SEDOKA............
INTRODUCTION & SELECTIONS
John Daleiden, US

 

Sedoka: A Definition   Sedoka is a Japanese verse form written by a single author. The classical sedoka is found in Manyoshu, Collection of 10,000 Leaves. This collection of poems was compiled late in the 8th century; it contains only 60 examples of sedoka among the more than 4,000 poems written by members of the Imperial family, court ladies and nobles, frontier guards (sakimon), etc. The available English translation is called The Ten Thousand Leaves. Sedoka is a 6 line poem containing two units called katauta. A sedoka has 5-7-7-5-7-7 onji; each katauta contains a turn, or change of direction. The turn at the end of line 3 is sharp, and the turn at the end of line 5 is gentle. Generally, the two halves of the poem focus on variations of the same subject but offer different perspectives. Sedoka are often composed as folk ballads. They can be mood poems, similar to tanka, or they can tell stories in the manner of a song.

 

Letters Left Behind

I meant to write you
this note saying I must leave
you for the woman I love
there are no words. . . 
I kept the note
to explain the emptiness


“When you return home
from market remember to
feed the goldfish—love. . .”
. . . . . . . .I left behind
a sticky note 
on the cupboard door.

In the day’s noon mail
the scent of lavender
my name in fine bold letters.
For ten days unread
inside your words proclaim hurt
because I love another.

Outside the white house
two police cars, lights flashing,
four uniformed officers— 
I saw you in court today, 
all right seized, no one— 
some one gleans a profit.

Oh love, hurt and blind
close your eyes and dumbly race
into the empty sunset.
Never look behind 
to see what might have been—
soar swiftly into dawn—

In Your Absence I write Sedoka... 

I write sedoka
to tell you how my love grows
even in your short absence.
Since you went away
two bright red roses have bloomed—
your cat brought home a rabbit.

This morning the rain
left wet puddles on the lawn—
wind damaged the cherry tree.
The afternoon sun
dried the grass and I pruned
the minor garden damage.

Did you know actress
Anne Bancroft passed on Monday,
a youngster—seventy-three.
Thank you for phoning
to let me know you’ll be home on
Saturday for the Art Fair.

I must end this note—
the red rose in the white vase
dropped several petals today.
I place two inside—
write your name and lick the stamp
speeding my letter to you.

Out in the June sky
I see your face in the clouds
of the setting sun just now.
I pause in the dark—
on the horizon full moon
casts your shape to stand near me.

 

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