A Poem-a-Day

(I wrote this introduction for a series of 'zines of short poems selected from my poem-a-day writing practice. I post these poems on FaceBook and Instagram)

I love to write. Just write. I do enjoy getting published as well. But that's different from writing. I have many writing practices one of which is writing a poem a day. I have practiced this on and off  going back 30 or more years. While i try and write good poems I have no illusion that I am producing great poetry. If the poems please me then I am content. Which, perhaps, makes me entirely too complacent, if not lazy. But we'll see.

A few years ago I decided to try a poem-a-day with each day (save Saturday) devoted to a different short form. Thus Sunday = haiku; Monday=gathas; Tuesday=senryu; Wednesday=rubaiyat (rhyming quatrains); Thursday=tankas; Friday=cherita.

I have found over the years that, while poetry in general is, for me, a contemplative activity, the various short forms of which I am fond are excellent for practicing mindfulness. There is so much to notice in the world - beauty and suffering  - all of it. As Rilke writes in his Book of Hours: “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. / Just keep going. No feeling is final.”

Thus am I sharing some of the product of my daily poetry practice. I am, at least for now, excluding my Rubaiyat cause I suck at rhyming and, more significantly, it is a form for which I still lack adequate understanding. 

Haiku

Perhaps the best known short form poem in the world, haiku is generally described as three lines of five, then seven, then five syllables. This approximates in English the Japanese practice of seventeen on  which are similar to English syllables. Many modern haiku don’t conform to seventeen syllables but rather seek to express an observation of nature in as few words as possible. I tend to stick to the 5/7/5 but occasionally try something different. Traditional haiku include a kigo or seasonal word. I also challenge myself to avoid using metaphor as this forces me to pay closer (deeper?) attention to what I am observing. But metaphor is fun so it happens often enough despite my attempts to avoid it. A haiku is a nature poem but the 5/7/5 structure lends itself to composing poems about just anything. There is another form, senryu, which uses the haiku form but which is focussed on something else. See my description which follows. I like to stick to haiku being about nature.

Bees collect pollen

in savoury sun-warmed air

Scent of russian sage

Gatha

When i search for a library book and find it has 95 holds

I vow with all beings

to celebrate the printed word

shared and shared again

I learned about Gathas from Zen Buddhist Robert Aitken’s book The Dragon Who Never Sleeps (Parallax Press, 1992) which I picked up at the Green Gulch Zen Center when visiting there in 1994. Gathas are simple four line poems that are vows for daily living.  Aitken describes The Dhammapada (a collection of Buddha's teachings that I read 40 years ago) as being composed of gathas, but I've always found these rather stuffy. Aitken also points to the Avatamsaka Sutra (my favourite Buddhist teaching) chapter Purifying Practice which is made up of 139 gatha vows. But they've always struck me as a tad lofty and endlessly serious. Even Thich Nhat Hanh's collections of gathas (Present Moment, Wonderful Moment), though lovely, lack humour.  Aitken’s gathas are a wonderful combination of quotidian focus, wry humour, poignant observation. And I quite like the beat of the second line (I vow with all beings) which Aitken adopted from the Purifying Practice chapter of the Avatamsaka Sutra.

Senryu

School bag dropped quickly
he runs to the baseball field
leaping into play

Senryu use the form of the haiku but, while haiku focus on nature, senryu focus on culture. They tend to the satirical and focus on daily  social, political, and economic life.  I like how playful senryu can be. English author R.H. Blyth in his lovely book Senryu: Japanese Satirical Verse (The Hokuseido Press, 1949) describes senryu as being satirical without being cruel. In the preface to that book, Blyth notes that in one of his Japanese books about senryu someone has pencilled the comment: "Senryu are not to be read twice, however good they may be." But, while Blyth  then defends senryu as deserving more attention than this comment suggests, it did make me immediately think of New Yorker Magazine cartoons and Gary Larson's The Far Side. It had never occurred to me to think of these cartoons (and many others besides) as a form of poetry. But they are certainly senryu-like and I am rethinking my take on these.

