Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

With a Deepening Presence Book Launch Party, Saturday, July 16th, & The Trouble with Poets, a Film by Tom Weber, Friday, July 15th


This Saturday, July 16th, at the Irma Freeman Center for Imagination, from 7:30 to 9:30, is the launch of With a Deepening Presence. Books will be available for purchase and signing. Presence will be sold at the special reading price of $8.

Reading will be Kristofer CollinsChristine Starkey, Che EliasScott Pyle, Rosaly Roffman, Bart Solarczyk, Bob Ziller and myself. Food and drinks (water, beer) will be provided. 

If you can't make it (or even if can), I'll be reading the night before at the screening of Tom Weber's film, The Trouble with Poets, at Pittsburgh Filmakers (477 Melwood Avenue, Pittsburgh), from 6:30 to 9:30 pm.

The Filmmakers reading will be a general overview of my work. The launch reading will focus on the new book and a raft of all new poems never performed before. So, two nights, two very different readings.

Hope to see you at one or the other, or both.




yanking a radish
taking a tumble ...
little boy

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue

best,
Don

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Patrick Sweeney & Chen-ou Liu: Wednesday Haiku, #228




Chess between adepts
persimmons on
a leafless tree

Patrick Sweeney


Photo by Brendan Adkins



the whiteness
of a cold moon ...
you, slanted eyes

Chen-ou Liu



Photo by Joe Stump



in cherry blossom shade
there are even those
who hate this world

Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don
PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku  

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Sondra J. Bynes & Kalyana Hapsari: Wednesday Haiku, #225

Photo by Philip Chapman-Bell



he didn't leave a message--watching cottonwood fluff fall up
                                   Sondra J. Byrnes


Photo by Laura Lewis



candle light dinner 
lipstick on her wine glass 
glistens 
      Kalyana Hapsari


Photo by Kristy Hom


cotton fluff scatters--
little thicket, little shrine
little ditch
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku  

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Ramesh Anand & Elmedin Kadric: Wednesday Haiku, #222

 

glow of light
from the hilltop hut –
shooting star

Ramesh Anand


 Photo by Martin Burns

rain song
the busker
sings along

Elmedin Kadric


Orpheus Pines by Heather Wizell



wafting through trees
a beggar's flute
a nightingale's song

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue


Photo by Dave Hamster



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku
 

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Helen Buckingham & Laszlo Slomovits: Wednesday Haiku, #221

GIF image courtesy of NASA


Geminid night--          
another good one
dies

Helen Buckingham


Mephistoles from Gounod's Faust



opera —
even the bad guys
sing in tune

Laszlo Slomovits


Devil Priest by Matahei



a long night--
the devil in me
torments me

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku  

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Alexis Rotella & Kanchan Chatterjee: Wednesday Haiku, #220

Photo by Troy Mason


The things
he doesn't say
slow-growing ivy

Alexis Rotella


Photo by Ivo Ivov


summer noon. . .
even the woodpecker's pecking
sounds heavy

Kanchan Chatterjee


Photo by Inderjit Nijjer



geese flying south--
the ducks at the gate
cheer them on

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku 

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Rehn Kovacic & Matthew Moffett: Wednesday Haiku, #219

Image from Talshiarr



Picking up each seed
   the bird bows--
        backyard Buddha

Rehn Kovacic



Photo by Ross




beside themselves
beside the cracked-up pavement
daffodils

Matthew Moffett


Artwork by Hishida Shunso




still plum blossoms
my head, by itself
bows
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Ida Frelinger & Susan Diridoni: Wednesday Haiku, #218


Image by Tom Simpson via foter




one day at a time
a duckling skids
into the no-wake zone

     Ida Frelinger




Photo by azut via foter



sprouting oaks fugue a welcome

               Susan Diridoni 





Photo by Paul Hudson via foter




my money sprouted wings
and flew away...
the year ends

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

DJ Garvey & Susan Constable: Wednesday Haiku, #216

Photo by Andrew Moore


evening chant -
sacred ibis in lines
of flight
DJ Garvey


 Photo by Jonathan Boeke


writer’s block
he asks what I think
about parsnips
Susan Constable


Artwork by Ted Silveira



over the big house
an excellent flight!
firefly
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Chen-ou Liu & Daryl Nielsen: Wednesday Haiku, #215

Photo by April Schultz

 

the river
swollen with spring ...
her stretchmarks

Chen-ou Liu





honeysuckle
through an open window
mother’s last breath

Daryl Nielsen






high noon--
the reed thrush sings
to a silent river

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Sunday, June 14, 2015

William Stafford: Where People Aren't


A book that I recently completed in my morning reading rotation is Things That Happen Where There Aren't Any People, a solid little William Stafford 38 page chapbook, put out by BOA Editions in 1980. 

Many of the poems in the book are about what the title suggests: things that happen without people. Stafford's deep interaction with nature comes out in any number of the poems included, such as the following:


Through the Junipers

   In the afternoon I wander away through
   the junipers. They scatter on low hills
   that open and close around me.
   If I go far enough, all sight or sound
   of people ends. I sit and look endless miles
   over waves of those hills.
   And then between sentences later when anyone
   asks me questions troubling to truth,
   my answers wander away and look back.
   There are these days, and there are these hills
   nobody thinks about, even in summer.
   And part of my life doesn’t have any home.


Stafford is the kind of poet who, on occasions such as this one, we seem to overhear talking to himself. He was a prolific poet, a serial writer if you will, and the more you read, the more you feel him working out the many different aspects of things he encounters. 

I could easily imagine him, on any given day, writing a very different last line for this poem. It is important to note, however, that this last line does not present empirical fact or even conjectural 'fact' - it presents feeling, how he felt after encountering nature without humans, and how he feels upon reentering the world of humans.

Reading this through some might think of Buddhism. Though this has some substance, I thought that Stafford, in his approach, represents a very Western (in this case, in both senses of the word) way of thinking, albeit a wilderness way of thinking. It reminded me of Somerset Maugham's character Larry Darrow from The Razor's Edge, who thinks that it is easy to be a monk on a mountain top, just try taking idealistic principles down into the world of people.

In case you forgot the post from 3 years ago (or weren't around these parts at that time), here's a scene with Bill Murray capturing the above sentiment from the excellent 1984 movie adaptation:




Because serendipity is the way of all things, I ran into the following haiku by Shiki in-between the next to last and last edit of this post and it seems, in its own way, to speak to the heart of the subject at hand:


      There is no trace
Of him who entered
      The summer grove
      Shiki
      trans. by R. W. Blyth


Photo by Tom Magliery

-------------------






baby sparrow--
even when people come
opening his mouth
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Bart Solarcyzk & Lisa Espenmiller: Wednesday Haiku, #214




Her princess dreams
& ragdoll dress
come morning

Bart Solarczyk



Photo by plochingen

 


morning bath
ghosts
rise with the steam

Lisa Espenmiller



Photo by Cecil Beaton



the beggar child prays
with trembling voice...
for a doll
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Mary Frederick Ahearn & Pravat Kumar Padhy: Wednesday Haiku, #213

Photo by Clyde Bentley



how tenderly
the hawk feeds her young -
who are we to say

Mary Frederick Ahearn


 

Photo by Chris Gunns



autumn melancholy--
the shadow connects
the trees

Pravat Kumar Padhy



Photo by Kusakabe Kimbei

 
in the wake
of the Buddhist procession...
honking geese
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Goran Gatalica & Olivier Schopfer: Wednesday Haiku, #212

Photo of a Jackdaw (member of the Crow family)  by Jyrki Salmi


the Blue crow
brings morning silence
with its wings
Goran Gatalica



Photo by Ricardo Cuppini
    ​            

first drops of rain...
halfway up the wild rose stem
a ladybird stops
Olivier Schopfer


Photo by Adrian Kingsley-Hughes



making mountains rise
in the clouds...
cawing crow
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Chiyo-ni: the plum flower ...

Photo by Appaloosa 


so so sad 
to miss the plum flower
before it fell
Chiyo-ni
trans. by Patricia Donegan & Yoshi Ishibashi


Though I was tempted at first to say, "Here is the modern dilemma," really, here is the human dilemma, shared by no other species. In Patricia Donegan's commentary on this poem, she mentions that this is more than likely a poem of mourning for fellow haiku poet, Shiko, whose pen name means 'plum flower.' Of course, the poem stands also on its own with this second level of meaning.

One of the books in my morning "pile" of poetry is Chiyo-ni: Woman Haiku Master, translated with commentary by Patricia Donegan, with the assistance of Yoshi Ishibashi. It is truly a masterwork. Unfortunately, it is out of print from Tuttle and copies are going for $100 and up. One can only hope that it will again see the light of day as it is a must for any serious haiku collection. 

Donegan's work here, particularly as commentator, as in Haiku Mind, is transcendent. In my limited experience, she is only surpassed by Blyth. 



plum blossoms gone
suddenly Kyoto
looks old

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue

Photo of Seiryuga haiden

best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Michael Dylan Welch & DJ Garvey: Wednesday Haiku, #211

Photograph by Kettukusu



whistling wind—
a small snow drift
by the still rabbit
Michael Dylan Welch



Image by Jetheriot via foter


black bough
vibrating
no bird
 DJ (Dennis) Garvey


Artwork from Wellcome Images


grafting a branch--
I might be dead
tomorrow 
Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Five Classic Cormorant Haiku



In book 3 of R. H. Blyth's classic 4-volume Haiku, there are a number of sections on particular subjects, one being cormorant fishing. Cormorant fishing is a method, as depicted above, in which the bird has a snare attached to the base of its throat. When the cormorant catches a fish, it is unable to swallow it and the fisherman extracts it from the bird's throat. The the process is then repeated, over and over again.

This method of fishing, hundreds and hundreds of years old, inspired many haiku. And, as would be expected, most are in empathy with the plight of the bird.

Here are 4 poems by classic masters, translated by Blyth:


Art by Katsukawa Shunsen


      Cormorants
and cormorant fishers, too,
      Parent and child.    
                    Issa


This is a signature Issa poem, focused as it is on the shared experience of bird and human: both are, potentially, parent and child. Issa, who considered himself an orphan from an early age, has compassion which knows no species line. Obviously, the plight of the cormorant is especially emotive for him.


Model from Vatican Museum


      Morning twilight;
In their basket, the cormorants
      Asleep, exhausted.    
                    Shiki


Shiki goes right to the heart of the matter, the birds' terrible plight: catch the fish, be unable to eat. Hence, the exhaustion - all effort, no reward. 


Statue, Eden Park, Cincinnati, OH


      The cormorant keeper
Grown old,
      Is not to be seen this year.  
                    Buson


Buson focuses on the elderly man he remembers seeing who is the keeper and trainer of cormorants. As with Issa's poem, we see the human, in important respects, shares the plight of the cormorant: life's ephemerality.


Frontispiece, Talks about Birds


       My soul
Dived in and out of the water
       With the cormorant    
                    Onitsura


Like Shiki, Onitsura identifies completely with the task of the cormorant and replicates what is a very real emotional experience for those who witness this type of fishing.

The one master missing is Bashō from this particular selection of Blyth translations. I found his translation of the follwoing a bit cumbersome, so here it is, translated by David Landis Barnhill instead:



Artwork by Keisai Eisen


so fascinating
        but then so sad:
               cormorant fishing boat  
          Bashō


Bashō  strikes a perfect balance of humanness - the fascination with this 'ingenious' method of fishing and, suddenly, the revelation of its implication, karmic and otherwise. The range of emotion from one mere moment to the next is, in itself, something of an analogy for the human experience.

One note - there are, and have been, different methods of cormorant 'fishing.' Another method does not involve a snare around the neck, but the bird (actually, a number are used at a time) is tethered to the boat, having been trained not to swallow.

----------------

Woodblock by Kunisada



the cormorants stare
at them hard...
cormorant fishermen

Issa
trans. by David G. Lanoue



best,
Don

PS  Click to learn how to contribute to Wednesday Haiku