Write On!

First issue of a new writing exchange between friends, 'Write On! - Issue #1 (Tanka)' was meant as an ice-breaker of sorts: a short exercise with which to bring us all together, nail down the conceptual basis of our literary and creative playground, and also a way by which to understand and feel if the journey we were setting ourselves upon was truly worth undertaking.

This journey, this idea behind 'Write On!' was simple: propose short creative challenges defined by a set of restrictions, relatively loose deadlines, and the goal of laying down a perfection-free common ground where we could learn about ourselves through our craft and our interactions.

The first exercise I proposed was writing a short poem, a tanka, which is a form of Japanese poetry mainly defined by (1) its syllabic count and structure, (2) its conceptual composition, and (3) its purpose. Here's a quick summary:

Syntactically, a tanka is a thirty-one syllable (unrhymed) poem arranged in five units of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. These units take the form of verses when the tanka is romanized or translated.
The themes of a tanka are the observation of an image (usually concerning nature), and the observation of a profound feeling. Both are tied by a turn, or a pivotal image.
Tankas were often written and exchanged as a form of courtship and intimate communication between Japanese nobility.

The proposition of a tanka was ideal for Issue #1 because it was short in terms of length (or word count), it posed a series of interesting restrictions we would have to write around, and it also provided us with an opportunity to discover and learn something new.

I know I shouldn't be the one to say this, but I loved this challenge and the poems that came out of it. And by writing this blog's entry, my hope is that you also grow to love the idea behind this creative exchange and maybe even try your hand at composing a tanka.

Here's the one I wrote (no need to count the syllables. It's all good, trust me):

The smell of flowers
comes back once forgotten
over the red fields
separating our houses
burning bright with shared memories