Poetic Forms & Their Uses
From a Former Anti-Form Poet
The Book of Forms by Lewis Turco is just that -- a resource of multiple forms and its origins. The book’s preface raves about poetic lineage stating, “our heritage is rich with forms.” While impossible to encompass all forms known to humankind, this statement piqued an interest that ties perfectly with my manuscript idea of familial and cultural history and identity: what are native Filipino forms?
There are two main types of Tanaga, which are the traditional versus the modern form. The traditional Tanaga follows a limitation that would make others think of the haiku; however, this form consists of four lines with seven syllables with each line. Another component the Tanaga follows, but does not require, is a rhyme scheme, such as AABB or ABAB. This form is finding its resurgence now. Because of this, there are not many Filipino poets specializing in this form yet. The “famous” writers cited for this form lived in the 16th century and during a time when Filipinos were attempting to prove Tagalog’s ability, as a language, to be used as “poetically” as other languages, such as Spanish. One aspect of the Tanaga up for debate is if a Tanaga can be referred to as a traditional Tanaga if it’s in a language not Tagalog.
For my MFA program, we’re tasked to write up to 5 poems in response to our reading. With these poems, we’re asked to consider what we learned from our reading and how we can incorporate it into our writing.
In this packet1, I’ve included my attempts at a traditional Tanaga and my interpretation of a “modern” version, “modern” meaning, to me, anything not within the rules of the traditional. Even in the traditional version, I’ve not written in Tagalog, as I believe this is a separate conversation on what “type” of Tagalog to use especially when colloquial Tagalog incorporates a sizeable amount of English. These debates continue indefinitely but it’s reassuring to a writer to have variety to a singular form. It helps to have rules to refer to along with the freedom to bend these rules to help fit the content into form.
Another technique mentioned in The Book of Forms is a poem in its Typographical level. I resonated deeply with using form to emphasize the content in the poem itself. The timing of this packet fell perfectly with the weather, as my friends in Los Angeles, California, experienced their first bout of a hurricane (which later downgraded to a tropical storm).
But from personal conversation to this reading of Turco, the poem, “I Would Rather Fight a Hurricane,” was born from a silly tier listing of things that are much worse than fighting a hurricane. While the form itself was easy to accomplish (centering the text on Google Docs), I realize that I need to learn how to use other programs to create differing forms, like the town square example in The Book of Forms. From this exercise, it also brought to my attention the intentionality that comes with writing the content of a poem to match its form. I had to sit and think: how do I take the reader on twists and turns, like a hurricane, while staying true to the narrative I’m trying to convey?
I used to be a person adamant against form. I felt stifled and restricted by all of these rules to make a poem that didn’t seem to work for my writing. However, in finding cultural connection and in finding different ways to have the form to support your poem’s content, I’ve found that following form can be a way of expression.
I didn’t include the poems this time around, as I’m still awaiting review and edits from my poetry mentor