of narrative – without explaining too much.” As Julie suggests, he allows room for the reader to “…follow the narrative thread that has been dangled tantalizingly before them.”
The narrative thread of this poem begins with an emotion – awkwardness – rather than a dominant image. In fact, there’s only one noun in the whole poem – limbs – and these limbs aren’t described in any more detail than their number. But even so, I don’t think the lack of concrete imagery diminishes the poem in any way.
Why? Because the image of the limbs is built powerfully and indirectly through the narrative of the human relationship to those limbs. That is:· There are too many
· They are coming ‘between’ ourselves and someone else in a significant way
· The responsibility to do something about it (ie. to ‘arrange’ them in an acceptable manner) brings us back to the awkwardness we have begun with.
Finally I would just like to comment on the musicality of this tanka.
Again, there are only 12 words, but the rhythm of these words, the placement of the line breaks, the echo of the ‘w’ and ‘t’ sounds through-out. Let’s listen to it one more time…
awkward
as if eight limbs
between us
were too many
to arrange
Tony Beyer
So these are my thoughts on this tanka from Tony Beyer. I am certainly not an expert on tanka, but I have enjoyed this opportunity to reflect more deeply on the qualities of this beautiful and resonant piece of writing.
REFERENCES
Eucalypt – A Tanka Journal, Issue 6, 2009.
Thorndyke, Julie. Tanka – is there an Australian Style? In Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal, E-News, No.28, February 2011.
© Shona Bridge 2011
Appraisal by Beatrice Yell
(Given at the 7th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th November, 2011)
The centuries-old tanka, once carefully brush-stroked on hand-made paper, was sent with a flower or some other token, on foot or on horseback. It survives today using modern technology – the immediacy of the internet. Via Jane Reichhold’s site I’ve taken a poem from a recently published (January 2011) tanka sequence of linked verse ‘doors’ by June Moreau of the US and Giselle Maya from France. Their poems alternate and they don’t necessarily use ‘door’ or ‘doors’ to start or finish each one, it is merely the central theme. This one by Moreau uses and needs no punctuation.I openedA simple, matter of fact first two lines describe an everyday moment –
the door this morning
the whole sky
came in and fields
of white clover
I opened
the door this morning
but then it changes to convey the writer’s heightened level of awareness on a particular Spring morning. With
the whole sky
came in
she conveys the immediacy of light coming into her house from the vast expanse of sky, and then in line 4, skilfully conveyed, there is a pause, a catch of breath as she sees the fields covered in white flowers - clover – which have probably appeared overnight. Her other senses are invaded.
and fields
of white clover
One can almost smell the faint sweetness emanating from the small blooms and hear bees as they hover over the clover. Through her deceptively simple words of one and two syllables we are able to share in her joy of being alive in the moment, to enjoy this unexpected pleasure in her day. I’m interested in attempting to share fleeting sensory experiences through tanka.
I opened
the door this morning
the whole sky
came in and fields
of white clover
© 2011 Beatrice Yell
start of bowerbird
Appraisal by Yvonne Hales
(Given at the Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19 November 2011)
One of my favourite tanka is by Matthew Paul. It appears in Eucalypt 8.
climbing Bredon
to an iron-age camp
towards dusk
fallow deer skedaddle
over terracotta fields
This tanka invites us to put our lives into perspective. As we locate ourselves among the ruins of Roman occupation and its battles we are reminded of past struggles and lives lost. Yet we also awake to the fragility of human life and the constancy of the coming and going of each day. I need to be reminded not to look too deeply or to intellectualise too much - simply to be present in the here and now. The setting of this tanka is worth taking in …
Climbing Bredon / to an iron-age camp
Bredon Hill is a nature reserve in the outlying Cotswold Hills of Worcestershire (West Midlands, England). It is home to many endangered species. A climb to the top (about 300 m high) gives spectacular views of the surrounding countryside. On the horizon are the Malvern Hills. The Severn and Avon rivers flow through the wide valley between Bredon Hill and the Malverns. The views take in a gently undulating landscape - small areas of open woodland and a patchwork of grasslands and wheat fields.
At the summit of the hill are the remains of earthworks from an iron-age hill fort known as Kemerton Camp. The fort was attacked and destroyed early in the 1st century A.D. after a significant battle prior to Roman invasion. A steep escarpment drops away on the north side of the Hill. The inner ramparts of the hill fort have been found to date back to 300BC.
I was interested to read of the recent discovery of Roman coins. They are thought to have been owned by a Roman soldier. The coins were found among pieces of pottery on Bredon Hill during the recent English summer. Just last Thursday the local newspapers reported that the hoard was declared to be treasure at an inquest. Over 3,800 coins were found inside a storage jar of the same period and feature 16 different Roman Emperors. They are on display at a local museum after which they will be sent to the British Museum for valuation.
towards dusk
It’s approaching that time of the day of an English summer’s evening – at the end of sunset and before darkness falls ….. around 8.30pm - 9.00pm.
