Kaki King - Kelvinator, Kelvinator
Skin by `ginkgografix
was the day I started working here!
Haiku, in the classical Japanese sense, is a small poem comprised of 17 characters known as on (sometimes onji). These characters each represent one unit of sound, and each unit of sound has its own meaning which then contributes to the overall haiku. The 17 on are split into phrases of 5, 7, and 5, which is where the most commonly known notion of the haiku in the modern world comes from.
However, what this fails to take into account when writing haiku in English is the fact that syllables are not particularly comparable to on. Although syllables are one unit of sound the same way on are, syllables in English do not have full meanings of their own the way that on do. Because of this, English haiku has generally moved toward overall brevity, rather than sticking to a syllabic structure.Read more:
Regarding subject matter, haiku generally focuses on elements of nature, while senryu (which has the same structure as haiku and is generally quite similar, when it comes to English) focuses more on human nature. These are both very broad statements, however, as haiku can often incorporate elements of human nature, and senryu can include natural elements as well. It is frequent to see a mixture of both elements within one poem, and because of this, it is not uncommon to see haiku and senryu displayed together in collections, rather than separately.
ochikaeru deai to wakare hana no shita.
Again and again we meet and part under the sakura blossoms.
Senryu Series 111.
choosing the devil
her parents question
the kids unpack
another old knot
I add more spice
to the ramen
available on Itunes
job well done
from the boss...
from the army
the poor section
we let the youngest
Tanka is another form of poetry built using on, and in many ways it resembles haiku and senryu insomuch as tanka will generally begin by focusing on an image and then turn to the emotion or thought of the speaker, or vice versa. Tanka are traditionally comprised of 31 on, with the first phrase having 5 on, the second 7, the third 5, and the fourth and fifth having 7. From the English standpoint, this is (much like haiku) commonly mistranslated as meaning 5-7-5-7-7 as a strict syllabic rule per line, but once again, because syllables are not equivalent to on, it's generally more prudent to focus on brevity, rather than syllable count.
Death is perhaps 3死はたぶんずっと背負った妹かしら
Death is perhaps my sister I was carrying on my shoulders.
She stands and says that it's her turn to carry me.
One Last Star no moon to be found
in the predawn twilight,
but one last star —
somewhere in the distance
a robin's lilting call
A common technique in tanka that may or may not be present in haiku/senryu is a pivot point, usually (though not necessarily) occurring in the third line of the poem, which juxtaposes the image being presented in the poem with the emotion being presented in the poem. When done correctly, a pivot point will often connect the two sections of the poem through a contrast of idea or image.Read more:
Apocalyptic Mantraseals drawn to
floating in the tide
crossing clothes lines
between the lofts
breath of prayers
still warm in the drifts
of cold war
on a midnight mission
nothing left to regret
of a toxic horse
Autumn Haiku Renga - with Jade(a collaboration with John & Jade)
captured in bishop's weed,
of gypsy moths
amidst a scattering of leaves
one flaps its wings
the bellows wheeze-
wind stripping the old tree
in one day
raked into a pile
the crackle of flames-
dried leaves hurling by
glinting on my windshield-
mist aspiring to rain
where each drop lands-
through a veil
parted by zephyrs,
the past few days
a full moon
engorged for winter
Spirit Day is ComingSpirit Day
Save the date! Spirit Day is Friday, October 19th! Which means you can show your support for the LGBT community by doing a number of things, from raising awareness through articles, artwork, literature or simply sporting the team colors on and/or offline. What colors?
The color that represents Spirit Day is purple! Which brings us to the challenge portion of Spirit Day!
The Purple Challenge
The Purple Challenge is simple, go one day (October 19th) using only one color during your daily adventure on deviantART: purple. Here are some places you can pimp out the color purple:
Your avatar. Use a simple photo editing program to temporarily turn your avatar purple.
A featured deviation on your page.
A collection of purple deviations.
Use only purple emoticons!
In journal sk
Why Spirit Day Is Not EnoughPreface
This essay was written in October of 2010 after DeviantART released this article supporting the Spirit Day movement to bring awareness to LGBT bullying.
I wrote it because there were so many comments on the official article that were defaming to one group or another that I felt the true issue had been lost in the rhetoric. The point of Spirit Day is to show solidarity and compassion for your fellow human beings. Not gay or straight or ill or handicapped - those categories don't matter. We're just humans, each flawed and each perfect. Spirit Day was an attempt to remind us of that.
