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#its not really poetry
persongoing · 2 years
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I want to be held until I can’t imagine being alone anymore.
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junxjuno · 8 months
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it.
i scream
i project all my feelings through my throat
shouting until i no longer can
yet it is still not enough
busying my mind with tasks that have no purpose
get out of my head.
desperately trying to escape my own mind
the steady buzz still continues
you are not wanted
i collapse and allow it to swallow me whole
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qiinamii · 6 months
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quite the poet, quite the inspo
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corvidcall · 2 years
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None Of You Know What Haiku Are
I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.
If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?
Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!
First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.
For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.
In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).
Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?
Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.
(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)
Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.
Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.
Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:
古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音 (Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)
You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.
English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.
Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.
Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)
The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel
We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.
"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:
meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals
When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.
"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?
I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards
a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds
Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)
Further reading:
Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine
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cemeterything · 2 years
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1. you've bitten every hand that has ever reached for you because pain is all you've ever known them to be capable of, and it's a lesson you won't suffer twice
2. they were warned not to stick their fingers through the bars of your cage, but not only did they not listen, they went and opened it up with their clever, gentle hands that not even your sharp teeth and terrible claws could deter from showing you what kindness could feel like, and crossed over the threshold to stand inside/on your side/by your side/all of the above
3. the difference between setting something free and setting something loose is a matter of definition
4. the definition of a monster depends entirely on where you're standing
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haunted-xander · 2 months
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Shadowbringers is about learning how to live.
Your enemy is stasis- everything and everyone is stagnant, they wait and wait for something to happen, but don't do anything to make it so (because the ones who tried before failed, because they don't know what to do/how to do it). People don't change, they don't try, not really. The crystarium is doing well, it's independent and sustainable, but it doesn't have the reach or power to do much outside of Lakeland. The Exarch is more-or-less confined to the city (because of the tower, because he's waiting for you), so even if he had power elsewhere, he'd be limited with how much he, personally, can do.
Eulemore is filled with mindless indulgence, there's no hardships or labour or anything but luxury for the free citizens, and the bonded only have to worry about fulfilling the task(s) they were brought for. The outside world doesn't matter, hard work doesn't matter, personal fulfillment beyond indulgence doesn't matter, everything exist solely in the moment. The people out in Kholusia have pretty much given up, they stay close to the city in the hopes that this time they will be picked, this time they will be saved. They wait and wait and do nothing but wait. The ones who try to live on are dying out or eventually give up and join the rest in waiting.
Ahm Areang, Rak'tika, even Il Mheg are all just waiting for something, anything to happen. They go day to day, surviving simply because it's all they can. Nothing changes.
Until, of course, you should up. You, who causes a ripple of change simply by existing, who can move the immovable by sheer will. You showed them that things can change, that things can, and will happen, if they just try. You show them that they can make things better, that there is an option besides waiting for a slow death, if they'd just grab fate by the neck and tell it "No. We are doing this my way".
And they do. They rally up together and do what they thought impossible. Not all their efforts succeed(not immediately), but they tried. They tried, they failed, and they got up and tried again and again until it did work. They take the chances, not knowing how it'll turn out (because it's not about whether it fails or succeeds, it's about having tried).
They learn how to try, little by little, and every step they learn what it means to really live.
Endwalker is about learning how to love life.
Your enemy is nihilism- the idea that nothing matters, that there is no real joy to be found that isn't snuffed out by misery. A concept that denounces greys in favor of a black-and-white view where black is all encompassing. Everywhere you go, people are doing what they can to survive, but refuses (or maybe are afraid to, or maybe never knew they could) try to actually save themselves. The Forum plans for escape, to leave their homeworld behind and take whatever they can afford. They will live on, but they won't be saved, no one is saved(and even with escape they aren't safe, Despair is everywhere and She will not stop until all has become Nothing).
The Loporrits love Etheirys, but in the way Winter loves Spring. They know about it, they are so close to it, but they are distant. They're strangers, they've never met. It's love, and it's pure and true, but it's also just love. It's surface-level(because the surface is all they had). Their love is pure but it's instinctual. Programmed. They love because they don't know how to not love. They want to save it's people, save us, but they don't know what it really means to save, so they create refuge instead(because that's what She told them to, because this is how love works for them).
The people of Garlemald are terrified, they are victims of extreme indoctrination, the (deserved) push-back their army got proved them "right"(that we are savage beasts to fear, that they are but prey in the maws of rabid dogs). They want to be build-up again, but what's left for them now? The world hates them(and it's all their fault, the ones who see past the propaganda know this, but who will listen to them?) and they are dying. It's so cold and the fuel is running out. They won't accept help, because they've been filled with the idea that there is no such thing as pure kindness from "savages"(and they are too prideful to question it, to break apart from the illusion that they are surperior, because they're terrified to face the truth).