At this turning point in the day, as the sun sets on the Roman ruins of the hill fort – on the lives lost and the brutality of war 2,000 years ago – our attention is also turned towards the present … as the
fallow deer skedaddle / over terracotta fields
Skedaddle – so descriptive isn’t it. We can picture the deer delicately and quietly moving among the landscape down below then suddenly fleeing in haste – startled perhaps, across the fields.
Terracotta pottery was made during the Iron Age and Roman occupation. Pieces of pottery are scattered around the hill slopes of Bredon. We might draw a parallel with the shades of terracotta among the wheat fields as the sun goes down.
The sounds of the words ‘climbing’ and ‘iron’ seem to suggest a slower pace, the effort of walking up to the hill fort. While the quicker movements of the fallow deer are aligned with the words ‘skedaddle’ and ‘terracotta’.
I can’t put this tanka aside without paying homage to the local poet, A. E. Houseman, who wrote a poem called Bredon Hill. It was published in 1896 and was #21 in his Shropshire Lad series. In the style of traditional English verse. It is spoken by a young man to church bells, which are personified as summons to worship, a prelude to the joy of marriage and, sadly, the end of life and love.
We don’t need to climb Bredon to get a perspective on the fragility of life. Any vantage point will do. Any sudden movement in the undergrowth reminds us that we share the land with other forms of life. But there is surely something special about a walk up to the old hill fort one summer’s evening – among the ruins of the past – to catch a glimpse of the present.
climbing Bredon
to an iron-age camp
towards dusk
fallow deer skedaddle
over terracotta fields
Matthew Paul
© 2011 Yvonne Hales
Appraisal by Anne Benjamin
(Given at the Bowerbird Tanka Group meeting November 19, 2011)
Gran
used to walk by the water
in an old yellow slicker
heavy with stones
and unspoken poems
Julianne King*
This tanka is simple. There is a strong visual image with a twist in the last line. The words are plain. The third line is unconventionally long, but balanced by the last two shorter lines. The tanka may not meet Martin Lucas’ standard of “poetic spell”, but it certainly has an impact.
The tanka begins with an image: a woman beside water. We imagine a lake, perhaps, or a river or the ocean. She is mature, old enough to be a grandmother, but not necessarily elderly. The water is grey and the sky is overcast and the yellow jacket she is wearing stands out. She moves slowly because of the load she carries. We can perhaps hear the soft jumbling of the stones against each other as she walks. Is she a collector of rocks and stones and coloured things, such as a child would be, and such as a grandchild would notice? Is she an artist who chooses them for their beauty? Or a geologist? Is she collecting stones to skim across the water? To throw at dogs, children or some danger or enemy she perceives? The woman walks beside the water, and if she is not alone, at least she is solitary.
The tanka gives few hints about the relationship between the observer/writer and the grandmother. The writer makes observations – is it as a child? Or as an adult? Is the older woman watched with affection? Or is there concern in the observer’s watching? Is the writer simply amused by an old woman’s idiosyncrasy? Somehow, there is affection in the warm intimacy of the title, “Gran”. In her yellow rain jacket, she appears as a bright spot on her grandchild’s horizon.
For me, the tanka suggests sparse details about the older woman and her life. The “old yellow slicker” conveys something of the woman who was “Gran”: a practical woman not worried by vanity, content with a coat that was worn and perhaps a little shabby. It is past tense: she “used” to walk, as in, there was a time when she walked by the water, but doesn’t do so anymore. However, the same line can also imply that she was accustomed to walk by the water referring to something the woman repeatedly did. All we know for sure is that now she doesn’t walk that way anymore. Has she died? Has she gone away? Does someone or something prevent her? Yet, it is a bright and warm-hearted memory.
Gran
used to walk by the water
in an old yellow slicker
In the last two lines, there is a change.Gran
used to walk by the water
in an old yellow slicker
heavy with stones
and unspoken poems
With just six words, the mood of the tanka shifts. With the use of “heavy”, the tanka becomes layered with possibilities: “heavy with stones” as in weighed down. Are they more than random pieces of rock? Are these stones of sadness, abuse, dementia? Or of imagination, reflection and ideas? “Heavy” also can be read as pregnant as in “heavy with child” and about to give birth. The tanka tells us that this brightly-clad woman is “heavy with poems” rattling around within the pockets of her conscious and subconscious. What opportunities were denied her for speaking out her poems? What opportunities did she choose not to take? Inter-generational relationships hold this tanka together and lead the reader to retrace the paths of other “grans”, “mums” and grandchildren in their similarities and divergence.
