Don't Muzzle the Ghazal

The Process of Canonization

Joshua Gage's comment on "Canon Fire" gives a good look at how the ghazal is faring in English. (I wonder how many of the few ghazals he sees are Persian or free in form, and if any are Arabic.) Those of us who believe the ghazal can be an important form in poetry in English have to keep advocating and keep writing ghazals and publishing them.

There is a long ways to go. I'm teaching creative writing this semester. For poetry, I use Creating Poetry by John Drury (Writer's Digest Books, 1991). I've used it as a text before; Drury provides good, basic information and advice on a variety of issues related to poetry. However.

However, his material on the ghazal is very inadequate. The book hasn't been revised since 1991, and much more is now available about the ghazal than then. Drury focuses on the ghazals by Adrienne Rich and Jim Harrison — accomplished poems, of course, but working only one possibility of the form. He does advise using the same rhyme throughout, a reference to the qafiya, I suppose. One could do worse than starting with Drury's description of the ghazal, but it would be nice to see the book updated.

As side comment, Drury's account of the haiku is very inaccurate. In 1991, even, much better information on the haiku in English was available. He doesn't understand the difference between haiku and senryu and the only genuine English haiku he cites are Jack Kerouac's. Etheridge Knight and Richard Wilbur are both excellent poets, but the poems they chose to call "haiku" simply aren't.

For more on haiku, see the Haiku Society of America's definition and AHA Poetry's material on haiku. (Their information on tanka, sijo, and ghazal is good also.)

Canon Fire

Poet and critic Anthony Hecht makes a brief comment on the canonization of poetic forms that we might apply to the ghazal. The comment occurs in Hecht's essay, "The Sonnet: Ruminations on Form, Sex, and History." The second section, "The Form," begins

As any form becomes canonical, it invites experimentation, variation, violation, alteration.

from Melodies Unheard, 2003, p. 53

Hecht goes on to briefly mention sonnet variations by Gerard Manley Hopkins, Elizabeth Bishop, Mona Van Duyn, and Rimbaud. Many others could be listed.

The application to the ghazal's migration into English is obvious. I take Hecht's remark to be historic and descriptive, not a stated goal. The open question is, "Has the ghazal become canonical in English?" If so (or if when), how will we know? What do you think?

My thanks to Steffen Horstmann for pointing out this essay. Hecht's critical essays are well worth reading.

From Arabic to Persian to German to English

One thing that has been missing in the discussion of the ghazal in English is a clear, objective account of its history. Now, on a small scale, David Jalajel has supplied that history. His account is relatively brief but satisfyingly detailed, answering many questions and, inevitably, raising others. His "short history" is well-sourced, with a bibliography that provides entry points even for those of us who are monoglot in English.

One question that I've found an answer to in David's essay: Is the ghazal defined more as a form (genre) or as a theme?

In its origins in Arabian poetry, the ghazal was formally the same as other Arabian poems and characterized by the theme of "dalliance." Ghazal is variously defined as talking, or flirting, with women, or as longing, and came thematically to be the expression of romantic, erotic, or mystic longing.

Read a few of the poems on The Ghazal Page and you'll soon see a much wider variety of themes. The discussion--not to say, controversy--about the ghazal's entry into English poetry has focused on form, a topic that David covers very well in the last part of his short history. Having the privilege of publishing this essay, I naturally endorse it. I hope that you will read it and discover your own response.

Please take some time to read the half-dozen new ghazals in the November issue of The Ghazal Page; and don't forget the "clouds and rain" radif challenge.

A Radif Challenge

First, here's a book recommendation; the challenge is based on an article in it. Reorientations/Arabic and Persian Poetry. Edited by Suzanne Pinckney Stetkevych and published by Indiana University Press in 1994. David Jalajel recommended this book to me largely because of the article, "The Rise and Fall of a Persian Refrain," by Franklin D. Lewis. In this article, Lewis traces the rise in popularity of the radif "fire and water" ("atash u ab"). Lewis describes how poets used a radif in a number of poems, showing their skill and wit. Eventually, of course, a specific radif declines in use.

Lewis's article suggested a challenge to me; the challenge is to write a ghazal using a set radif.

I will provide a radif and challenge poets to use it in a Persian-style ghazals of five to twelve shers. Then I will choose several submitted ghazals using the refrain and publish them in the April 2008 Issue of The Ghazal Page.

• Deadline: February 14, 2008
• Radif: clouds and rain
• Format: a Persian ghazal with five to twelve shers
• Limit: no more than three ghazals per poet
• Prize: publication of any accepted poems in The Ghazal Page
• Submission: Use the link below to submit a ghazal if you wish

use this link to submit a ghazal

This challenge will also appear on The Ghazal Page soon and, if you're in my mailing list, your should see it in your email box soon. I hope to see so many good "clouds and rain" ghazals that I can use them in a double issue.

"Musicality in Verse," Part 2

The previous entry on this topic discussed consonants. This entry discusses vowels.

I've posted a new page, "A Game for Your Ears," which applies these ideas. The game is an exercise I wrote for my creative writing classes.

Consonants are formed by altering the flow of breath, stopping it, making it hiss, directing it through the nose, and so on. Consonants are formed in different parts of the mouth (& nose); some are voiced, others not.

Vowels are formed also by altering the flow of breath at specific points in the mouth, using positions of the lower jaw, the lips, and the tongue. Vowels are not stopped or subjected to friction. Vowels are voiced unless one is whispering. Vowels are defined, like consonants, by "minimal pairs": two words which differ only in one sound. The difference defines both vowels as phonemes (meaningful sounds) in that language.

For instance, "pit" and "pat" define the minimal pair, /i, a/. The inconsistencies of English spelling mean one has to actually pronounce the words to hear the vowel. The phonemic alphabet for transcribing English is fairly straightforward for consonants, needing only a few non-alphabet symbols; transcribing vowels requires more special symbols. For those interested in more specific information, antimoon.com presents English phonemes with corresponding symbols.

Disclaimer: One does not need to know the phonemic alphabet or be able to transcribe English into that alphabet in order to write good poetry. What one needs is a good ear for the language.

Kenneth Burke shows us how sets of consonants, such as m - n - b - p - d - t - f - v, can create the music of a poem. Burke doesn't discuss vowels, merely quoting Coleridge to suggest that consonants are primary. So, what about vowels? Vowels can not be organized in sets as Burke does the consonants. Vowels are grouped by linguists into front, middle, and back, and into high, mid, and low — relative positions in the mouth. Here's sentence illustrating the front vowels:

"He will wed her." In order, the vowels are high front, mid front, low front, and then a mid vowel (an "r-colored schwa"). These vowels aren't related in the way that, for instance, the consonants in "Many bold friends told of Paris." Yet the sequence — the flow — of vowels is obviously essential to the music of a poem.

I don't believe that poems, good poems, begin in calculation. A good poems begins in intuition, in a hunch that a sequence of words, an experience, an idea, a feeling is worth writing about. The sounds, along with the other elements of the poem follow from that hunch (inspiration, if you will). Conscious thought enters in revision, is not part of the initial vision.

By way of a closing example, here are the first two couplets of Brandy Bauer's "Ghazal (Kabul)," from the July 2007 issue of The Ghazal Page. She uses both consonants and vowels very effectively.

A bleak season arrived when I alit at Kabul.
Plunged into nothingness, a skeleton, this Kabul.

Here in the street, festering water and dust.
Whose fires now choke the qanats of Kabul?

I won't do detailed analysis of these lines; you will be rewarded by reading them aloud carefully. Note the subtle, and effective, relationship of "arrived" and "alit" in the first line or of "street" and "festering" in the third line.

I plan to return to this topic soon. If you have comments, including examples, please send them along.

 

"Musicality in Verse"

The title of this post is the title of an essay by Kenneth Burke, a great literary theorist and philosopher. Burke's contributions have been somewhat overshadowed, perhaps, by the dominance of postmodernism for a numbe of years. Burke just wasn't fashionable. A Google search on "Kenneth Burke" produced a gratifying number of hits that look good. I'll provide only the University of Minnesota site linked above from his name.