The sky screams, the earth wheeps and the foundation of existence is overtaken by Despair, misery is around every corner and who knows what will happen now? Where do we go? What do we do? We live and live but for what?
What's the point of it all?
That's the question, and the answer is everything. We live because there is joy to be found. Because there is beauty in the world. Because there are stars in the sky. Because flowers bloom in spring. Because cats purr. Because waves crash against the shore. Because of every single little thing we can see, hear or feel. Because we love and are loved. Because there are things to do and discover. Because why not?
And you tell them this, by letting them see that there is more to life than the little they have seen. The Forum has closed it's eyes to anything but it's own kith and kin, everything outside of Old Sharlayan is irrelevant(non-intervention, always non-intervention) and it takes the entire world coming and telling them "We are here. We are alive, and we will make tomorrow happen." for them to realize they have slowly been killing themselves and what they stand for(you pride yourself on knowledge, but where is your wisdom? What do you truly know of things outside your own bubble? You do not know that which is lived because you refuse to aknowledge anything but the written word).
The Loporrits see Etheirys itself, they experience it's corners and valleys and learn what love can really be. They want to save it, truly save it, because they love and this time it's informed, it's personal(I love you, I love you, and I want you to know I love your loves too).
In Garlemald everything is slow, unsteady and complicated, but it's changing. They're changing. With every person who accepts help the illusion of supremacy and "purity" melts away just a bit, and the wall standing between them and us breaks a little(it will never vanish completely, years upon years of oppression and subjugation and conquest don't disappear like that, but it's a start).
Shadobringers is about learning how to live, but Endwalker is about learning how to love life.
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queenychu · 1 month
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Fridge magnet poem I made about gender affirming surgery.
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ghouljams · 2 months
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Professor love is stronger than I because I would take one look at professor ghost and be bent over his damn desk
Professor/Dr. Love (PhD) is honestly stronger than any marine, I would have folded as soon as Ghost told me to sit down. Treat me like a damn student, thank you professor ❤️🧎
She bends over his desk all the damn time and he just ignores her. She tries a shorter skirt and the only thing it gets her is Ghost holding a book behind her so no one (else) stares. She's really starting to think her usual flirting isn't working.
(Ghost is so fucking feral for this woman. He must have worms in his brain the way she's constantly on his mind. It takes everything he has not to fuck her over his desk. She is ruining his life, he's going to make her the mother of his children. She's rabid and he wants her to bite him. He's already picked out their first dance song.)
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rocksalt-and-pie · 2 years
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shout-out to the makers of NBC Hannibal for (clearly) reading all four books about Hannibal Lecter by Thomas Harris and going "hmm. actually we will make the gayest possible version of this" going on to COMPLETELY disregard the other main character and (canon) ?love interest? of the series and never even MENTION Clarice Starling. Like it's so funny to me that she never even appears on the show when book!Will Graham literally fucks off after The Red Dragon and wants nothing to do with any of this anymore and book!Hannibal is obsessed with Clarice in the same way that tv!Hannibal is obsessed with tv!Will. like they really took a whole book franchise, picked out the cherries, and made it their own personal little gay AU. that's so refreshing and should be a leading example in television adaptations. in this essay i will
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prommytheus · 1 year
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alright name poll
rb after you vote or it'll just be me and my 12 mutuals plsss
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persongoing · 2 years
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I hope I get used to feeling loved. I hope I never have to let go again.
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basilpaste · 1 month
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& he forgives you dogs are like that so loyal dead dogs are just happy you're here Let Dead Dogs Lie, Silas Denver Melvin (from Grit)
〔You grit your teeth so hard that they shatter into fangs.〕
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august-writing · 25 days
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"Not I," I said, "I love you."
Yet when blood was on your face I knew you not.
"Would you follow me, my child? Even in the dark?"
But when the light blew dim I fled.
You told me of the future, and of a joy to come 
You loved me and you taught me
"I know your heart, my child."
When you were weak and weary where was I to comfort?
When you cried out for the Father I hid my face.
I saw you. I saw your eyes and anguish.
O how it pierced me. How could I abandon you?
"Not I," I said, "I love you." But how could it be true?
I turned and left my lover.
Weak and twisted is the heart that claimed to live for you
How can it be, how can I live? I wish to love you.