What does it suggest to us about the creative process? What happens when a poet takes what is felt and known from the private pockets of experience and shapes it into words? Surely, there is a lightness of spirit when the unspoken finally is released as a poem? But this tanka seems to be about “unspoken poems” and what is suggested is the thwarting of the creative process. And so, it moves into shadows. Why did Gran seek out the water so habitually? Was it, that burdened by her stones, she constantly was drawn towards the water, just as the writer Virginia Wolf is thought to have been, in choosing her death? One does not need to walk physically into water to have the experience of drowning. And we wonder at the relationships in her life – other than that of her grandchild. After the sound of the tanka has fallen away, the disturbance of this allusion continues to ripple.Gran
used to walk by the water
in an old yellow slicker
heavy with stones
and unspoken poems
But then, the slicker is bright and yellow, not sinister. Perhaps, this tanka is about how a mature woman can gather cold stones, warm them in the deep recesses of her experience and create something of meaning and beauty. Did Gran, perhaps, return to the house, refreshed by her wanderings, and pour her unspoken poems out onto paper? Or into pancakes and home-making? Or were her poems always hers only, unshared, and kept within the privacy of her room? The satisfaction of reading this tanka is its potential to suggest so much with so few words.
*Julianne King in Take Five, Best Contemporary Tanka, Vol Three, Edited by M.Kei,, A. von Vaupel. A. Antononovic, M. Dale, A. Fiedlden, A. Riutta, J. Tipton. Modern English Tanka Press, 2010
© Anne Benjamin
Appraisal by Marilyn Humbert
(Given at the Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, Feb 19th 2012)
i walk for miles
after your betrayal
my black beret
white and heavy
in the endless snow
Pamela A. Babusci
Ribbons Volume 7 Number 3 Fall 2011
I was drawn to this poem by the overwhelming sadness expressed. So much emotion in five short lines. There is no punctuation in this poem. None is needed; the line breaks do their job well.
i walk for miles
after your betrayal
The first line of the tanka is straightforward and to my mind unremarkable, a simple statement of fact. The use of first person draws the reader in. The second line, the pivot line, allows the reader dreaming room. There is no hint in the poem whether the duplicity is that of a lover, a friend or even someone from a workplace. Perhaps the author is speaking of the death of a loved one, a confidence or a relationship. Walking for miles works well to demonstrate the loneliness and aloneness and hints at moving on in life afterwards.
The next three lines tell us more.
my black beret
white and heavy
in the endless snow
The clever use of black and white, aids in visualising the scene. The starkness of white snow against the only other hint of colour, the black beret, is a photograph in monochrome. The scene is created so I can feel the physical weight of walking alone through a never-ending snowfall, but I don’t think the author wants us to take these lines literally.
These three lines work together to express the depth of her sadness and loss. The use of white hints at death and sorrow, weighed down by the coldness of the betrayal - endless snow suggests she will never get over it. The betrayal must have been significant.
This poem flows, as it creates the trudge of feet in the desolation of cold, white snow by using bb – black beret and the assonance in endless and snow. This tanka fills me with sadness and empathy for the author and creates vivid imagery.
i walk for miles
after your betrayal
my black beret
white and heavy
in the endless snow
Appraisal by Gail Hennessy
(Given at the Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th February, 2012)
I have chosen a tanka by Keitha Keyes from ‘Grevillia and Wonga Vine’, edited by Beverley George and David Terelinck (2011).
gashes of lightning
summer storm in the mallee —
smell the first raindrops
exploding on red earth . . .
the dams have their mouths open
I have chosen this tanka because I find it so quintessentially Australian. The effect of drought is a recurring theme in all our lives from the city to the country and 2010 saw the breaking of a drought that had devastated so much of our land for over a decade. Not only was the countryside dry and parched but all Australians in suburbs and cities felt the absence of rain. While farmers struggled to sustain crops and livestock our cities and suburbs where in crisis as the water in the dams dropped to critical levels. So this is a very contemporary tanka and yet the description is also timeless.
There is something spiritual I believe in the breaking of drought. That spiritual sense is evoked by the accumulation of very concrete images and with every image building to a climax.
It begins:
gashes of lightning
summer storm in the mallee —
A scene is set. We see the approach of the storm heralded by the lightning. I found the use of the word ‘gashes’, an arresting choice of word. A more predictable choice, one that is linked with lightning, would have been ‘flashes’ but the choice of ‘gashes’ heralds a different possibility. Lightning may come to nothing, a mere electrical storm that passes without consequence. However a gash suggests a wound and this links our thoughts with the idea of the sky being torn open. This is no mere electrical storm.
We are given a sense of place - this is mallee country, it is country Australia. Southern Victoria and South Australia are linked by the Murray Darling Rivers, one of the highest producing agricultural areas of Australia, and we are aware that this part of the continent has been in a state of crisis for decades decimated by the lack of rain.
gashes of lightning
summer storm in the mallee —
smell the first raindrops
If the traditional tanka hinges on the third line then ‘smell the first raindrops’ captures exactly the notion of the breaking of drought. After drought rain has its own distinct smell. For I think it is the smell of the rain that is our first sensory perception when at last the drought breaks. I can remember, as a child and adult, running outside, mouth open, to dance under those first raindrops at the same time as inhaling the welcome smell of the rainfall.
smell the first raindrops
exploding on red earth . . .
