POEMS OF THE WEEK: MEN'S VOICES: HANK, FRANK AND LEE SAN

It's time to listen to the voices of some of the men in our community, fellow poets, so today we have poems by Hank Kaykuala, who writes at Rainbow, Frank J. Tassone, who blogs at American Haijin, and Cheong Lee San, more familiarly known to us online as dsnake, who writes at Urban  Poems. You're going to love them. Let's dive right in.

EMPTINESS IN THE SKY

Evening lull but an
emptiness in the sky to
bring throes of longings

where you were but now
shadows of apparitions
dancing in the void

unsatiated
sudden and mysterious
you left unannounced

Sherry: I can feel that emptiness, when someone has departed unexpectedly.

Hank: When Chev at Carpe Diem presented a prompt, yuuuagi (an evening lull),  a summer kigo, Hank's thoughts went back to some past events. Hank was leafing through an old tattered photo album some years back and discovered a picture of an old flame. It was just as tattered and long forgotten. It was a brief encounter Hank remembered. It could have developed further, as she was such an adorable little lass. It was stifled when she left without a word. 

The above was the background musing in Hank's head when thinking what to write then. 

Sherry: Old photos are certainly full of nostalgia. Sigh. Thank you for sharing, Hank.

Frank recently wrote about a departure in a poem that truly touched my heart. Let's take a look.

GOING SOMEWHERE?

The woosh of passing wind as I move on,

the bam!bam!bam! of hammers fall away.

These wheels that crunch on gravel just beyond,

a highway exit ramp to the blue way,

where life slows down with every town I pass;

and burdens born from crow-caws to day’s rind

yeild to a precious peace I know won’t last,

but let the growls of grief slip from my mind.

Where, then, can I lay my head for the night,

remembering her ever-waking snores,

until the clock’s cukoo at dawn’s first light,

sets me once more on my own tour-du-force?

But where else can my happiness endure

than in your arms like all our days before?

cricket songs

silence from your side

of our bed

  

Sherry: That silence from the other side of the bed speaks loudly, Frank. Thank you for sharing this very moving poem. I admire the way you introduced so many sounds. 

Frank: This sonnet-haibun demonstrates how the writer and reader construct meaning together. I had intended a humorous jaunt, inspired by Shakespeare's "Sonnet 130", in which the narrator undertakes a journey to escape his wife's snoring. A few understood it as such, and Bjorn actually discerned the inspiring sonnet. Many other readers, however, perceived a heartwrenching story of grief.

Looking back on the poem, I can see their point. I was struck by how sorrowful the tone was, and the stark imagery in the haiku clearly did not portray the light-hearted humor I intended! It's as though the poem took on a life of its own and presented the mournful journey of a widower seeking-in-vain to escape his sorrow over his lost love.

From a craft standpoint, I find sonnets a challenge, so I'm delighted that it worked well in conjunction with the haiku. I enjoyed writing it, and I'm happy it was so well received.

Sherry: Wow, Frank, thanks for this explanation. I totally read it as a poem of loss and grief and am smiling to think how we bring our own interpretations to other peoples' poems. I am relieved this is a poem of humour and not heartbreak. Yay! And you executed the sonnet very ably!

The following poem by Lee San will close this feature with a note of hope for the times we live in, when it seems values we believed were steadfast are shaking in  unfriendly winds.

THE FOUR SISTERS

"Can we not raise our hands in anger?
beat our swords into ploughshares instead?"

and Peace 
raises her hands and releases the white petrel
where it circles the storm clouds

says Hope
and the golden flame in her hand
flickers but still burns strongly in the wind

says Love
and the stalk of red rose
bends with the wind but does not break

says Faith
and her hands cup the the sunrise
weighing the golden orb of the growing sun

and they look at the grey skies turning black
the sea sneering and scattering the dunes

and they are not afraid.


Sherry: The imagery in this poem is so beautiful, Lee San. I especially agree that these virtues may bend, but do not break.

Lee San: This poem is the response to a picture prompt by Rick Mobbs, a talented painter from New Mexico. Weekly, he would place one of his paintings on his blog for us writers to ponder over it. That was somewhere in 2008.

So around two years later I came around to writing a poem over the painting (you know how tardy I can be). The names Peace, Love, Hope and Faith came to me quite easily and I wrote the poem and promptly forgot about it. At that time I thought it was not that 'complete'.

Recently, I came across it on one of my thumb drives (that's my tardiness at work again). I did some minor edits and decided that it would be a very good and appropriate time to post it. You know, the crazy times we are living in now? So I added in a link to a Pink Floyd song and that's it.  And hope that with these four sisters, the dark tides will turn. :)

Sherry: We need to cling to these values more than ever before.  How we long for the dark tide to turn. Thank you for this note of hope, Lee San. 