Tanka

Flowers hug themselves
Patient for the light and warmth
Of bright vernal days
Each year the earth remembers
Unforgetting seeds and bulbs

I know less about the history of tanka but learned it is a five line poem of 31 syllables (or on as with haiku). There are two sections to a tanka, the upper phrase of three lines (which like haiku use the 5 /7 / 5 syllable pattern), and a lower phrase of two lines of 7 syllables each. Originating in eighth to tenth Century Japan, tanka (then known as waka) were  used for intimate communication between lovers or people who were courting.  Thus the tanka was a kind of love poem (perhaps similar to the Elizabethan sonnet). I thought that this form might be interesting to use as a means of writing love poems to the earth.

Cherita

Pomegranate seeds swallowed

and the gift of seasons
was born

Each folding
unfolding into each
other endlessly

The cherita is one of the newest forms of poetry I have come across. And I loved it instantly. It is a six line poem in three stanzas, the first of which is one line, the second, two lines, and the third, three lines. It's a form that was created on June 22, 1997 by UK poet and artist ai li. She named this form in memory of her grandparents who were wonderful storytellers. Cherita is the Malay word for “story” or “tale”.” And a cherita tells a story. It very quickly became my favourite short poetry form. I love its focus on narrative and I realized that unlike haiku and senryu which tend to 'take a snapshot,' the cherita invites paying attention to the sequence of action. I've found it's a wonderful form for synthesizing short (very, very short) versions of many tales I love to tell. When limited to only six lines one has to make some pretty hard decisions about what to leave in and leave out.

Justice?

One day Otter, in tears, came to King Solomon: "My King, I have come for justice. This morning I asked Weasel to take care of my children while I went to the water to find food. When I returned, Weasel had killed my children." Solomon summoned Weasel and asked if what Otter had said was true." Weasel hung her head and said, "Yes, it is true. But I am not to blame for I was only responding to Woodpecker's striking of the War Drum and trampled Otter's children in my haste." Solomon summoned Woodpecker and asked if what Weasel had said was true. "Indeed, it is true that I signalled the call to war. But I did this as was expected of me when I witnessed Scorpion sharpening his dagger." Solomon summoned Scorpion and asked if what Woodpecker had said was true. "I admit that it is so," said Scorpion. "But I did this only upon seeing Tortoise don his armour."  Tortoise, when summoned said, "yes, but I acted only when I saw Crab draw his swords." Crab, in turn, said, "I acted only upon seeing Lobster draw his javelin." Lobster then said, "what choice had I when I saw Otter coming to eat my children?" Solomon turned to Otter and said, "Neither Weasel nor any others are guilty. You, Otter, are responsible for your children's death. Who sows death, reaps death."

A Sufi, a Catholic, a Hindu, and a Jew walk into a bar….

(with thanks to Bob Kanegis for the title to this blog post. Check out his blog here: https://storytellerscampfire.wordpress.com/)

Hazrat Inayat Khan tells a story of Moses who invited the Lord God of Israel to break bread with him. Moses’ God answered that he would indeed come. Moses prepared a great feast and, while waiting for his guest, a poor man walked by and begged for food saying, “I have not eaten in three days. Please might I have a slice of bread.” Moses looked past the beggar to see if his God was coming and said, “If you can wait but a little while, I am expecting a guest and when he has come and gone I will give you all that is left over which will be far more than a mere slice of bread.” The poor man left, time passed, God did not arrive. The next day, bitterly disappointed, Moses went to Sinai to pray. “My Lord, how have I sinned that you would promise to visit and yet not come?” God responded, “Moses, We came but you did not recognize Us. For who do you think was the beggar at your door?”

---

I've come across this type of tale many times and feel it most fitting in this pandemic era of isolation from each other and all that we bear to maintain our wellbeing. This story is extremely similar to a lovely tale i think i recall from Nathan Ausubel's Treasury of Jewish Folklore in which a Talmudic student, determined to stay focused on his studies, shoos away a beggar only to learn that it was none other than Elijah. And the entire tradition of Elijah stories is one that exists as reminder of the hidden presence of the divine. Not to mention the stories of the lamedvovniks, the hidden saints, who commit acts of anonymous generosity and thus sustain all of creation.