Not only is our sense of smell brought into the tanka but we can see the raindrops ‘exploding on red earth’. The use of the word ‘red’ brings sight through colour back into the poem at the same time as it delineates the barrenness of the land, mallee country devoid of pasture. ‘Exploding’ is such a wonderful choice of word. Not only for its onomatopoeic resonance but for the way it conjures up the visual. The dry earth cannot absorb the rain. Rather it ricochets off, each drop exploding in its density.
exploding on red earth . . .
is followed by three dots — an ellipse
I am very fond of the ellipse. To me it not only invites the reader to pause but it signifies a change in direction. The scene has been action filled in terms of our senses, each line referring to the natural world, and now we are asked to contemplate a very different image. The writer makes the leap to a man-made construction, purpose-built to store water for both man and beast.
the dams have their mouths open
This final image ‘the dams with their mouths open’ is such a powerful use of personification – we can see the gaping thirsty dams waiting for the life giving water. It is what they are built for. It is what we have longed for. The poem links country and city dwellers in that wonderful image. It’s a line I wish I had written! A tanka that works on a level both concrete and spiritual capturing a very real Australian experience. And what I like most about it is the way it dissolves the dichotomy between bush and city that often divides Australian poetry.
gashes of lightning
summer storm in the mallee —
smell the first raindrops
exploding on red earth . . .
the dams have their mouths open
Keitha Keyes
Appraisal by Sylvia Florin
(Given at the Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th February, 2012)
yesterday’s desires
what were they?
a vase
without flowers
holds only itself
Margaret Chula *
I chose this poem by Margaret Chula because it lingered in my mind, even though when I first read it I didn’t understand it very much at a conscious level. I was happy to use this occasion as an opportunity to explore it further.
Overview
The poem is in two parts. The first part is an abstract question about an aspect of human life or of a human life. And the second part contains a single and seemingly simple image of a vase without flowers.
Line by Line
yesterday’s desires
is one of the two longer lines in the poem and this length and relative wordiness seem congruent with its meaning. Desires take up a lot of room in our lives - both in our minds and in our external lives. We spend a lot of time entertaining them mentally, trying to manage them and enacting them physically – be it learning to write tanka , going travelling, planning a garden..…. And it seems fair to say that many of them do pass, become yesterday’s. Some disappear quickly, others change their shape or quality with time, and a few may endure for all or most of a lifetime
what were they?
Is a short and sharp line as befits the realization that those desires didn’t amount to so much after all / not from the vantage point of today. They were ephemeral, have passed. This clipped line conveys, for me, a sense of perplexity or wonder or disappointment.
I was unsure how to read this line, where to place the emphasis – on were, or on they. The poem could be read either way. I chose to emphasize were because it generated thought of both the passing of the desires and of their nature.
a vase
is a spacious and capacious vessel, and the sound of the word is similarly generous and open.
It is central in the poem in both position and in meaning. It is the only positive and concrete image in the poem.
Its indentation creates a vase like-shape to the poem.
Although an integral part of the poem’s image of a vase without flowers, having it on a separate line from without flowers, underlines its independence from the flowers. A vase can be overlooked, when filled with eye-catching flowers.
a vase without flowers
the image is a surprisingly effective one and I think that is because it is presented in the negative. I could not imagine a vase without flowers without first imagining a vase with flowers – a bit like trying not to think of an elephant - and so those few words generated several images in my mind: a variety of vases with a variety of flowers, and then a vase without flowers. I wonder if the fact that I had to make the flowers pass in my mind to reach the vase without flowers, the secret of the image’s effectiveness, - that it made this reader anyway, do that work, and so live out in my mind, the experience of something passing, like the desires.
Flowers are often a symbol of what is ephemeral, and of beauty and so a good pairing with the desires that have gone, many of which may have seemed beautiful at the time.
holds only itself
this line holds the mystery of the poem. At the same time it feels a gentle and satisfactory ending to the poem. It is the softest line in the poem and carries a sense of settling, of conclusion, of beauty. What does an empty vase hold? Air? Emptiness? Nothing? Its structure? Potential? Completeness?
Taken as a whole
The long half rhyming vowels in desires, vase and flowers make the poem quite sizeable to say and so give the poem a weight commensurate with its subject, As well they tie the lines together and are pleasing to the ear.
There is a sense of movement in the poem from busyness – the desires, the perplexity – to a peaceful stillness at its conclusion – traveling via the imagining of a vase with flowers and a vase without flowers.
The poem is very spare, so few words, so few syllables. And it makes use of the negative, of absence – the vase without flowers, the desires that were yesterday’s. This use of negatives, the conjuring of phenomena and their passing, and the sparseness of the words in dealing with a big subject – create for me, the feelings of spaciousness, mystery, possibility and weight that I continue to enjoy so much.
* This poem won 1st Prize, The 6th International Tanka Contest 2009 (Tokyo Poetry Society) and will be published in Margaret Chula’s new tanka collection.
Appraisal by Dawn Bruce
(Given at the 9th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 16th February 2013)
work bootsMax Ryan from Eucalypt Issue 7, 2009
on the sand? he sips tea
from his thermos lid,
drifts on the endless blue
of a lunch-time sea
First some personal notes about this tanka.