We hope you enjoyed these poetic offerings, my friends. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

LIFE OF A POET ~ FRANK J. TASSONE

This week we are pleased to feature one of our newer members, Frank J. Tassone, who blogs at American Haijin. Frank lives near New York, and has a very interesting story. He is sharing some of his wonderful poetry with us, along with some photos from his travels. Pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea, and pull your chairs up close. You won't want to miss a single word. Let's dive in!

Sherry: Frank, we are so happy to be visiting with you. Give us a peek at the poet at home, won't you?

Frank: I am a husband, father, writer and teacher.

I live in Montebello, New York, about thirty-five miles northwest of New York City as the crow flies. It’s the ideal location for either catching a Broadway show or taking a day’s hike through the mountains.

I live with Mira, my wife of seventeen-plus years and our fourteen-year old son, Frank.

I’ve worked as a New York City High School special education teacher for twenty plus years.

Sherry: That is very meaningful and important work. And how wonderful to live so close to New York, yet at a bit of a distance. The best of both worlds. Where did you grow up, Frank?

Frank: I am a son of the Lower Hudson Valley of New York State. I grew up in Sleepy Hollow, NY in Westchester County, and New City, NY— across the Hudson River in Rockland County.

Sherry: Have you always written? 

Frank: I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing. My parents surrounded me with books, and even bought me three sets of encyclopedia. I loved animals as a child, and my first writings were 1-page animal reports. I experimented with fiction at age twelve, when I wrote my first short story.

My first poem, written in high school, was a sixteen-line, four verse, abab-rhyming lyric for a friend infatuated with a girl. Since he didn’t know what to say, I played Cyrano de Bergerac for him! After that, I wrote poems for myself, and I quickly discovered free verse.

Sherry: Was there someone you feel had a significant influence on your becoming a poet? Someone who encouraged your gifts?

Frank: I had a drive to write from early on. My parents sympathized, and cautiously supported me, but they were also concerned that I have a career to “fall back on.” I’ve also had English teachers through the years that encouraged me.

Sherry: What do you love about poetry? I note your interest in haiku, haiki, tanka and haibun. When did this fascination begin and what inspired it?

Frank: I love language. I enjoy how it shapes the very way in which we perceive. I totally agree with Ursula Le Guin when she writes that poetry is concentrated language par excellence.  It helps me to conceptualize, even incarnate, subtle emotions and obscure ideas that otherwise would remain unknowable.

Haikai poetry—the family of Japanese-inspired poetry forms like haiku, senryu, tanka and haibun—inspires me the most. The subtle beauty and brilliant presence of the juxtaposed images utilized by these forms produce a feast of epiphanies.

I first encountered tanka and haiku during a college course on Japanese history, in the fall of 1990. I wrote some haiku, on and off, through the intervening years, including some truly awful ‘ku in the mid-2000s. Then I discovered Hortensia Anderson’s haibun on Contemporary Haibun Online (CHO), and I was hooked! I devoured her poetry, and went on to read haibun and haiku from other haijin (from Basho to Roberta Beary, and beyond!) I soon wrote haibun and haiku almost exclusively from that point on (somewhere around 2007.)

Sherry: Would you like to  share four poems with us? Perhaps one of each -(haiku, haiki, haibun and tanka) - and point out to us the features of each form?

Frank: I would be happy to!

I’ll begin with a haiku:

Christmas truce

cigarettes exchanged

across No Man’s Land

First, let’s clear up a common misconception: a haiku does not have to have a 5-7-5 syllable count. It does include two juxtaposed images that, when combined, create an “Ah” or “a-ha!” moment. They typically include a seasonal reference called a kigo, and a cutting word/phrase.

This haiku’s juxtaposed images recall the actual Christmas truce called during WWI, when enemy soldiers exchanged cigarettes and pleasantries, instead of bloodshed and death, across the dread No Man’s Land between their trenches.

Sherry: I love that story! Two wonderful movies have been made about that exchange.

Frank: My next selection is a haibun:

Conflicted Expectations

We cleared gravy-stained plates and tainted wine glasses. The remains of the turkey could feed the five of us for days.

It was the first year we didn't host. Mom and Dad invited us downstairs instead. We had arranged to eat dinner with them and then travel to my Sister-in-law's for dessert. She hosted dinner for the rest of my wife's family in our place. 

As we said goodbye, my father's sadness showed in his resigned eyes. I carried his face with me long after we left.

"Did we leave too early?" I asked. We had already passed the Spring Valley toll on the thruway.

She glared at me. Her silence was answer enough.

I felt only my clenched hands on the wheel as a forgotten song played on a forgotten station.

Thanksgiving Day–
A murder of crows
Takes flight

A haibun consists of a title, prose-poetry and haiku. All three complement each other, forming a whole through juxtaposition. In this haibun, the prose describes a familiar conflict that happens during the holidays—my wife and I have “conflicted expectations” on spending time with our respective families. The haiku accents this. 