One of the joys of storytelling is the discovery of similarities across cultures and time of wisdom and ethics and humour. But, as I learned from scholar Wendy Doniger, as interesting as are the similarities, it's really the differences that are the most interesting. Which, in this time of exrtremist right-wing white supremacist populism, is something we need to remember more than ever.

When I re-read Hazrat Inayat Khan's story I was reminded again of a catholic joke I grew up with as well as a Bengali tale I found in the wonderful collection Folktales of India by A.K. Ramanujan (Pantheon, 1991):

---

Once there was a flood in which a faithful man was trapped in his house. He went to the second storey where he looked out the window and saw a canoe approach. “Get in, get in,” the canoeists said. “We’ll save you.” But the man waved them away, saying, “I put my faith in the Lord. He will not let me come to harm.” The canoe paddled away. The floodwaters rose and the man had to flee to the third floor. He looked out the window and saw a motorboat approach. “We’ve come to rescue you,” the boaters said. But the man waved them away, saying, “I put my faith in the Lord. He will not let me come to harm.” The boaters left and the floodwaters rose faster. The man climbed onto the roof of his house when along came a helicopter that lowered a ladder. But the man waved them away yelling, “My faith is in the Lord. He will not let me come to harm.” The waters rose and the man drowned. In heaven he demanded an audience with the Lord. Standing before the Lord he asked, “Why did you let me die? My faith was strong and yet you let me die.”

“I don’t understand it,” said the Lord. “I sent you two boats and a helicopter.”

---

Once there was a guru giving a lecture to his disciples about God. His teaching on this day was about the presence of the divine in everything. “God is in the trees, the stones, the river, the animals and in you,” he said. One disciple was very moved by this lecture and was pondering the teaching as he walked towards a nearby village. On the edge of the village he looked up to see a commotion down the street. Soon he saw that it was an elephant that had gotten out of control and was smashing its way down the street. The driver was madly flailing as he struggled to keep his balance on the elephant’s back. The disciple could see the damage the elephant was causing, people almost trampled, carts overturned, shop fronts reduced to rubble. But the disciple thought of the new teaching he had just received. And he considered that if God was in everything then God must be in that elephant as well as within himself. He resolved to stand in the elephant’s way and practice his new learning believing that his awareness of the presence of God would protect him and the elephant. He stood his ground as the elephant galloped towards him. The elephant was suddenly right in front of the disciple. The elephant wrapped his trunk around the disciple, picked him up and smashed him against one wall and then another. It dragged him in the street and left him bloodied and bruised in the dust. A short while later the guru came by and was startled to see his disciple injured in the street. “What has happened?” he asked. The disciple explained: “Master, I was reflecting on your teaching this morning when I saw the mad elephant. I resolved to deepen my belief in the presence of God in everything, including in the elephant. I believed that God would protect me.” “I see,” said the guru. “It is indeed true that God was in the elephant. But God was also in the driver of the elephant who was yelling at you to get out of the way.”

