A year of poetry blogging

A while back, I read a post at Book of Kells by poet-writer-editor Kelli Russell Agodon, where she posed the question: "Do you still have a blog?" Recently, she followed up with another post: ".... To  Blog or Not to Blog?"

Do I still have a blog? Several years ago, when blogging was hipper than it is now, I was a contributing member of a group poetry blog created, managed, and owned by someone else (and that blog later morphed into a print literary journal). But I only started my own blog a year ago this month.

I'm often slow to follow trends, quite slow. I could give various examples of how late to the party I tend to be in my life, but maybe I'll save them for a future post. I suppose I eventually could get into tweeting—compressed, quick communication—though probably only after it has become passé.

I like Ms. Agodon's term "online shy," which is how I sometimes feel. (Actually, for most of my lifetime, I've been just plain shy in general.) So at times I wonder what I'm doing here. 

I obviously don't have a large blog readership: I have a tiny handful of visible members and, I gather, another small handful of e-mail and other invisible subscribers. Based on the patterns of my stats, I may have an additional handful of onlookers from around the world—primarily, North America, Europe, and Asia. And, from time to time, I also have many spammers, though not nearly as many as when I started out. 

I think it must take quite a bit of work to attract a sizable following (unless, maybe, you're pretty well-known), particularly these days with the apparently waning popularity of blogging and the great migration of poets and poetry lovers, along with half of humanity, to Tweeterland—though a gazillion miscellaneous blogs do still exist. 

I don't know who all of my visitors are, or exactly how many of you there are, but I'm grateful for you! Sincerely. I'm not sure how long I'll keep this blog, but for now, I do plan to continue.

Now, why I "still blog":
- I hope it's not because I like to "hear myself speak," though hearing ourselves speak can be revealing. And I know it's not because I like to be the center of attention.
- Maintaining a blog is another creative outlet for me; in my opinion, we all need ways to express ourselves creatively. 
- Blogs, to me, can be warmer places than certain other social media outlets, and a person also can say more. "...blogs offer us the opportunity to expand our thought," says Ms. Agodon.
- Since I can be a ridiculously practical person, I feel I must do something with my barely used poetry—e.g., work that has been published a time or two and then otherwise would disappear into the ether—so I don't "waste it." I suppose this blog is my "book."
- I'm a bit afraid to blog: am blog shy. At this stage in my life, it's time to not be quite so afraid. Yes, maybe that's the most important reason why I have this blog—to plod on despite my inclination to withdraw, if that makes any sense.

What about you? Do you still have a blog? Why do you blog? Or have you never had a blog of your own? Even if you're not up to posting an answer, I congratulate you for making it clear through to the bottom of this post! And, again, I thank you for the support: for commenting to me or just quietly checking out twigs&stones. 

I'll keep the deadbolt unlocked and the porch light on for you (unless, of course, the bulb burns out and I forget to replace it—smile).

*******

We may not be as unique as we think

The big sigh when we compose something we're convinced must be totally unique, only to stumble across its already-published cousin a while later. Or vice versa: after we've published our special poem, another one from someone else follows with a hauntingly similar treatment. Possibly the "original" imagery is very similar or the particular message or concept or sometimes a few key words—or some combination of those things. The shorter the poem—such as in the case of tanka and, even more so, haiku—the greater the inevitability that sort of thing is going to happen.

Perhaps we should enjoy the synchronicity. Perhaps we also should find solace when we know we're writing who we are, infusing ourselves and our experiences as deeply as possible into our words, delivering our own takes on what has "already been written," even if we may be unaware at the time that it has.

Margaret Dornaus sums up this situation well in a post, "Revisiting déjà-ku . . .," at her Haiku-doodle blog. So I won't say anything more here and will let you read her beautiful words.

What in the world are tanka?

A few weeks ago, a fellow writer-blogger asked me what a tanka is. For those perusing this blog who may be unfamiliar with the term, and also wondering what it is that I've been posting, a tanka is a "short poem" with a long, interesting history. The word is used in both the singular and plural (poem and poems) and applies to both genre and form. Its Japanese origins and relationship with waka, translating to "Japanese song," go back around 1300 years or so; the more-familiar haiku is several centuries younger.

In English, tanka consist of five fairly brief lines. There have been some colorful discussions, maybe small wars, in the English-language tanka (ELT) community over the exact particulars of the ELT form. An ELT isn't just any five-line poem, that's for sure, but it's tough to define in a meant-to-be-brief blog post. There are certain characteristics, to do with both structure and flavor, that seem to make it what it is. By the way, a 31-syllable poem is not a good or accurate description; the use of as many as 31 English syllables can result in fairly cumbersome tanka. Japanese tanka cannot simply be mimicked in other languages. Perhaps "we" shouldn't even call our non-Japanese versions "tanka," but here we are. To learn more, as well as read lots of examples, check out several of the sidebar links I've provided in this blog. 

Current ELT writing styles are all over the place. Myself, I'm most drawn to those poems that are lithe, concise yet lyrical, deceptively simple, and fresh, and that make use of natural contemporary speech. I attempt to write the bulk of my own in a "traditional" short-long-short-long-long line-length pattern, though my subject matter and approach may not always be thought of as traditional.

At any rate, the worldwide ELT community seems to have expanded fairly rapidly over the past several years. Composing tanka can be a challenging yet addictive pastime.

P.S. Quite a few small, quality journals exist that either are dedicated to ELT or otherwise feature it. Still, the time may be ripe for additional tanka-friendly 'zines, especially since one not long ago shut its doors and another one or two have been on hiatus. Anyone out there up for the task?

Being imperfect and unsafe: two essays

Something I've finally learned in life is to try a little less and stay a little mussed up (well, I may have gone overboard with the last part). I enjoy discovering beauty in the rustic or ramshackle, in plants some may call weeds, in things or even people discarded by others. And I'm drawn to poetry that may be a wee bit askew, while shedding light on our imperfect selves.

Thought I'd share this link to a lovely brief essay by Erin Coughlin Hollowell: "The Art of Imperfection in Poetry (and in life)" (with her permission). And here's another essay from her Being Poetry blog that I can identify with, about neat poems versus those with ragged edges: "Headfirst into the Picture Window—Risk in Writing."