Reading this ancient form of poetry written by the moderns can help us discover more about ourselves in this 21st century.
I chose this tanka because it invites me to enter a mediative space where I can appreciate again the simple pleasures of life.
A favourite pastime of mine when travelling is people watching. I think Max Ryan shows he too enjoys this activity. His observations are keen and sharp.
At first glimpse I imagined a worker tired after a morning's toil ...on some beach project ... maybe a council man resting in the shade under a big boulder or under trees like those at Pearl Beach
Thermos tea shows us he is probably a self sufficient, older man ...a younger one would nip into a café for a take away coffee.
Here is the moment where he can rest after a rewarding morning of labour, have the non- demanding companionship of nature ...the sea, sand, smell of the briny, all about him, while enjoying a simple lunch break. Max has used the senses well.
Work boots on the sand suggests they have been taken off and so further extends that relaxed tone.
The poem is imbued with a reflective quality radiating a sense of calm and happy acceptance. It is very much about living in the now...a quiet period in this person?s life.
This tanka is like a painting, using delicate brush strokes and the softest of hues to create an impression of 'alls well with the world' mood.
Some points about structure.
The poem has the almost s/l/s/l/l form... L5, though not visually long, seems long, because of the image of a lunch-hour sea...it seems to go on and on like the wide expanse of ocean...allows the magic of dreaming time.
The dramatic L1 work boots is an eye catcher...hardly what we expect to start a reflective poem...but how strong an image. Is this what the author first saw and so was drawn to write further? We wonder what will come next.
L2 on the sand...again unexpected...how many work boots have we seen on the sand...usually sandals.
The use of an ellipse is a special touch so we can dwell for moment longer on the one and a half lines then drift to he sips tea. 'sips' again not expected...such a delicate action...he is truly savouring the moment.
from his thermos lid...a concrete detail of information to keep us within the picture and help that build up to L4 and 5
drifts on the endless blue
of a lunch-hour sea
How special is the use of endless blue and lunch-hour sea. When you think of all the descriptions you?ve read of the sea, how fresh this one is, how individual for just this man, at this time.
Max too knows what to include and what to leave out and so we are caught in the mid story of an experience.
In general then, the power of this tanka was for me in its gentle simplicity.
I love the way different forms of art intermingle
Although the images are clear and concrete the poem still has dreaming room.
While reading this tanka I thought of one of my favourite artists ...Vincent van Gogh and his painting of work boots...'A Pair of Shoes' 1886.
Here are two quotes about van Gogh's painting as described by a critic
Symbolic of the hard yet picturesque life of the laborer.
finding beauty in simplicity
In my mind Max Ryan has captured this in words.
Some research.
I knew nothing about Max Ryan and as Eucalypt doesn't have a bio section I had to Google him up.
The fine lyrical quality of this tanka did not surprise me after I'd read about the author.
MAX RYAN
Max Ryan lives on the far north coast of NSW and is a keen member of local haiku group, Cloudcatchers. He is twice winner of the Byron Bay Writers? Festival Poetry Prize. His book of free verse, Rainswayed Night, won the 2005 Anne Elder Award. He also collaborates with musicians including Melbourne duo Kid Sam and north coast violinist, Cleis Pearce. His collaborative CD with Cleis, White Cow, received several music industry awards.
Appraisal by Keitha Keyes
(Given at the 9th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 16th February 2013)
I used to be …
from an immigrant’s mouth
stretches his story —
the pin-drop silence
fills an ESL classroom
(ESL…English as a Second Language)
Chen-ou Liu
GUSTS No. 16
This tanka really spoke to me as it reminded me of when I taught ESL to adults.
I used to be…
This is one of the saddest things you hear immigrants or refugees say. Their identity is often based in the past, left behind in their country of origin. They are sad and confused. Perhaps in their home country they had a profession which is now out of reach because they cannot get formal recognition of their skills or their English is not good enough. And without their job they feel as if they are nobody. Family relationships are also often shattered in the transition.
from an immigrant’s mouth
stretches his story —
Sometimes when students start to share personal details it is like the opening of a flood gate of thoughts and emotions. The use of the verb stretches is very apt here.
The other students listen in silence. There is no need for a teacher to impose silence on the class. They listen out of respect for their classmate. Perhaps they have had a similar experience. The silence is absolute, captured by the poet
the pin-drop silence
fills an ESL classroom
At the end of the tanka we are left in our dreaming room. What was his story? What is his future?
The language in this tanka is simple and concise.
The punctuation when it is used is very effective.
The ellipsis at the end of the first line suggests that the student pauses before he tells his story. It also invites the reader to focus on the student. The em dash at the end of the third line shifts the perspective from the speaker to the rest of the class.
