“All that matters is that I carry it.” He says to Randa. “But I admit I would like at least a hand in divining it. An old warrior’s pride, you see. Do you have any notions about such a poem?”
Kor grins at Morgan. “Very technical. You must know your haiku, as you have perfectly arranged the 17 syllables in the 5-7-5 pattern. Well done. But, if I may offer a critique, a true haiku must have layers of meaning. The very best must answer what, where, and when. Yours has two whats, a when, but no where. This is not technically incorrect, but it lacks that exceptional level of sophistication I am seeking. The when doesn’t have to be explicit; it may simply be imagery that suggests a time, such as a season. For example, a frog in the poem might indicate summer, while snow winter.
“The original haiku were called renga, which were collaborative and included the now more commonly used haiku in the 5-7-5 tercet, then were preceded or followed by a 7-7, 14 syllable couplet. The older style has fallen out of favor, as there is a beauty in the simplicity of the tercet alone and it is one you can do without collaboration, but don’t feel you must limit yourself to it. The old style has beauty too."
Kor shifts in his seat and his face grows grim.
"Too many fallen.
A tired arm, autumn breeze.
Barbed Fields, tasty tea."
He grins again holding up the teacup Dermot handed him. "Not all death poems need be without humor, eh?" He chuckles and reaches out to pinch Dermot playfully. Dermot grins and bears it, but he tenses up because, you know, personal space.
Brother Bombur does not notice anything lurking in the night, though he is most attentive and is certain he would see if there was anything to worry about.
"What, where, and when. I didn’t know that... I was just going by ear." Morgan smiles and jots down a few notes.
"I’ve got to work on it. I was trying to evoke the emotion of a survivor: in this land, only survivors grow old enough to see the autumn. And I liked the idea that there’s so much blood on his swords he can’t even use them anymore. They’re stuck." He pauses, thinking.
"I just… need to work on the ‘where,’ though… It shouldn't be hard..." and he starts mumbling and scribbling.
" My peoples poetry is exemplified by the 'pantun', pairing sampiran and isi into a complementary whole.", Jacaranda ventured.
" I do not know if it would suit but I have some favourites.....within my own language there are deeper meanings given by words and phrases that rhyme, support and alter those above and below...the translations will be lesser works by necessity."
DM: Brother Bombur, please give me a Perception Check.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
[22 perception]
Middle Grade Author
“All that matters is that I carry it.” He says to Randa. “But I admit I would like at least a hand in divining it. An old warrior’s pride, you see. Do you have any notions about such a poem?”
Kor grins at Morgan. “Very technical. You must know your haiku, as you have perfectly arranged the 17 syllables in the 5-7-5 pattern. Well done. But, if I may offer a critique, a true haiku must have layers of meaning. The very best must answer what, where, and when. Yours has two whats, a when, but no where. This is not technically incorrect, but it lacks that exceptional level of sophistication I am seeking. The when doesn’t have to be explicit; it may simply be imagery that suggests a time, such as a season. For example, a frog in the poem might indicate summer, while snow winter.
“The original haiku were called renga, which were collaborative and included the now more commonly used haiku in the 5-7-5 tercet, then were preceded or followed by a 7-7, 14 syllable couplet. The older style has fallen out of favor, as there is a beauty in the simplicity of the tercet alone and it is one you can do without collaboration, but don’t feel you must limit yourself to it. The old style has beauty too."
Kor shifts in his seat and his face grows grim.
"Too many fallen.
A tired arm, autumn breeze.
Barbed Fields, tasty tea."
He grins again holding up the teacup Dermot handed him. "Not all death poems need be without humor, eh?" He chuckles and reaches out to pinch Dermot playfully. Dermot grins and bears it, but he tenses up because, you know, personal space.
Brother Bombur does not notice anything lurking in the night, though he is most attentive and is certain he would see if there was anything to worry about.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
"What, where, and when. I didn’t know that... I was just going by ear."
Morgan smiles and jots down a few notes.
"I’ve got to work on it. I was trying to evoke the emotion of a survivor: in this land, only survivors grow old enough to see the autumn. And I liked the idea that there’s so much blood on his swords he can’t even use them anymore. They’re stuck."
He pauses, thinking.
"I just… need to work on the ‘where,’ though… It shouldn't be hard..." and he starts mumbling and scribbling.
" My peoples poetry is exemplified by the 'pantun', pairing sampiran and isi into a complementary whole.", Jacaranda ventured.
" I do not know if it would suit but I have some favourites.....within my own language there are deeper meanings given by words and phrases that rhyme, support and alter those above and below...the translations will be lesser works by necessity."
" Would you still hear them?"
"Major," shouted the Colonel! "This cannot be stood!
Send up the best of Criten Wood!
Up the hill forged the Squad, then over the crest to face
The Challenger with no disgrace.
Soon the sounds of battle heard just from over the hump
then THUMP THUMP THUMP Thump Thump thump!
The heads of the squad came rolling down the hill.
"I'm Staghelm of the Meadow," came the voice, "and I challenge you still!
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale