A Frayed Red Thread, Linda
Jeannette Ward, Clinging Vine Press, P.O. Box 231 Coinjock, NC. 27923. 64 pages,
$12 postpaid.
Reviewed by
Marjorie Buettner
Minnesota, US
The enchantment of traditional tanka is its
refusal to reduce the beauty of language to a scattering of minimal words and
sparse syllabic count within the context of five lines -- all of which so called
“modern tanka” offers. Traditional tanka allows the music of the poetry to
resound within these extended syllables.
The content of the traditional tanka should not
be reduced to a minimal approach since the richness and romance of the language
would be compromised. I realize, however, these are fighting words, considering
the recent tendency toward minimal poetry in both tanka and haiku. I am
thankful, however, there are still writers (and readers) who will take the time
to enjoy the lyrical possibilities the more traditional tanka gives.
Linda Jeannette Ward’s A Frayed Red
Thread is a skillful example of the power of traditional tanka.
This collection, illustrated with the delicacy
of Jeanne Emrich‘s fine artwork, carries the reader through the intricacies of
the poet’s lyrical voice; we glimpse, as if spying upon secret lovers, the
intimacy inherent within each tanka:
how long, you ask
for another world to appear . . .
.....the length of one kiss
.....the time a raindrop travels
.....to pine needle’s tip
The exposure of such poetic sensibility is
heartbreakingly beautiful. Through the sequence of tanka the writer shares
her experiences of love found, love slipping away and finally love lost. They
are traditional themes which the poet explores sensitively; each image is fresh
and new.
restless night
dreaming of lost souls
my moonshadow
erases a web of branches
arrayed across your back
Here the poet, in the throes of new love, has a
premonition which allows the reader to see each following poem in a different
light, below the surface of its lovely language.
...............yesterday
....this tip of wisteria
barely touched this flower
...... . . now,
ensnared as I
.....in the vines of love
The topographical position of each line gives the
reader a hint at the depth of entanglement the poet has fallen or backed
into. Many of Ward’s poems live in the world of memory which the reader,
too, has the delight of sharing; it is almost as if this transmigration of
memory becomes déjà vu for the reader, too:
starry night
twinkling between cracked slats
of venetian blinds--
irresistible
this urge to rouse you
So immediately palpable is this moment Ward
shares with us. Now this:
...........I meant
to leave
your bed at moonrise
.......... . . tangled sheets
softened by its glow
melded my body into yours
The tanka (prodded by moonlight and the sound
of silk sheets) awakens a
sensual, pictorial image which is difficult for the reader to forget.
you have never told me
............your regrets . . .
through thickness of sultry night
..........rumbles of thunder
drawing closer
Again, the topographical layout of this tanka
allows the reader to glimpse a deeper meaning inherent within the poem. Like
regrets (appearing only in retrospect), the shift of lines back and forth shows
the poet vacillating between wondering what went wrong and when it went
wrong. Here is another beautifully rendered tanka which tells the reader
so much with so little:
at cock’s first crow
I leave my shade-drawn room
..... . . your hat and coat gone
....and now moonlight
has taken over the house.
In this symbolic
living-in-the-shadow-of-a-lost-love, one can feel the burden lying within this
poem.
All of us have been betrayed and, no doubt,
betray these promises of love. It is wonderful that Ward did not tell us
her emotions in this tanka but showed us with these images of false spring:
youthful betrayal
burned as blossoms
from early spring’s freeze . . .
withered, they fill crevices
in the old plum tree
After an affair of the heart, of course, the
line between memory before and after is easily discerned. So, too, this “frayed
red thread” denotes a division now of ends and not a connection of beginnings:
lining the inner spine
of love poems you left
a frayed red thread
adhering as stubbornly
as your memory
And how unexpectedly life turns to take its own
path--we need that lantern of wisdom to perceive the way:
carefully-built plans
of my life crumble
with each passing year
more and more of these dunes
fall away to the sea
To use “carefully-built” as a compound word
is a wonderfully intuitive touch. So life continues and in and out of love we
all abide:
awake tonight . . .
dreads and darkness dispelled
by fairy lights
of a thousand fireflies
i see, i am but stardust
This collection of tanka, however, is a
glimmering light -- as if “a thousand fireflies” were settling near. You can
see clear through to the heart with its light.
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