This is a memorable tanka which rings of authenticity.I used to be …
from an immigrant’s mouth
stretches his story —
the pin-drop silence
fills an ESL classroom
Appraisal by Catherine Smith
(Given at the 9th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 16th February 2013)
transformed
by the breath of your love
I am no longer sand
scattered to the wind
but the beauty of blown glass Claire Everett – Twelve Moons
The first word of this poem transformed drew me in immediately. The Australian Oxford Dictionary definition of the word is to make a thorough and dramatic change in the form, outward appearance, character etc. So I knew that something or someone was going to change significantly. A great hook to begin the poem.
Reading the second line, I became aware that this was a love poem and especially liked the use of the word breath. It made me think of breath of life, breath of spring, a breath of fresh air; a beautiful way to describe the love and at the same time continuing to indicate a change and then later in the poem becoming the breath of the glass blower.
I am no longer sand
scattered to the wind
With these few words we learn that this person has previously felt insignificant, disconnected, perhaps at the mercy of a strong force, maybe tossed aside, and a sense of helplessness.
but the beauty of blown glass
This line has so much strength. The main raw material in glass production is quartz sand, tying in with the scattered sand in the third line. Glass is transformed by heat enabling a glass blower to shape a piece. It is a delicate and sensitive operation with quite a few stages and three furnaces all at varying temperatures. Much like the process of love.
The poet uses alliteration which slows the pace and this last line brings the poem and the person to wholeness, completeness, beauty, substance and form.
Whether the words are talking about divine love or human love doesn’t matter, a wonderful transformation has taken place as suggested in the first word and the reader is uplifted.
transformed
by the breath of your love
I am no longer sand
scattered to the wind
but the beauty of blown glass
Catherine Smith 16th February 2013
Appraisal by Jan Dean
(Given at the 10th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th October 2013)
My favourite tanka by someone I haven’t met.
Gently, I open
the door to eternal
mystery, the flowers
of my breasts cupped,
offered with both my hands.
This tanka is from River of Stars: selected poems of Yosano Akiko (1878 – 1942) translated from the Japanese by Sam Hamill and Keiko Matsui Gibson. Yosano wrote more than 75 books including 20 volumes of original poetry. Hers was the definitive translation into modern Japanese of the Tales of the Genji. She was a champion of feminism, pacifism and social reform. Passionate and direct work exposes complexity of everyday emotions in poetic language stripped of artifice, presenting the full breadth of her poetic vision.
I chose the tanka for its layers: Images of light and dark are revealed. The first is of a door open from darkness allowing a rush of light to dazzle. Perhaps a newborn enters the world. The converse is also possible, as when people report near death experiences of being in a tunnel moving towards light. Breasts offered is a generous gesture which suggests nurturing and also openness to what the world may bring.
For me, enjambment at the end of line two gives rise to speculation: No matter how many times I read it, I expect it to say the door to eternal life so the added dimension of spirituality has great appeal.
Stretch the imagination and make unlikely connections. I like to connect this tanka with the best-known of Edward Hopper's paintings, Nighthawks (1942), which was painted the year Yosano Akiko died. The tanka and painting have mystery in common. It is possible to look at the painting especially in black and white form and imagine many narratives from the highlighted figures. The tanka is ambiguous which makes it all the more interesting.
Jan Dean October 2013
Appraisal by Dy Andreasen
(Given at the 10th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th October 2013)
The poem I have chosen is by Claire Everett Published in Blithe Spirit Vol.23 No.1. I have returned to this poem many times since I first read it.
cold water
and chrysanthemum petals
our ‘tea for two’
the cup of a memory
i can barely hold
‘cold water’
In this first line my response when reading it was there was more happening than the water being cold I felt that the atmosphere sounded chilly too.
‘and chrysanthemum petals’
My thought was perhaps it is a vase of chrysanthemum flowers in cold water and the petals have fallen. Chrysanthemum are flowers that bloom in autumn when the weather is cooler, this would tie in with fallen petals and the first line of ‘cold water’.
‘our ‘tea for two’
This line brings more information to the first two lines, we now know the ‘cold water and chrysanthemum petals’ is in fact a cup of tea being shared between two people. This was a ritual between the two, were they friends, family or lovers we are not told.
‘the cup of a memory’
Here she is remembering a time shared over a ‘cup of chrysanthemum tea’ that no longer happens. Perhaps because of a death or a parting of ways.
‘I can barely hold’
This line tells us more about the memory and its affect on her. This is a painful memory this cup of chrysanthemum tea that she is reflecting upon. When you read this line together with the 4th line
‘the cup of a memory’
‘ i can barely hold’
To me it sounded as tho the cup is full of memories, not just one and the weight of these memories is heavy with emotion. She is sad that she no longer has the other person there to share this ritual with. The fifth line ‘I can barely hold’ takes you back to the first line ‘cold water’ maybe she has held this cup of tea for so long whilst reflecting on happier times the water has now become cold.
cold water
and chrysanthemum petals
our ?tea for two?
the cup of a memory
i can barely hold
Presented by Dy Andreasen
Appraisal by David Terelinck
(Given at the 10th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, 19th October 2013)
There are true moments of tanka perfection. Those times when a poet pens a poem that connects so strongly with the reader that it becomes indelibly etched into the reader’s consciousness and soul for all time.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
unexpected
the way you turned away
when I needed you most
Susan Constable
I first read this tanka in Simply Haiku in May of 2011. It has stayed with me from that moment. I have had the joy of being able to recite it by heart ever since.
