Villanelle, Pantoums and Tankas

At the Tuesday writer's group we went through a spell of writing, or attempting to write, poetry in form.  Some of us took to this with more enthusiasm than others. One member got really good at the Sonnet and, jolly good for her, she wrote some fun ones mocking the rigidity of the rules then others using them adeptly to make her poems more moving - because that's just what form can do. It can make the simplest most mundane occurrence into a truly emotional experience.

Some time back I had accidentally discovered the Villanelle. I was thinking of submitting a poem to a particular magazine and was carefully reading the editor's guidelines when I found an instruction that took me aback. I was not to bother sending in a villanelle because he despised them. Now, I have a side to my nature I like to describe as puckish but in truth it's just contrary. An opinionated ass telling me I can't write in a certain way because he doesn't like it is very stimulating to the creative mischief maker. I  had to look up villanelles first because I'd never heard of them, but once I grasped the idea I wrote him one. I wasn't quite bold enough to send it.

                 Passing Bell.

Sound melancholy note, the passing bell.

Toll my hearts’ sadness through the sleeping land

Whilst curlew calls its mate on distant fell.

Take wing from grief to tremble in cold cell,

Armour myself about with mourning band,

Sound melancholy note, the passing bell.

Leaving brought a pain too great to tell,

To wrench away from your supporting hand,

Whilst curlew called his mate on distant fell.

The boom of foreign seas in empty shell

Where echoes of my loneliness rebound,

Sound melancholy note, the passing bell.

As if some evil beldame cast a spell

To hollow out the centre of my heart

Whilst curlew called its mate on distant fell.

No honeyed words or praises can dispel

The anguish, careless, caused by your deceit.

Sound melancholy note the passing bell,

Whilst curlew calls her mate on distant fell.

Yes, well. It's a lot gushier than my usual work. Still, I felt it had some thing and I've been fond of the form ever since. 

What we started with in the group was the Pantoum.  Here's what you can find on line about Pantoum's (don't you love the name? There's a pantomime horse in it, all floppy and goofy.) 

What is a Pantoum?

"A Pantoum is a type of poem with a verse form consisting of three stanzas. It has a set pattern within the poem of repetitive lines.

The pattern in each stanza is where the second and fourth line of each verse is repeated as the first and third of the next. The pattern changes though for the last stanza to the first and third line are the second and fourth of the stanza above (penultimate). The last line is a repeat of the first starting line of the poem and the third line of the first is the second of the last. Confused? Good. It gets worse in this following explanation:

Structure

The pantoum is a form of poetry similar to a villanelle in that there are repeating lines throughout the poem. It is composed of a series of quatrains; the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues for any number of stanzas, except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the penultimate; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final. Ideally, the meaning of lines shifts when they are repeated although the words remain exactly the same: this can be done by shifting punctuation, punning, or simply recontextualizing.   (Now don't you want to throw the laptop out of the window?)

A four-stanza pantoum is common,(although more may be used) and in the final stanza, you could simply repeat lines one and three from the first stanza, or write new lines. The pantoum form is as follows:

Stanza 1 A B C D

Stanza 2 B E D F

Stanza 3 E G F H

Stanza 4 G I (or A or C) H J (or A or C)  

 And finally I understood. Here's one I wrote earlier:

Atlit-Yam, Israel, Mediterranean.

Swallowed by the ocean

weevils sit eternally amongst the grain

skeletons lie peaceful in their graves.

a stone circle throbs with ancient magics

Weevils sit eternally amongst the grain

waiting to be wakened with a kiss.

A stone circle throbs with ancient magics.

fronded with brown algae, kelp and wrack

Waiting to be wakened with a kiss

from the sun they never see but greened,

fronded with brown algae, kelp and wrack

the circle dances to the rhythm of the sea. 

From the sun they never see but greened

swallowed by the ocean

the circle dances to the rhythm of the sea

and skeletons lie peaceful in their graves.

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

You'll notice that I haven't stuck religiously to the rules.