I was confronted with two major arguments to this e
Spirit DaySpirit Day is coming! On Friday 19th October, the world goes purple in support of the fight against sexuality related bullying. ^NicSwaner already posted a great article about Spirit Day and how you can participate
There is also a category specially for Spirit Day related deviations, in Community Projects > Awareness. You can already submit to the Spirit Day 2012 category - so collect your favourite art tools and show your support
Thanks to the groups shown to the right for requesting to submit this journal
Two Red Marionettesand so they tell you that they understand
in that sharp and bright voice they have
that is brisk
like a nurse's shadow
about the blood and the moon
the pale and lonely knuckle
that afternoon that
patti left her favourite sandals under the porch
for two autumns and
how it will continue, dear,
to strip pieces away from you day
after day, to fall
away from you like yellowing leaves
long after the wet scream of your eyes
they don't tell you their names,
the ones only you knew they had
when you close your eyes and try to dream
like a grieving wolf
chasing rabbits into the sea
before their tiny pulses ceased to swel
the Chandler's Around the WayThe hose slipped out again. Chan cursed, and shoved it back into the incision he'd made, adjusted his mask, and bent over the pump. He yanked the cord, and the pump started to life with a cough of biodiesel. It bounced on the sand as it grumbled away. Chan kept one hand on it and held the hose in place with the other.
If fucking Fathers would spend the bone on a new one, I wouldn't be all night at this, Chan grumbled. He ached for a smoke, but didn't have the hands to spare. Plenty of hands here, he thought as he glanced at the riverbank. Some of them even had a pulse.
"Hey," he said to whoever was closest.
It was a sunbather. A walker who drew enough bone to slot time on the beach without having to fight for it. She had each arm draped around a man, both of them tattooed in the same place with the same sigil. Chan was jealous. Someday he'd have his own numbers, but they'd be women. All of them. He was old-fashioned like that.
The walker answered without raising her sungl
You've Been Looking at Virtues, All WrongYou've Been Looking at the Virtues of Child, Man, and Woman All Wrong
In the end we're all myths, hermaphroditic deities.
Our names are the most real things about us.
i. My mother named me for the Virgin
and I carry her legacy in my blood
she is my spirit animal; the creature
who crawled first across the placenta line
outside my home. In truth, I imagine all
The New Justice James forgot the milk again.
This was nothing new. In fact, he regularly forgot things: his wallet, the milk, he'd even forgotten their marriage license on that magical day some twelve years prior. On any other day, Angela might have laughed it off before slipping on her shoes and heading to the stores. Today it made her furious. She watched, her lips pressed into a hard, thin line as he trudged for there was no other word that could describe the slow, stoop-shouldered stride up the wal
Saving the Angels, Smiting the Demons His hands were covered in blood. The steering wheel, the back seat, it seemed that it would never wash out. That everything would always carry that rusty hue, the coppery scent, no matter how many times he scrubbed and washed and sprayed.
But it was all right. At least she was clean. Pure, innocent, perfect. She was in the passenger seat, leaned up against the door, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. He smiled. It had been a long day for both of them, but she needed the sleep more than he did. He would let her rest.
Time ticked by, and he drove through t
02:21 AMI can remember us still
cups in refrigerators.
I had never met another, who
their coffee cold.
we would laugh at their misery, but
ease their pain
and place them together.
the pretense of their feelings
it was of course a lie
as the feelings
we still dislike to say it.
perhaps to masquerade
the unpleasant essence, but
we fell in love over cold coffee
and yet it appears fitting now
winter has dawned upon us
I pretend I'm the one with feelings
we still take our coffees cold
we have stopped placing the cups together.
and no longer do we dare to
I Think I Am A PoetI think I am a poet, or at least perhaps
could be; the serene
prozac-prophet with sad words and
a white halo of bees. I am told I am a woman but
I hold my smile too carefully, like cracked glass.
I tug at my dress when it clings to my hips,
and my frown is too bright. I know I am a kicker
and a screamer, feral slurred bird stuck on her soap-box
But I would so much rather curl up,
disappear quietly into the golden eye, never make
a sound again -- I know I am not a mother
When I spread my dead children fanned
across the soft tablecloth of my heart,
place them delicately
as if they could break; my precious tiny
SelfA head full of whispers,
six empty pages, a simple beating heart,
and in a moment of agony,
I realise all great acts
that are needed,
in order to be worthy
of living in this world,
are beyond my abilities
and beyond my courage.
There Are Always AlternativesI looked up the synonyms -
pang, throb, anguish, misery
none quite adequate
affliction is closer, better defined
providing shape to the problem
psychologists don't want to solve
because, as popular opinion holds,
grief is precious, makes us human
and we can't dull it away
can't forget to mark the movement of planets
in a universe lacking pertinence,
can't smash all the clocks to avoid
that truculent ticking
no, the psychologists say,
we must suffer through it
must bear the herculean weight
with neither pills nor promise of relief
so we seek comfort in Johnny
or Jack or José, sometimes
a Captain named Morgan
we substitute addiction for attachment
and defy any to rectify the error
and when it comes again
there's the thesaurus to offer
alternative avenues of address
for the deep and abiding ache.