Third Wednesday’s poem of the week is taken from our (just released) fall issue. Little needs to be said about this short poem from Cary Barney of Madrid, Spain.
You don’t see many ekphrastic poems inspired by the work of a performance artist, but our Poem of the Week by California poet, Laura Schulkind, is just that.
” I write poetry and fiction because, lawyer that I am, I believe in the power of a well-told story. In law I am entrusted with others’ stories. Through poetry and fiction I tell my own. “
Laura’s chapbook, Lost in Tall Grass (Finishing Line Press), was released 2014 and her newest, The Long Arc of Grief (Finishing Line Press) came out this summer.
Sijo is a Korean form comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended to be sung, Sijo usually treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern Sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.
It’s not possible to reproduce classic Sijo in English. For example, in true Sijo, the poet composes in a pattern of 3,4,3,4 or 3,4,4,4 syllable words for the first line, then a line of 3,4,3,4 and finally a line of 3,5,4,3. Our best hope is that we can stay close to the spirit of Sijo in English.
Writing Sijo presents a wonderful opportunity to sharpen your revision and and editing skills. The short form allows more flexibility than Hiaku or Tanka. For example, simile can be present in Sijo. Sijo, longer than those forms, is still short enough that every word choice and syllable is important. Look for opportunities to add poetic devices such as asonance or a light touch of alliteration or internal rhyme.
The spring breeze melted snow on the hills then quickly disappeared.
I wish I could borrow it briefly to blow over my hair
And melt away the aging frost forming now about my ears.
— U Tak (1262–1342)
Oh that I might capture the essence of this deep midwinter night
And fold it softly into the waft of a spring-moon quilt
Then fondly uncoil it the night my beloved returns.
— Hwang Chin-i (1522-1565)
Under our oak the grass withers,
so we plant petunias;
We water them, we coddle them,
burn their youth with chemicals.
Digesting their timely death,
the oak renews our summer shade.
Without the pines / the wind is silent;
without wind / the pines are still;
Without you / my heart is voiceless,
without that voice / my heart is dead.
What potent power / of yang and yin
pairs us / before we sleep?
Our poem of the week is by Jude Dippold, one of our favorite poets from Washington State, which is a hotbed of great contemporary poetry. This poem will appear in our fall issue, due out in couple weeks. The issue will feature the winners of our annual flash fiction contest and a cover that’s worth framing.
Our Poem of the Week is an ekphrastic piece from William Snyder, a North Dakota poet who has appeared in the pages of 3rd Wednesday a number of times. It’s a preview from our fall issue, which should be out near the end of September.