---

Image Source: Fusine in Valromana, Italy - Photo by Federico Bottos on Unsplash

The Mirror

Once upon a time a young farmer was going to travel to the big city to buy some supplies. His father reminded him of the supplies they needed. His mother told him not to forget to be careful and watch out for thieves and avoid the taverns. His wife asked him to buy her a comb but, knowing her husband had to remember many things, pointed to the crescent moon and told him that looking at the moon in the sky would remind him of the comb she wanted. The farmer spent several days in the city to gather the supplies he needed and, finally ready to return home, found that he forgotten what his wife had asked for. Then he remembered to look at the moon which, by this time, was full and round, and he remembered that his wife had asked for something the shape of the moon. Entering the nearest shop he asked the shopkeeper for something round like the moon. The shopkeeper offered the farmer a mirror saying, “just as you requested, as round as the moon.” The farmer, never having seen a mirror, was very impressed and was certain that it would please his wife. When he presented his wife with the mirror she was disappointed that it was not the comb she had asked for. But, worse than that, when she looked into the mirror, she saw the face of a pretty young woman. She was shocked and outraged that her husband had returned from the city with another woman and she ran to her mother-in-law saying, your son has brought home a young woman from the city!” The mother-in-law looked into the mirror and said, “you are mistaken, it is not a young woman he has brought back but an old woman. What is he thinking bringing that old crone here?” The wife said, “she is no crone. She’s young and pretty.” The mother-in-law protested and put the mirror on the table while she and her daughter-in-law argued. The farmer’s son came into the kitchen and grabbed a rice cake to snack on and, seeing the mirror on the table, saw a young boy eating the very same rice cake. He shouted at the boy, “hey, don’t eat my rice cake! Give it back.” But the boy looked angry, kept the rice cake and seemed to be yelling back at the boy. The boy’s grandfather came into the room to see why his grandson was upset. His grandson cried, “grandfather, there’s a boy there who is stealing my rice cake.” The grandfather picked up the mirror and, seeing an old man staring back, was shocked to see that it was his own father returned from the grave.” He put the mirror down and bowed to the spirit of his father and asked forgiveness for his rudeness. The farmer entered the house to find his entire family crying and upset. “What has happened here?” he shouted. Everyone spoke at once. “Why have you brought home a young woman?” his mother shouted, “how dare you waste your money on that old hag!” His father looked stricken as he bowed low on the floor and his son was crying with a rice cake in his hand. His wife grabbed his hand and, holding the mirror in her other hand, dragged him to the local magistrate with the entire family following. The wife placed the mirror down in front of the magistrate and began to explain what had happened. The magsitrate picked up the mirror and was shocked to see a new government official in the robes of office and said, “finally, my replacement has shown up and I can leave this town.” He called to his servant to begin packing. Everyone reached for the mirror at once and it was knocked off the magistrate’s desk and smashed into a thousand pieces. Everyone was puzzled as to what had become of the person they had seen. “Good riddance,” said the wife.

The Happy Man's Shirt

Once there was a king who fell ill with an ailment that confounded his doctors. Wise men and women, healers of all kinds were consulted and none could help. Finally, one of the king’s advisors suggested sending for the old woman who lived in the forest and who many believed to be a witch. Still, many people sought her out for her teas and herbs when in need. The old woman was brought before the king and after speaking with him and examining him as best she could, said that the only thing that would cure him would be to wear the shirt of a truly happy man. The king sent for a priest and asked him if he was truly happy. “Why, yes, I am,” said the priest. “Very well,” said the king. What if I were to make you my bishop?” “That would make me very happy,” said the priest. And the king sent the priest away, for the priest could not have been truly happy if still he desired to be something more. The king sent his advisers to visit the king of a neighbouring kingdom who, he had heard, was a happy king, indeed. But the advisers learned that though the neighbouring king was prosperous, his kingdom peaceful, and his family abundant, well-loved and healthy, the king was not particularly happy. This king admitted that, despite all, he was not happy for he couldn’t sleep at night for fear of losing all that he had. The advisers returned home in failure. Finally the king, with his men, went out riding one day through the countryside. Stopping by a pond to refresh himself and the horses, the king heard singing coming from the far side of the pond. He left his men and the horses and followed the sound of the singing. It was the most beautiful singing he had ever heard and the joy in the voice and music made the king think that here must be a truly happy man. The king found the singer, clad in a green jacket, gathering kindling in the woods. He approached the man and asked if he would like to return to the castle and live there in luxury as one of the king’s advisers. “I would not change places with the Pope, your majesty. I am happy in my life right here,” said the man. The king was overjoyed and asked if he could have the man’s shirt. The man smiled, and unbuttoned his jacket. The king saw that the happy man wore no shirt. 