“Thanksgiving Day” is the season word (kigo) that emphasizes the irony of a holiday being the occasion of discord. The cutting phrase—a murder of crows—embodies the chill, deathlike aspect of Autumn, and the cold silence between us.

Next up, a tanka. This one is the tanka from a tanka-prose (a haibun that includes tanka instead of haiku) published in Image Curve:

Autumn wind

leaves continue to fall –

for a moment

the congested highway

is clear

A tanka is typically written in five lines. It also uses juxtaposed images in the first three lines (typically). The remaining lines provide space for the poet to expand on the emotion or idea expounded in the first lines. Here, I juxtaposed the image of falling leaves in an autumn wind with a sudden opening of traffic in a congested highway.

Finally, there is the senryu:

promises 

we​ ​never​ ​keep 

summer​ ​wind

the senryu, unlike the haiku, focus especially on human nature. They can be funny, sarcastic, poignant, or whatever; they usually reveal something of our imperfections in answer. They may, or may not, have a seasonal or nature reference. This one does—that last line.

Sherry: Thank you, Frank, for explaining the distinctions. I understand you enjoy performance poetry. Would you like to tell us a bit about this?

Frank: I read original poetry once at an Open Mic event in Johnson City, New York (just outside of Binghamton) during college. I read again in 1994, at a now-defunct coffee bar called Caffeine Jones, in New City. I wouldn’t read again for twenty years. That’s when we discovered a sign for a poetry slam while walking through Nyack, New York. We decided to attend, and I felt blown away! 

Two weeks later, the same organization—Suffern Poets--hosted an Open Mic in Suffern, New York—right next to my village! I attended, read some haibun, and loved every minute of it! I came back the following month, and the month after. I now read/perform every third Saturday of the month at the Rockland Poets’ (formerly Suffern Poets) Open Mic in Suffern. 

Sherry: It sounds like a blast! When you aren’t working or writing, what other activities do you enjoy?

Frank: My wife and I love to hike. We’re fifteen minutes drive from Harriman State Park, one of the best day hiking parks in the country. We’ve hiked through Vermont and upstate New York, and we hope to hike the 47 peaks of the Adirondacks in Upstate New York some day. We also meditate as often as possible. I practice tai chi as close to once a day as I can. Of course, I always have a book (or three) lying close at hand. Then, there’s my shameless addiction to anything Star Wars or Marvel Cinematic Universe related!

Sherry: It is wonderful to get out in nature as a family. That will stay with your son all his life. I understand you love to travel. In all of your journeying, is there one trip that stands out? 

Frank: Our “bucket list” trip was a Princess land-and-sea tour of Alaska that we took two years ago. We traveled up from Anchorage through the interior, where we stayed at two different wilderness lodges, toured a National forest (with views of a Moose cow and her calf), and took a photograph of the elusive Denali! (It’s not the best photograph, as we were far by that point)

Denali peeking behind clouds

A glass-top private train ride back to the coast brought us to our ship. We sailed southeast along the coast. Along the way, we saw Hubbard Glacier, Marjorie and the many other glaciers in Glacier Bay National Park, the picturesque beauty of the Yukon territory (via train ride out of Skagway), humpback whales bubble-feeding in a bay off Juneau, Mendenhall Glacier (where this familial photo was taken):

Not to mention another familiar sight, taken during a tour of Tongas National Forest:

Sherry: Sigh. One of the trips on my Bucket List was the Denali wildlife refuge. How wonderful that you experienced it. 

Frank: Our most recent trip was to Acadia National Park in Maine. After two days of fog, the sun finally burned through. We took advantage and hiked up Cadillac Mountain, the highest peak in the park. 

We also took a breathtaking hike along a ridge trail beside the ocean.

Sherry: Thanks for sharing your wonderful travels, Frank. I love the photos!

Is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United?

Frank: I used to complain that I wanted to write but didn’t have the time. One day, Mira said, “Then go write, already! I’m tired of hearing you complain all the time!” With that permission, I quickly developed a large file of haibun. Soon, I mustered up the courage to submit “Conflicted Expectations” to Contemporary Haibun Online. I soon had other haibun published there and in Haibun Today. Then, through the Meetup App, I connected with the editor-in-chief of a new literary journal, Image Curve. I became a contributing poet with the journal, where I’ve submitted haibun weekly for the past two-and-a-half years.

If I can offer any advice to new poets, and writers in general, it is this: write! Write, and seize any opportunities that come your way. Put your work into circulation. Find out what a publication needs, and match your poetry to that need, and submit! But above all, write! And enjoy every word of it—even when it hurts!

Sherry: I love what your wife said. Just do it! LOL. Wonderful and encouraging advice! Thanks, Frank, for allowing us to get to know you better!

Frank: Thank you, Sherry! I’m honored to have this opportunity to share with you and all of Poets United!

Wasn't this fun, my friends? It is so nice to see photos from other places, for we armchair travellers. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? (I don't, at this particular moment.) It might be you!