I wrote another haiku yesterday, posted it to twitter and copied in Sean (@SeanBlogonaut) to see what he could add to form a tanka.
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
Sean added the final lines:
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
would that my love return
like the green leaves of spring
He also played with the second last line
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
how I wish my lover would return
like the green leaves of spring
We were playing around with this on Facebook, on a private page for our small group of writers, and after reading through Sean’s ideas, I added my own versions.
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
I wait for my love’s return
with the green shoots of spring
*****
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
I wait for my heart’s return
with the green shoots of spring
This is the fun of collaboration, learning with each other the intricacies of a new art form.
Into the mix Jodi Cleghorn (@JodiCleghorn) added her own version using my original haiku and added her own final lines to form another tanka.
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
left to decay
with the memory of you
As she said, “Thank you for new ways to play and collaborate.”
Ultimately, this is what it is all about: new ways to play and collaborate. The apparent simplicity of haiku and tanka reveals a deeper, more sophisticated art form that while simple to learn is difficult to execute and takes years to master.
But the evening’s fun continued. Jodi wrote two haiku while out at the shops and posted them for us to add two final lines to form a tanka.
an autumnal drift
shedding selves compost
buried beneath
*****
frost-bitten feet
walk from the place
I forgot to leave
I took the haiku and added my own final couplet
an autumnal drift
shedding selves compost
buried beneath
resurrection of the dead
in someone else’s life
*****
frost-bitten feet
walk from the place
I forgot to leave
in the hope
your heart will thaw
frost-bitten feet
walk from the place
I forgot to leave
in the hope
your heart would thaw
In the last two, the change of a single word, “would” for “will” creates two very different meanings and both a valid.
Here’s a challenge: take my haiku and write two final lines to form a tanka.
fading amber leaves
blown into the courtyard corner
lovers’ forgotten kisses
A Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt 