Hearing the Reverie
Photo of a Himeji Garden grey heron by Diana Ewell Engel
Enjambment, Part 2
Himeji Garden moss glows,/ deepens/ my quiet passage./ Petals multiply/ like koi/ in lake rivulets./ A hush/ descends./ From the castle,/ a faint echo:/ Samurai share strategy. -Diana Ewell Engel
Photo by David Hoefler on Unsplash
Hello, Seized Readers, and welcome to the season of fall!
Today, we’re heading back to another transitional season, spring, as we further explore how enjambment can affect the tone and emphasis of a poem. In my 4/26/24 post, “Haiku Shape-Shifts into Sijo,” I included a Sijo I wrote following my family’s trip to Japan. *As you read my original poem, remember that I indicate line breaks with a forward slash /. Each slash marks the end of a poetic line as it would appear on the page.*
My original Sijo about Himeji Garden: Himeji Garden moss glows, deepens my quiet passage. / Petals multiply like koi in lake rivulets. A hush descends. / From the castle, a faint echo: Samurai share strategy. -Diana Ewell Engel
Immediately, you see that my original Sijo has only three long, 14 and 16 syllable end-stopped poem lines which are required by the Sijo form.
My Sijo is meant to evoke the daydream nature of reverie. To help the reader feel and hear that effect, I can change my poem into free verse. Free verse is free of the constraints of meter or rhyme. Scroll up to the beginning of this post to read my free verse version.
Photo by Tsunami Green on Unsplash
Which version of the Himeji Garden poem do you like best and why?
Notice in the free verse version how I have spread out my words into more lines of verse. Read this version aloud and hear where you stop and pause, then move onward.
Suddenly, the shorter stressed words in the first stanza—deepens, koi, and hush resonate and capture our attention in a fuller way; these words receive emphasis. By enjambing my lines, that is continuing a sentence into two or three lines, I’m forcing the reader to slow down as they read my poem, to spend more time reading and hearing lines containing only one or two words. Enjambment reinforces the slow, daydream state of reverie. Notice too, how the tall structure of lines is like the cherry blossoms dropping, ending with, “A hush / descends.”
In a similar manner, the last stanza should help you fully absorb the scene by taking what was one long line and breaking it into short lines that emphasize each image—the castle, echo, and samurai conferring about strategy.
This is a poem which asks the reader to enter “the quiet passage” of daydream, to travel back in time to the feudal period when Himeji Castle served as a stronghold against possible intruders. There, samurai would confer with the shogun about battle strategy.
Incorporating more line breaks and the use of enjambment can help each image and idea expressed in a poem glisten by itself, creating a richer reading experience.
Find more of my poems in my collection, Excavating Light, available from Finishing Line Press.
Photo by Alireza heidarpour on Unsplash
Turning to Autumn and another poem, “Asagumori”
Asagumori On the forest path/ The leaves fall. In the withered/ Grass the crickets sing/ Their last songs. Through dew and dusk/ I walk the paths you once walked,/ My sleeves wet with memory./ - Kenneth Rexroth , from his collection, The Silver Swan: Poems Written in Kyoto, 1974-1975.
The poet Kenneth Rexroth wrote verse, essays, and plays largely from the 1940’s through the 1970’s. This self-educated Renaissance-styled man was, among other occupations, a painter, philosopher, translator, and newspaper columnist. Drawn to Asian philosophy and literature, he was one of the first U.S. poets to incorporate Japanese ideas and forms into his verse. His haiku-like poems such as “Asagumori,” a Japanese word which means overcast or cloudy morning, are among his most vivid poems.
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“Asagumori” evokes fall within a forest and the sorrow of the speaker’s loss, presumably, of a beloved. Autumn is the season of approaching death, and Rexroth conveys the sadness simply and beautifully with the leaves descending, the withered grass, and the last songs of crickets.
Autumn reflection: What images convey the essence of fall for you?
As you read this poem, notice how Rexroth creates action beginning with the leaf-fall and the crickets singing. He paints a quietly dynamic scene, and we as readers are there with him.
Rexroth’s use of enjambment by starting sentences in the middle of a line—“… In the withered” / and “… Through dew and dusk /” keep the poem’s momentum going so that we are walking with him through the woods.
He surprises us with the stunning ending, “My sleeves wet with memory.” (Rexroth, “Asagumori”) We can imagine the speaker weeping as he walks the trails he used to wander with his beloved. In this ending line, he makes a poetic leap from the speaker’s wet sleeves to his memories. This happens naturally: Rexroth has taken us by the hand through the forest and led us to this tender conclusion.
Photo by Fayiz Musthafa on Unsplash
In the next post, I will share the technique of synesthesia which Rexroth employs with his ending image. Synesthesia amplifies the emotional meaning of a poem, helping readers reach a deeper level of experience.
Share your impressions of “Asagumori” and what you’re currently reading and/or writing in the Comments section.
Photo by Billy Pascoon on Unsplash
A Shout-Out to Everyday Poems
As you explore blogs on substack.com, wander into Tania Runyan’s Everyday Poems. Her weekly selection of poems will delight your imagination and hopefully inspire you. Additionally, her post, “Skywoman, the trees, and fire,” will refer you to her book, How to Write A Form Poem, a helpful reference as you write your verse.