The essay this post is based on, "Musicality in Verse," appears in Burke's The Philosophy of Literary Form, Louisiana State University Press, second edition, 1967. In the post, I put Burke's insights into my own words with my own examples. The topic is significant enough for working poets that I may follow it up in a later post. I highly recommend that you get Burke's essay, if possible, and read it.

Burke's main point is this: some speech-sounds closely resemble others, differing only in one or two features. These speech-sounds form sets and are used by poets as they use alliteration. Burke calls these patterns "concealed alliteration by cognates." Sounds in the middle or at the end of words also count as part of this approach.

Every language's sound system consists of phonemes — speech-sounds that make a difference in the meaning of words. Phonemes are defined by "minimal pairs": two words with different meanings in which the only sound difference is the pair of sounds being defined.

A common example is the two English words "bit" and "pit." These words differ only in the /b/ and the /p/ sounds, so they define /b, p/ as phonemes in English. Both /b/ and /p/ are made by stopping the flow of breath with the lips and then releasing it. The difference is that /b/ is voiced and /p/ is unvoiced. When you say "b," your vocal chords vibrate (unless you're whispering); thus, /b/ is voiced. You hear these differences or you couldn't understand English. Try saying both "bit" and "pit" with your hands over your ears. You will hear the buzzing of your vocal chords on the /b/ but not the /p/.

Webster's 1913 dictionary has this example in its definition of "alliteration":

Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheaved His vastness. – Milton.

The /b/ and /v/ alliterations in this line are obvious. Less obvious to one's analysis, although obvious to one's ear are the b, p. and v cognate alliterations. (I'm dropping the slashes, used to mark phonemes.) V is alliteratively cognate with both b and p because of its phonemic features: it is made with the upper lip and lower teeth and is voiced. The unvoiced -th in "Behemoth" and "earth" also alliterate cognately with v (lips and tongue). The medial /g/ in "biggest" is also part of this group of cognate sounds.

Milton's play with vowels are also important to the effect of this line (which is, remember, out of context). I won't go into vowels now, so I definitely will discuss this topic again.

Poets Online — Ghazal Archive

Among other topics related to ghazals and to poetry more generally, I will comment on relevant Web sites. The first of these is the ghazal archive of Poetry Online.

The first thing you'll notice about the Poets Online Ghazal Archive is the brown text on a white background. On my Macbook, at least, this color combination makes reading a little difficult. But only a little.

The archive begins with a paragraph defining/describing ghazals. Essentially, this paragraph defines the Persian ghazal and repeats the usual misinformation that the ghazal began in Persian, when it began in Arabic, as David Jalajel shows.The author couldn't have known about the Arabic ghazal, however, since it has been difficult for us monoglot English speakers to get detailed information about the ghazal. The opening paragraph also provides some brief information on Adrienne Rich and ghazals. A second, brief paragraph provides links to some other sources — actually, books for sale on Amazon.

The ghazals that follow use various forms: some radif, some qafiya and radif, one rhyming couplets, and a couple no rhyme (what can be called "free ghazals"). I'm going to quote a few shers here, but you really should visit the archive and read all the ghazals in their entirety. It will be worth your while.

from "Ghazal"
by Laura Shovan

Late summer an unexpected crop:  beans veiled by hand-shaped leaves.
I lift one veil: green leaves, green vine, the bean a hidden lover.

The imagery in the sher above is especially rich. Read the whole ghazal and see how she carries it through.

from "Parent Versus Child Ghazal"
by Catherine M. LeGault

We drink and smoke away our leisure-time as couch-
potatoes; and we wonder why our children slouch.

The enjambment between lines works very well and recalls what David Jalajel says about enjambment in the Arabic ghazal; this would be enjambment between the first and second hemistiches.

from "Ghazal at the Equinox"
by Lianna Wright

At the waterline, the taste of salt, sound of water,
feel of cold autumn, the sight of my daughter.

The shortening daylight makes me think
that the plant's turning sunward is even sadder.

The rhymes — qafiya — work nicely here. Perhaps it is "microrhyme" on "-er."

