Taken in Xian in 2008
DAILY PHOTO: Terracotta Figures, Xian
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Author Archives: B Gourley
A Few Senryu [Day 13 NaPoMo: Senryu]
[Senryu is a Japanese style of poetry that’s identical to haiku in form, but different in content. While haiku rely on images (usually natural and often seasonal) and the juxtaposition of such images — devoid of analysis, commentary, or judgement — Senryu poetry explores human nature. In other words, while humans appear rarely in traditional haiku (and, when they do, it’s as a part of nature;) Senryu are always about humans and they do present commentary — often intended to be humorous.]
two dodge bird poop
the missed credits himself,
the struck curses birds
when floors must be swept,
some needn’t be told, some must,
and some told they can’t
extroverts
having virtual parties,
while I read
Blake said,
“The cut worm forgives the plow.”
What of the plowman?
boredom exempt:
creatures who use their teeth, feet,
or their brains
the hungry snake
doesn’t begrudge the winning
chameleon
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POEM: I’ve Seen Sunsets [Day 12 NaPoMo: Rondeau]
[A rondeau is a closed poetic form of French origin. It uses tetrameter, a half-line refrain, and rhyme schemes of aab and aabba. The first poem I ever learned by rote, “In Flanders Fields,” is among the best known English-language examples of this type of poem.]
I’ve seen sunsets in colors bright.
I climbed Phnom Bakheng for the height
to peer above the canopy.
Fire orbs dip to Andaman Sea,
and I crossed isles to beat twilight.
Hues: royal purple to blazing fire light
I’ve watched Midwestern skies fade to night
from a tower above the trees.
I’ve seen sunsets.
Seven ridges of varied might,
were stacked from tree- to snowcapped-height,
and a different scene for each degree —
as painted clouds flared windward to lee,
and I watched from an idyll campsite
I’ve seen sunsets.
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DAILY PHOTO: Coastal Flowers, Varkala
POEM: Train of Sleep [Day 11 NaPoMo: Free Verse]
waking in a train car
at the rail yard
slouched in the darkness —
but not pure darkness
because the lights are always on at the railyard
and the pale light shines in at strange angles
slapping the window makes your palm hurt,
bruising the bone of your thumb,
but gets you no closer to being free
trying to wedge your fingers between
the rubber ends of the sliding door panels
proves useless
the door doesn’t give way — weakly —
as it does when a running rider
slips a hand in at the last second during rush hour
nothing to do but to try to go back to sleep
but your mind races with what you’ll say
how it’s “a funny story”
or
indignantly, “isn’t someone supposed to check each car?”
of course, they are, and they did,
but the driver, eager to get home,
just peeked through window into that last car
and didn’t see the person huddled
in the backward-facing first row of that last car
mind-racing, and butt feeling the hard seats
you can’t fall asleep,
and you wonder how you ever did
but, eventually, you do
you wake in the train car
still at the railyard
but without the darkness
because a bright light shines in your face
as someone says,
“What are you doing here?”
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DAILY PHOTO: Memento Park Lenin
Taken in the summer of 2002 near Budapest.
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Rainy Day Tanka [Day 10 of NaPoMo: Tanka]
[A tanka is a Japanese form closely related to the shorter form, haiku. In fact, a haiku can be thought of as the upper phrase of a potential tanka. Traditionally, the tanka (a.k.a. waka) is a 31-syllable poem. In modern notation, the additional 14 syllables are put into two seven-syllable lines below the three haiku lines, i.e. 5 – 7 – 5. (That said, there are many — myself included — who feel that the 5 – 7 – 5 – 7 – 7 approach applied to English language poetry loses the sparse, Zen feel of Japanese poetry because English syllables can be — and frequently are of — much longer duration. Personally, I’m more partial to the 2 – 3 – 2 stressed beats approach.) Historically, a haiku presents an image devoid of analysis or commentary. In Tanka, there is a pivot and the lower phrase often presents a response to the image.]
dry season
afternoon downpours
come daily
like one bird nesting
in another’s nest
soggy forest
oppressed smoke hangs low
unseen, but smelt
bone dry wood exists
but only within flame
drippy garden
a bright orange flower
hangs its head high
you warm my mind,
if not my bones
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DAILY PHOTO: South Shore Farmland, Kyrgyzstan
Taken near Bokonbayevo on the south shore of Issyk-Kul in the summer of 2019.
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Cloud Ruba’iyat [Day 9 NaPoMo: Ruba’i]
[Ruba’i is a Persian form of poetry written in four lines, i.e. one quatrain. A ruba’iyat is a collection of such poems. [These quatrains aren’t necessarily thematically or narratively connected.] The most famous such collection in English translation is Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam. In English language ruba’i, the most popular rhyme scheme is A-A-B-A, but A-A-A-A is also popular — not to mention dispensing with rhyme altogether.]
1.)
clouds drift, unrushed, across skies of blue
tranquil spies that follow stuck like glue
no gains or losses are made in this game
for “heed the wind” is the only rule
2.)
to hide a mountain takes a special cloud
the mountain may lack color, but it’s proud
its steely, silvery gray stands manly
so neither white nor grime will enshroud
3.)
still cloud, I find troubling your lack of speed
it’s like you’ve stopped to draw a bead on me
those untethered should take a roaming spree
hasn’t anyone told you that you’re free?
4.)
wispy crystalline cloud high above
your shape won’t be discussed by those in love
’cause no one’s lying back this frigid day
wearing fur-lined coats, and hats, and gloves
