Julie Anne Thorndyke

Julie is an Australian tanka poet of international repute. We met on Facebook recently and while searching her work online I turned up a few delights which I have listed below.

 FYI "Tanka is Japan's oldest poetry form. Traditionally a tanka has five lines with 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. In English some count syllables and some just have short-long-short-long-long lines. If you know haiku, you know half of a tanka. Unlike haiku, tanka encourage feelings and emotions."

Altas Poetica has some great examples of Tanka including one of Julie's.

Some more tanka here
and in the Australian tanka journal Eucalyptus.

Here is a haibun by Julie called  The Receptionist .
What is haibun you may ask?  (Apart from being my favorite literary form) it is a kind of descriptive prose punctuated by haiku, made famous by the Japanese poet Basho. Find out more here.

Read about Julie Thorndyke's most recent tanka collection Carving Granite.

‘Each carefully crafted poem in this collection blends sensitivity with realism.Julie Thorndyke writes with an original and spirited voice that addresses contemporary themes, while paying due regard to tanka traditions.’ - Beverley George, Editor Eucalypt: a tanka journal

‘In this new collection, Julie Thorndyke demonstrates her mastery of the short form poetry we know as tanka. She has an innate sense of rhythm in her writing and, with her skilled use of figurative language, brings us moments that sometimes defy interpretation yet pierce to the bone.’ - Carole MacRury, Secretary/Treasurer, Tanka Society of America

 ‘Julie Thorndyke's second tanka collection more than fulfils the promise of her first, rick rack. In Carving Granite she reveals the light and shade of her world.’ - Amelia Fielden, poet and translator

 My favorite book of haibun is John Brandi Water Shining Beyond Fields which I found while travelling in Cambodia. His haibun were about all the places I was travelling to and it became my perfect travelling companion.

There's much more haiku, haibun, tanka, renga online.
Thanks Julie for reminding us.

Violetta Simatupang

Violetta wrote poetry in secret for many years out of fear her work would be compared with that of her father, noted Indonesian novelist Iwan Simatupang, who died when Violetta was very young. She was 'outed' when a friend, to her sent her work to Kompas newspaper who published it to acclaim. She has since published two books of poems Anak-anak Vampir  and Chrysalis on a Rafflesia : 60 Selected Poems ; rendered into English by Kadek Khrisna Adidharma, Rasus Budhyono (avail at National Library). She has been a guest poet at a number of festivals including Utan Kayu International Literary Biennale 2009 and Winternachten 2008 (Nederlands, South Africa).
Violetta joined Writer's Journey in 2012 for our Bali Long Writing Weekend. She lives in Bandung, Indonesia and you  can read some of her poems below and more here. 

 

At the gas station toilet, begging Kitari

Come on Kitari,
Apologize. Your shoe touched its feet

A bucketful of water you threw by the well
splattered annoying a pair of water-sprites
paws as gruesome as man-eating crocodiles
from the refracted light you can see jaws
of a thousand teeth

Is your nape not pierced by standing hair
And a segment of your left arm growing goosebumps
Try examine those eyes
So empty. So dead. So concave
like eyes of blind creatures

Do you not feel the flame of another presence
in this small toilet – demonic
It seems to have found an unyielding enemy
following you all the way home

Kitari,
Its feet are a little sore because your new shoes
touched it in the manner of sucking painful marrow
incense herbs fish-heads in panacea. It is
haphazardly hurrying gliding
seeking another toilet

But beforehand it demands your apologies
for your shoe touching its bare feet
Come on Kitari. Just this once.
Please!

Lost on paradise isle

Paradise isle, surrounded by a sea-like marsh
a gliding boat was swallowing
saline and brackish water in turn
roots clasping like gigantic claws
a euphony luring on the luminous sand

Walking along its coast I was stranded in the middle
Of a lagoon of mud that sucked me
down its whirl

one of my sandals was dragged
i heard faint shouts of souvenir hawkers promising morning prices
i reached my tongue slowly for them
the guides kept on shouting
further off they sailed on dugout canoes
lost amidst the scattered sea chignons and heaven

Released from the marshy trap
i trod along an earthy path
a centipede and an iguana on a bivouac
a ray of paradise drew me
to a tourist-crowded canal bank. An artist, two, three medics
encircled me like fruit flies or my other self.

In my deep exhaustion a pair of sea-eagle eyes
brought me to a dugout canoe
drifting away unsteered
to accost the swelling of death

Love Fume

whilst waltzing towards the purple moon

here's a bowl of lavender tea

swallow it up, tactfully

mulberry chill. Voila!

afternoon revealed

honeymoon concealed

from Violetta Simatupang on Poem Hunter

Violetta Simatupang