| Author | Message | ||
     Chrishayden "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Chrishayden Post Number: 5346 Registered: 03-2004 Rating: N/A |
Have any of you ever tried the form? What do you think of it? | ||
| Cynique "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Cynique Post Number: 10064 Registered: 01-2004 Rating: N/A |
Could you be more specific? | ||
| Chrishayden "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Chrishayden Post Number: 5372 Registered: 03-2004 Rating: N/A |
The kwansaba -- a 49-word poetic form invented during the Writers Club’s 1995 workshop season (in East St. Louis), consists of seven lines of seven words each; each word must contain between one and seven letters. Exceptions to the seven-letter rule are proper nouns and some foreign terms | ||
| Cynique "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Cynique Post Number: 10129 Registered: 01-2004 Rating: N/A |
In answer to your question, what I, in particular, think of this poetry style is - "nothing". The rules are too convoluted. | ||
| Yvettep AALBC .com Platinum Poster Username: Yvettep Post Number: 2307 Registered: 01-2005 Rating: N/A |
Chris, can you post an example or two? I am not getting a clear picture of this genre from your description. Does sound interesting, though. | ||
| Chrishayden "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Chrishayden Post Number: 5419 Registered: 03-2004 Rating: N/A |
In answer to your question, what I, in particular, think of this poetry style is - "nothing". The rules are too convoluted. (Damn--just when I am about to give up on you, you prove you DO have taste. That's just what I thought about it-- Then again, though it is a much shorter form their are whole books about the composition of the haiku--and also lots on the composition of sonnets--which are more complicated. The whole 7-7-7 composition seems rather artificial and mathmatical to me. How does this further the principals of kwanzaa? Is it numerology? | ||
| Chrishayden "Cyniquian" Level Poster Username: Chrishayden Post Number: 5420 Registered: 03-2004 Rating: N/A |
Some examples From this site: http://adriennecareyhurley.blogspot.com/2007/09/call-for-kwansabas-for-richard-w right.html still toting, quoting Mao's little red book born 'the king' but emerged a prophet, the wind from the east, poet's breath spells out truth, says "it's nation time" from Jersey to Frisco, Yenan, and back annos LXX natus and still kicking black arts, laurels intact. Shani's daddy, poet on! still toting, quoting Mao's little red book born 'the king' but emerged a prophet, the wind from the east, poet's breath spells out truth, says "it's nation time" from Jersey to Frisco, Yenan, and back annos LXX natus and still kicking black arts, laurels intact. Shani's daddy, poet on! Kwansaba for Quincy Troupe Reginald Lockett Lion roaming the vast Serengeti of verse On the Great Plains he stalks words Dogs the scents of verbs and nouns King of musical lines tracks poetry's song In the forest there stands his prize, A sleek gazelle of a poem desired He makes a quick study and pounces Drafts of kwansabas inspired by Richard Wright’s “Black Boy.” Wright wanted his life “to count for something.”) Patricia Merritt Longing begins as a pest that drips into the mammoth bucket without end. Impish drops become a steady flow that over- takes a dry-rotted wooden floor before creepin’ up my feet and lappin’ around naked ankles. I rush to get away, hurling greens, lard and starch at it. Desire appears to have fangs as it reaches the bottom of my pant zipper. Is it trying to baptize me? I wade to another part of the room. My feeble mother lays silent in bed, while Granny’s stern eyes follow me. Aunt Addie snarls: “Boy, stop all that moving.” My heart screams out: “I just don’t want my life to count for nothing!” Uncle Tom brushes past, his disdain cutting like razors. Waters circle my waist. I thrash toward door and run. But wanting is hard on my heels. Hunger just won’t cease . . . in my stomach or mind. |