For me this tanka has it all. As a lover of the classical form, the short-long-short-long-long structure is highly appealing. There are no redundant words or phrases and the entire tanka works in harmony to create a powerful piece of writing.
Specifically it is the choice of words, construction, and powerful imagery and metaphor that make this tanka sing for me. The tanka opens, not just with a bruise, but with a large bruise. This is our first clue to significance of the theme and story behind this poem. Small bruises can be easily covered over; forgotten even. Not so with a large bruise. These are unsightly and are much more difficult to hide or disguise. And large bruises are apt to leave large scars on the psyche, if not also the body.
And where is this bruise? It is not superficial, something we can see when we first admire the fruit or enter the relationship. But it is hidden, deep down out of sight. Beyond the bounds of where we make daily allowances for the smaller trifles, and say that it doesn’t matter.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
It leads us to wonder what else is not perfect with this situation and relationship. What else lies hidden? Is this bruise just the tip of the iceberg . . . is there more beneath the surface that we will not see until it is too late and we capsize?
The third line makes us wonder how this has remained hidden for so long – it is “unexpected” when found. A shock. From the outside this was never envisaged. It looked so ideal, so promising, perhaps even perfect, until the layers were peeled back to reveal this imperfection.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
unexpected
The poet then pivots on the unexpected to fully reveal the human element of this tanka. The large bruise, deeply hidden, is a metaphor for a loved one or close friend who has turned away. More than this, it is someone who was trusted, considered faithful, and who should NOT have turned away . . . under any circumstances.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
unexpected
the way you turned away
This bruise runs very deep for another reason. The betrayal becomes complete when we realise this is the one time that the narrator really, intensely and so completely, needed this person to be there – to support them. The time when they were needed the most. There is now no denying the impact this bruise has when discovered.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
unexpected
the way you turned away
when I needed you most
As shown, this tanka builds, line by line to a powerful ending that carries a strong theme of loss and betrayal. It climaxes to exposes the uncharted human depths of someone we may never really know until we need to call upon them in crisis and then find they are not there. And it raises so many questions about what we should do if someone is not there when we most expect them to be.
This particular tanka by Susan Constable will stay with me for many years to come. It will be one that I return to again and again for sheer enjoyment, for teaching purposes, and for personal inspiration about constructing excellent tanka.
a large bruise
deep inside the mango
unexpected
the way you turned away
when I needed you most
Susan Constable
© David Terelinck, 2013
Appraisal by Jan Foster
(Given at the 11th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop #11 - 23 February 2014)
crunch of gravelFrom the very first word – crunch - the loaded nature of the words chosen comes to the fore, and the full power of the message is built with each additional word. Each successive reading, as with any good tanka, only increases its power.
in the school parking lot
every day
a little more worn down,
a little closer to dust
Bob Luckycrunch of gravelCrunch is a jarring sound, establishing the feeling of grinding pressure that is the message of the poem. It carries the added meaning of the bottom line, the end of a thing, as in crunch-time. The author is in despair of his circumstances, dreading the remorseless monotony of it all, feeling pressurised by his circumstances. With this opening line, the overall sense of harshness is established. Gravel is a hard, unyielding, sharp-edged substance, but even that can be eroded by constant grinding down.crunch of gravelThis is what the author hears each day as he leaves, or even worse, as he arrives, a reflection of his state of mind and soul. It sets the place at a school, but for the reader, whose senses are already engaged, it could be the office, the shopping centre, their own home, such is the universality of this feeling at some time in our lives.
in the school parking lotcrunch of gravelIt is the 3rd line that tells of the unrelenting weariness with it all, the remorseless repetition of circumstances which are grinding him down. It is a perfect hinge between the poem’s first and second halves, where the opening imagery is linked to the poet’s situation.
in the school parking lot
every daycrunch of gravelThe repetition of the words a little speaks of the accumulation of small things that do the damage, the slow erosion of what was once a firm sense of purpose, trickling away, while the last word hints of man’s own end, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The two lines form an underscoring of each other, like the beat of a chorus. If tanka is a song, then this one is the blues or even a dirge.
in the school parking lot
every day
a little more worn down
a little closer to dust
Jan Foster
Appraisal by Carole Harrison
(Given at the 11th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop #11 - 23 February 2014)
I have chosen Carole MacRury's tanka from Eucalypt 15 ....will this beI chose this tanka because I relate to Carole's love of nature, especially birds, and because it relates to what's going on in my life.
you or me one day —
a fifth goose
flapping furiously
behind the other four
Seemingly simple, unpretentious words, flow smoothly. What seems like a reference to geese flying in formation, becomes an analogy for the poet's family or friend unit, opening up to layers of meaning and space for dreaming, for the reader to enter and complete the story for themselves.
It opens with a question, drawing us in, asking us to get involved...
will this beThe universal themes of ageing, family hierarchy, role reversal, co-operation and sharing.
you or me one day —
a fifth goose... maybe the lead goose, head of the family, cannot hold that position forever. Why 5? Maybe five children or friends. Maybe we are all that lead goose, who eventually tires and falls behind..... flapping furiously
These wonderful onomatopoeic, alliterating words, provide a great pivot, a little bit funny, a little bit serious, appealing to the senses.
They are so significant, setting the tone for this tanka, a light hearted, yet deeply meaningful, look at ageing, and change. Nature is always changing, never static. Even so, we don't want to be left behind, so we hang onto our youth, health and family position. Maybe this makes us angry with life.
behind the other fourThe poet draws the poem back into the family unit. Once the head of the family, the leader, now falling behind in the natural scheme of things. Will acceptance come?
Words and lines flow, we are taken deeper, line by line, into themes of 'time and its passage, ageing and change', but it's not all gloomy.
There's a lightness of spirit and I think, acceptance , within these words. Plus, the more I read and fly with the geese, the more layers emerge. Unexpected themes, like communication and teamwork, (Just Google 'geese V formation'), sharing, journeys, etc.
The imagery is light but powerful, poignant but beautiful, simple but evocative in its depth. We will all still be beautiful, one day, just flapping a little faster!
Carole MacRury . . . you would all know her work. She has a deep love of the natural world and acceptance of death. She invites nature into her poetry, working with it to process life events. She's a very experienced, award winning poet. My words about her poem are just -- my words.
Critique by Carole Harrison
Bowerbird Tanka Workshop
23 February, 2014
Appraisal by Kent Robinson
(Given at the 11th Bowerbird Tanka Workshop #11 - 23 February 2014)
kneelingA well written tanka.
for her first holy communion
a crack
across the sole
of the child’s shoe
Belinda Broughton p.6, Eucalypt #15
The lines are written in the standard short/long/short/ long/long syllable tanka form. As I thought about this tanka, more and more possibilities occurred to me.
The Feast of the Assumption of Mary in August is the time of Holy Communion for people taking the third step on the journey of the Catholic Faith.
For a poor family, one pair of shoes will often have to suffice on numerous occasions; school, weddings, funerals, church, Holy Communion.
A new pair of shoes will probably be purchased for the child’s commencement of school in January. An eight year old child may wear that one pair of shoes fairly harshly in eight months, hence ‘the crack across the sole’.
Another possibility in a poor family is the fact that the shoes may be hand-me-downs from an older sibling. Imagine the mix of emotions the young girl must feel, excitement at the arrival of her first Holy Communion, juxtaposed to the disappointment of not being able to wear her own “best” pair of shoes. It is certain any young lady will be aware of the condition of her shoes and attire generally at such a time.
At a tender age this young girl will be aware, to a point, the straights her family is in. Although the love of a family often softens this reality, a paramount event such as this in her young life, will certainly sharpen her awareness of her family’s poverty.
Whilst kneeling, as demands her faith, the crack across the sole of this young girl’s shoe is revealed. Therefore it may be observed, her kneeling reveals the families poverty, yet at the same time demonstrates the importance of the church in their lives.
It is a very clever use of the word sole, referring obviously to the child’s shoe but of course takes on a whole new facet if we look at the word ‘soul’ meaning the spirit. At first glance, we may interpret Belinda as referring to the girl’s soul as being incomplete until Holy Communion might mend that rift.
Another possibility is that this tanka may be interpreted as a slight against the Catholic Church. "a crack”, the third line of the tanka, pertains to the last two lines; ‘across the sole of the child’s shoe’ ,but we may question, is it related to the first two lines, Which read;kneelingperhaps suggests a flaw in the church. ‘kneeling/ for her first Holy Communion /a crack’ mayhap refers to a benevolent institution, being remiss, as it is unable to care for its flock’s worldly needs as well as their spiritual needs.
for her first holy communion
a crack
And what of the comparison of a poverty stricken family’s pride with their faith. A proud mother will surely be embarrassed presenting her child for her first Holy Communion in a pair of shoes with a cracked sole. Notwithstanding, it seems this pales into insignificance against the need to have her little one take the Eucharist for the first time! Due to circumstances the family is unable to change, they are forced to forego a measure of their pride for their faith. This must be extremely emotionally stressful.
Therefore, the child’s family is putting their faith, an intangible, before their pride which pertains to their very tangible day to day life.
I thought it sad when read the first time but realized after some reflection that for this family their faith is paramount and that that faith succours and sustains them!
kneeling
for her first holy communion
a crack
across the sole
of the child’s shoe
A sensitive, thought provoking, cleverly written tanka
Critique by Kent Robinson
Bowerbird Tanka Workshop
23 February, 2014
Appraisal by XXx Xxxx
(Given at the XXX Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, XXth Xxxx 20XX)