The Ugly Bridegroom

 Once upon a time in a land where marriages were typically arranged and it was not uncommon for the betrothed to meet only on their wedding day, there was a young woman who was the pride of her village. She was much beloved and respected for her kindness, intelligence and beauty. So when she learned that her betrothed was not only intelligent but also considered the wisest person of his village, she, her family, and her community were all quite excited. As the bridegroom’s party arrived in the bride’s village for the ceremony, excitement rose. Everyone, and especially the bride, was excited to meet this young man about whom they had heard so much. The groom entered the wedding hall and a gasp of shock went around the room. The wedding guests were shocked to see that the groom was twisted and deformed – his back was hunched over and there was a great lump on it and one of his legs was twisted in a most unnatural way. Before anyone could say anything, the groom held up his hand and said, “Yes, I know my appearance is shocking and for this I beg your patience. I have only one request: that I be allowed to speak with the bride privately for a few moments. After that, I will abide whatever decision she makes without complaint.” Though strange, this nonetheless seemed a reasonable enough request and many of the assembled hoped that, indeed, the groom would be headed back to his village before long. The bride and groom went to one end of the hall where they sat facing each other ata  respectful distance and spoke quietly for some minutes. No one could hear what was said. They could see that the bride looked away often from the sight that was before her. After some time, they stood and approached the assembled.

The bride announced that the wedding would proceed. Everyone was shocked and puzzled, but they could see that the bride was at peace and even joyful. It was a lovely wedding. But the guests were never to know for sure what the groom had said to the bride. 

If they could have heard what was said they would have heard the groom tell a story: “I have studied since I could read: Torah, Talmud, Midrash and more. I have learned that before we are born, the angels bring together the two souls that are to be married in life. These betrothed are allowed to meet briefly. The angels touch us on our lip just under our nose causing us to forget all that we knew, for we are not permitted to be born with this knowledge. The angel’s touch leaves the small depression under our nose – something that we all bear. Once there were two souls that were brought together this way. The groom was most excited. But he was saddened to see that his betrothed was deformed with a great hump on her back and her limbs and neck twisted askew. He turned immediately to the angels and asked if it was possible to take this curse from her and give it to him. The angels agreed and it was so. They touched the lip of the woman, who now stood straight and free of all the deformities she had had a moment before and she forgot. But when they turned to the man, now bent and twisted, they turned away in sadness and horror. They forgot to touch me on the lip. And so I was was born with the knowledge of this meeting.” The bride looked at the groom and she could see that the place under his nose, where everyone had a mark, was smooth. The groom said, “you were the soul that I met before we were born. I remember. And I would take these burdens on again and again for you. But there is no need to carry on with the wedding. I will abide by whatever you decide.”

The Palace of Bird Beaks

When the Queen of Sheba came to Solomon’s kingdom she brought gifts and riddles. She tested Solomon’s wisdom with her riddles and was pleased. Solomon was pleased with the gifts of the queen and told her that she could ask for anything she pleased. “Build me a palace of bird beaks,” asked the Queen. “It will be done,” said the king. And Solomon, who knew the language of all the animals, sent forth a command that all birds come to his palace and prepare to give their beaks to this great task. The birds flocked to the palace, the eagle, the hummingbird, the wren, and the mockingbird. All the birds of the world filled the sky and then settled slowly looking at Solomon. The king seemed pleased. But as he looked over the mass of birds he frowned and then said, “where is the hoopoe?” The birds looked about and one small bird said that he had seen the hoopoe flying away. Solomon was displeased and ordered that the hoopoe be brought to him that it might be punished. When the hoopoe finally arrived, Solomon spoke angrily: “Where have you been? Why did you not respond to my command immediately?” 

“My king, please do not be angry with me. When I learned of your command, I flew over the world to see what marvels there were. I flew over oceans and deserts, forests and fields and gardens, homes and farms and cities. I have seen the earth teeming with life. And I have learned much. Now I know that you like riddles and that your Queen, who has asked for a palace made of bird beaks, is a master of riddles. Would you grant me asking you three riddles? And should you be unable to answer even one, might you spare my life?” The hoopoe looked past Solomon to see the queen standing and listening.

The birds gasped to hear the hoopoe dare to bargain with the king. But Solomon admired the hoopoe’s boldness and said, “ask your riddles.”

The hoopoe said loudly for all to hear, “Who is it, my king, who was never born and never will die?”

Solomon smiled and said instantly, “ Why the Lord of all creation, blessed be he.” And then Solomon remembered quietly that it was the Lord that had created all creatures to be free and who had also given him the power to speak the language of all animals. Aloud Solomon asked, “What is your second riddle?”