I hope posts like this one will extend the conversation on the ghazal in English and its possible forms.

Enjambment in Arabic Poetry

On The Ghazal Page, I've just posted an essay on enjambment in Arabic poetry by David Jalajel. This essay explains the ways in which Arabic poets have used enjambment between bayts (long lines) and at the caesura, the pause in the middle of the bayt. (The caesura is where there'd be a line-break if the bayt is presented as a couplet.

I hope you'll find this essay rewarding. I have.

How Many Kinds of Ghazal?

I first learned about the ghazal over ten years ago, from a short note in a little magazine. The only information was that a ghazal is a series of couplets that are independent of each other. Not long after that, a friend sent me a copy of Poetry Pilot, with Agha Shahid Ali's advocacy of the "real" ghazal. As it turned out, Shahid advocated the Persian ghazal. We who try to write ghazals in English owe him a real debt: he clarified and focused our understanding of the ghazal form.

We English speaking and writing still don't know enough about the ghazal's form in the various cultures in which it developed and flourished. David Jalajel's presentations of Arabic forms are a valuable addition to our knowledge. There's surely more to learn about the ghazal in other languages and cultures. The Urdu ghazal seems very close to the Persian, with an exception that a ghazal can develop a single theme. Harsangeet Kaur Bullar's essay on the ghazal in India and Pakistan defines the nazm and qita for that tradition. A nazm is a ghazal that develops a single theme, and a qita is a group of couplets within a ghazal that is thematically unified. Her essay also discusses the place of the ghazal in Indian cinema.

So what's the answer to the question that titles this post? I cannot answer it definitively. Bullar mentions several other Indian languages in which the ghazal as found a form. For instance, Sukhdarshan Dhaliwal, who has two ghazals in the August 2007 issue of The Ghazal Page, has published collections of ghazals in Punjabi. (The August issue will be online by August 1 GMT.)

My tentative answer at this point: we English ghazalkars may benefit from thinking of two distinct ghazal forms, the Persian and the Arabic. I'm convinced that, if the ghazal becomes a truly English form of poetry, it will have features that distinguish it from any of the traditions for which it derives.

"Why, That Don't Rhyme!"

Questions of rhyme arise every time we seize the end of a line in our teeth and shake it for relief.

Or something.

Years ago, teaching in the Missouri State Prison, I read the class a poem from the textbook. I've forgotten the poem, something British I think, but I've never forgotten the student who said, "I don't like poetry that don't rhyme." The poem did rhyme; he just didn't hear the rhymes as I read. These inmates were intelligent, articulate men, too, but I didn't hammer each rhyme as I read.

For many people, poetry is that form of discourse that rhymes. No rhyme = no poem.

The weave of sounds in a poem is much more subtle than the clanging of obvious rhymes. (Okay, that's pejorative: good rhymes don't clang.) However, the play of sounds that are closely related, the patterns of alliteration, assonance, consonance, and shifts in stress make a good poem much more subtle than the scansion one might render in a simple, abstract notation of weak - strong syllables and end-rhymes.

For instance, here's the notation for an iambic pentameter rhyming couplet:

    x / | x / | x / | x / | x / A
    x / | x / | x / | x / | x / A

            (x = unstressed, / = stressed, | marks the boundaries of the feet, A is the poor old rhyme.)

What does that tell you? It could analyze any poem written in this form; this kind of notation is so abstract it obscures the concrete actuality of a poem.

The ghazal is essentially a form of rhyming poetry, although an unrhymed ghazal is possible (or so I think). Surprisingly, there's a question as to what counts as a rhyme. Friday evening, 13 July, The Ghazal Page published an essay on rhyme by David Jalajel: The Arabic Qâfiyah & English Rhyme – The Use of "Microrhyme" for Adapting Arabic Poetic Forms into English. I'm not going to summarize here what David says, but I strongly recommend his essay, along with another by him. These essays deal with concrete details of Arabic poetics and explores how they may be used in English ghazals.

I plan to post more on rhyme and sound-patterns. In the meantime, seize the line in your teeth and shake it until it sings.