Yet it is a dead heart that saw your face among the crowd.
A light flew across the distance. On the wings of your suffering.
O how it pierced me. My eyes have opened.
I don't deserve to be here, to sing and see the dawn
Lord let me live and love you
How I was meant to all along
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ynomii · 3 months
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EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL ANATOMY OF A LIVING CHRYSALIS
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whenyoulosesmallmind · 4 months
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Nicklas Bäckström & the Washington Capitals (+ nickeovi) ― Immortality, Clare Harner | insp.
credits: x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x. x.
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koszmarnybudyn · 1 month
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Here's a long poem about the teens, and growing up and about a lot of things, its called "You have to kill god"
You and your besties need to kill god, maybe you were always destined to, fate is such a picky woman after all, you didnt ask for it, there should have been better options, maybe there were, older, stronger wiser, but there all useless now. You didn't want to kill god, not untill you were in highschool, not untill you saw the incocent die, not untill you saw the ones in power as corrupt, your kindegarden teacher smiled so wide as those kids grew up much faster than they should, oh so wide, you did too you think, the clothes from a few weeks ago dont fit anymore, the photos on the walls feel fake, you shouldnt look so young, it doesnt feel like you, but it is, youve changed, it hurts, and isnt that the thing that comes for us all, after all youve seen death, you know heaven and you know hell and you know they are both shells of what they told you, both run by incompetent assholes, so you have to kill god, there is no debate. The mayor died, i guess nurture failed after all, youve been destined to be what you are, and what you are is nothing, the blood you have has always dragged you here, the first hands to hold you were the ones to burn those marks into your soul, do you have a soul? You share one, so you must, but maybe you dont maybe you are as hollow as you feel, he didn't, do you even remember him? You never did. hes back, he is going to die, he said he loved you, you dont think he lied, but youve been wrong about many things. You know this one, you have to kill god, he never hugged you enough, he wasnt there enough, will you be the same? Will your hands also hurt more than they create, will the act of creation be something worse than that of destroying. Will your children ever forgive you, will you love them enough? You were never enough, they never liked you, you now know there is a diffrence. It hurts, it always hurts. You have to kill god, they were suppose to do it, they failed, they always fail, dont you always fail as well? You tried so so hard, you studied, you learned you listened, it wasnt enough, its stupid, its like soooo stupid, you shouldnt care, youre cool like that, you still care. You always cared, more than you should have. You have to kill god, hes stupid, he tried to be like you, well he pretended to be, you belived him, you freed him, he lied. They voted for him, he was beloved, your mom loves him, your dad loves him, you never got the hype, maybe you tried it, they spoke so highly of him, in his nice suit and with his firm handshake, with his perfect smile, he nearly got you and your friends arrested, he nearly got you killed, he made the public hate you, you were never safe, were you ever safe? Is anyone ever safe? You dont know, you wish you did, you wish for so many things. That's youth isnt it, being foolish and dumb and trusting people you shouldnt, maybe all adults suck, maybe they all want to see you fail so they can scream about your generation as you crawl up clifs they made by destroying bridges their parents built. Maybe all life is a battle, you were too young to know anything else, they were always fighting, they didnt rest they sacrificed everything, you should be greatful why arent you greatful!! You are so disrespectful!!
...Why dont we talk anymore? You used to be so small, and life was simple, and now with the strechmarks and the too short tshirts came the difficult, there came the power the independance, the knowledge, but you still know nothing, how can you be so dumb. You used to be soooo smart, maybe the world got dumber, the adults seem to, they dont get it, you have to kill god and then theres homework and the extracuricullums and well you gotta sleep sometime so no sorry can't hang out schedules pretty tight sorry guys maybe next month. You know they didnt require seatbellts in cars once? The world got safer, simpler, so why arent you? Why are you still fighting, you should be at the club, sonics maybe, sneaking alcohol into parties, trying vaping, dancing to shitty pop songs, but you arent, you maybe never will, will you even go back to highschool, its probablly ash now, rubble maybe, youve been absent for months, dad talkes about going to sleepovers, the one you did ended in a double kiddnapping. You dont know what youll do in the future, will you have a future? After you kill god maybe, youll go to school, collage, get a job act like everythings normal, carry on, smile, act like the scars you have are from fireworks or dumb accidents, not enemies and spells. You have to kill god, you dont know how, youll have to figure it out, yoy always do, they never gave instuctions for this stuff. You have to kill god, and maybe its not alright, and maybe it never will, but you are trying and you are here with your besties so maybe you can do it, this once.
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