The hoopoe took a breath and asked, “What water is it that does not rise from the ground nor fall from the sky?”

Solomon looked over the assembled multitude to see each and every one listening with fearful anticipation. A strange feeling came over him and he said, “A tear. It does not rise from the ground nor fall from the sky but from an eye overcome with sadness.” And Solomon could see much sadness in front of him as the birds awaited the sacrifice of their beaks. A tear from Solomon’s eye splashed on his hand. “Ask your third riddle, Hoopoe.”

The small bird trembled and said, “What is it that is gentle enough to feed a child but strong enough to pierce the hardest wood?”

Solomon, looking out over the multitude of birds, said quietly, “A bird’s beak, of course.”

Many birds dropped their heads. And the hoopoe bowed its head and said, “You have answered all three of my riddles. Punish me as you see fit. I am at your mercy.”

When nothing happened, the hoopoe looked up to see Solomon smiling. “Dear hoopoe, my wisdom is known throughout the world and yet you have shown me that even one as wise as I can yet be foolish. There will be no palace of bird beaks. Rather…” said Solomon as he summoned his advisers and charged them with fashioning a crown like his own for the hoopoe. To this day the hoopoe bears this gift as a reminder of his courage and wisdom that saved the birds.

The hoopoe bowed to the king. He then bowed to the queen who bowed in return and smiled.

What A Moral Stance Looks Like

 

A.J. Muste was a labour activist and pacifist whose advocacy of non-violence as a tactic of change was unusual, to say the least, in the USA of the 1930s and 40s. Noam Chomsky, of whom I was a devoted reader when I was a young adult and who I have continued to read and respect my entire life, in the first of his books I read, American Power and the New Mandarins, quoted a speech by Muste that has stuck with me over the years: “In a world built on violence, one must be a revolutionary before one can be a pacifist." It was only a few years later I found myself working in the Nicaraguan Revolution and having to confront, on a daily basis, my understandings and practices of revolution and peace. Chomsky wrote that “Muste believed, with Gandhi, that "unjust laws and practices survive because men obey them and conform to them. This they do out of fear. There are things they dread more than the continuance of the evil.”” Given all that has happened in the US in the past four years, these words seem more relevant than ever. I’ve heard it said that during the Vietnam War, Muste stood vigil in front of the White House, candle in hand, often alone and sometimes with others. I came across this account by Andrea Ayvazian of The Sun Magazine and, while perhaps apocryphal, like so many good stories, it carries a truth regardless: “A reporter interviewed [A.J. Muste] one evening as he stood there in the rain. "Mr. Muste," the reporter said, "do you really think you are going to change the policies of this country by standing out here alone at night with a candle?" A.J. responded, "Oh, I don't do this to change the country. I do this so the country won't change me.””

Photo from Mural on the War Resisters League building.  Source.

Akbar and the Meaning of Prayer

Once, long ago, Akbar, ruler of the Mughal Empire, was out hunting when it came time for midday prayer. Akbar dismounted and, laying out his prayer mat, knelt down. As he prayed, a woman anxiously searching for her missing husband came running and, failing to notice the kneeling Emperor, tripped over him. With neither a backward glance nor apology, she scrambled to her feet and dashed away, carrying on her search. Akbar, while annoyed by the interruption, remained silent, observing the rule of speaking to no one during the namaz. As Akbar finished his praying, the woman, having found her husband, returned only to be startled to see the Emperor. Trembling with fear, she immediately bowed and made her husband do the same. Akbar looked sternly at the woman saying, “you rudely interrupted my praying. Explain yourself or be punished!” The woman stood up and, still trembling with fear, faced the Emperor and said, “I was in such a panic searching for my husband that I did not notice that you were in this clearing. I barely noticed falling and getting up again. But, if i may ask your majesty a question: how is it that, in your namaz, absorbed in the One who is infinitely more precious than my husband, that you noticed me?” The Emperor fell silent. Later Akbar summoned his chief adviser and said, “Today I met a woman who was neither a scholar nor a Mullah, but who nonetheless taught me the true meaning of prayer.”