Showing posts with label titling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label titling. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2026

To the Lighthouse: The Impact of an Allusive Title

The Winter of Our Discontent

Its edges browned with age, another photograph, long buried beneath piles of boxes, has come to light in recent days.

His eyes meet the camera head-on. His hand rests at the curve of a young girl’s hip.

the man, once a prince
hid behind purple curtains ...
now cuffed in cold steel


This sociopolitically conscious haibun is inspired by Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, formerly known as Prince Andrew, being arrested by UK police over Jeffrey Epstein ties.

The title, "The Winter of Our Discontent," is a famous allusion to the opening lines of William Shakespeare’s Richard III. It adds several layers to the piece: 

Themes of Villainy: 

In Shakespeare, the phrase is spoken by a character who resolves to be a "villain" because he feels excluded from a peaceful world. This subtly labels the man in the photograph as a predator or villain.


Moral Decay: 

The title also alludes to John Steinbeck’s novel of the same name, which explores the erosion of ethical standards and personal integrity. This aligns with the theme of a hidden, dark past coming "to light".


Irony and Timing:

Shakespeare’s original line (Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York) refers to the end of a dark time. Using it here suggests that the "winter" of secrecy and suffering for the victim is finally over because the perpetrator is now "cuffed"


For more about titling, See my "To the Lighthouse" posts: "The Title of a Poem Should Never Be Ignored,"  "The Art of Titling," and "Effective Use of a Run-on Title"


FYI:  See The New York Times, Feb. 19 2026: Live Updates: Former Prince Andrew Arrested in Britain Over Epstein Ties

And "The Winter of Our Discontent" is a sequel to my gembun below:

In a 2011 email to Ghislaine Maxwell, “… that dog that hasn’t barked is Trump.”

a pink-haired girl
seen through a telescope
of age-spotted hands



Added: Trump Empire, Inc, LXXVI
inspired by a viral social media prompt:The U.K. just arrested a royal. Is the U.S. capable of the same?


The Next One

My boy lines the dominoes along the coffee table’s edge, their lacquered backs blinking ivory in the lamplight, and nudges the first with his forefinger.

In the armchair, I grip the remote, the blue glare of the television flickering against my tired eyes as a news ticker scrolls the arrest of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor.

King Charles III’s words, “the law must take its course,” hang in the air like dust in the living room as I switch off the TV. I stand for a moment, facing the window, where the last of the light thins along the fence line.

the White House
shadowed against the sky
crow after crow ...

Friday, August 15, 2025

To the Lighthouse: Effective Use of a Run-on Title

A run-on title is a phrase in the title space that starts a grammatical unit in the following poem text.

For example, my tanka prose below:


Sunflowers deepen into the soil 

striving to live.

more war news ...
weeding the flower bed
I don't feel deserving
of this small plot of earth,
an Eden of sorts 

Will these sunflowers flourish in this place I've claimed as my “own?”

Ribbons, 18:3, Fall 2022


The title, "Sunflowers deepen into the soil," is a run-on title, that segues into the brief opening prose:  "striving to live." When evaluated in the context of the Russian invasion of Ukraine as implied from L1 of the tanka, the opening prose can be used to describe both "sunflowers," intended to remind readers that they are the national flowers of Ukraine, in the title and the "I" in the tanka, one that conveys a feeling of guilt about the speaker's own relative good fortune when there's an ongoing war elsewhere.

And the concluding prose/question enhances this feeling of guilt by challenging the legitimacy/certainty of claiming for one's exclusive use any bit of this planet we share (in this place I've claimed as my “own?”) in a time of war with global consequences.

The use of a run-on title connects the fate of Ukrainians and the guilt of the speaker.

Another example, 


It is always three o'clock in the morning

day after day.

the ghostly past
lurking around the corner
of my mind ...
with a scalpel of words
I stab into its heart

However, my immigrant past is never ...dead -- gone and forgotten. It is not even past. 

Distressed and alone by the bedroom window, in the wake of a dream about a Taiwan blue magpie disappearing into the dark forest, I hear Time passing in the sound of snow.

Ribbons, 19:1, Winter 2023
contemporary haibun, 19, 2024
(annual anthology showcasing a state-of-the-art selection of haibun, tanka prose, and haiga from journals around the world)


The title, It is always three o'clock in the morning, can work as a run-on title because it, along with the opening prose, alludes to the following:

In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.

-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Crack-Up"

The use of a run-on title makes the "dark night of the soul" allusion effective, adding emotional weight and psychological depth to the poem.


To conclude today's post, I would like to share with you the shortest haibun I've ever written.

Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCXVI: "Christ's thorns"

Smoky fireball

after smoky fireball ... the weight of this hushed silence.

a skeletal house
amid debris and pot shards
Christ's thorns


FYI: "According to a religious legend, the crown of thorns worn by Jesus Christ at the crucifixion was made from the stems of this plant, euphorbia milii , also known as Christ's thorn, a pretty succulent plant that can bloom almost year-round, even indoors."

Haaretz, August 16, 2025: 'They Need a Nakba' | Former IDF General Calls Palestinian Death Toll in Gaza 'Necessary' in Recording

The former Israeli military intelligence chief said the high number of Palestinians killed in Gaza is "necessary for future generations," according to recordings broadcast Friday on Israel's Channel 12 News.

In the recordings, Maj. Gen. (res.) Aharon Haliva can be heard saying that "50 Palestinians should die" for every victim of Hamas' attack on southern Israel on October 7, 2023. "There's no choice, they need a Nakba every now and then to feel the consequences," Haliva added, referring to the 1948 displacement of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians out of what would become the border of the State of Israel.

"I'm not saying this out of revenge, but as a message for future generations," he added.

And Al Jazeera, August 16, 2025: Arab, Islamic countries condemn Netanyahu’s ‘Greater Israel’ remark

When interviewer Sharon Gal with the Israeli i24NEWS channel asked Netanyahu if he subscribed to a “vision” for a “Greater Israel”, Netanyahu said “absolutely”. Asked during the interview aired on Tuesday if he felt connected to the “Greater Israel” vision, Netanyahu said: “Very much.”

The “Greater Israel” concept supported by ultranationalist Israelis is understood to refer to an expansionist vision that lays claim to the occupied West Bank, Gaza, parts of Lebanon, Syria, Egypt and Jordan.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

A Poet's Roving Thoughts: On Beverly Acuff Momoi's Lifting the Towhee’s Song

Dual-Perspective (structure & titling) Analysis of an Award-Winning eChapbook of Haibu (with two updates; see below)

Lifting the Towhee’s Song by Beverly Acuff Momoi. Snapshot Press, 2012. eChapbook, 26 pp. Free and available online at http://goo.gl/3Ijy7

The thing that is truly superior and extremely rare in poetry is not the fine line, or even the percentage of fine lines which people think they can point to in a work and deliberately single out from the whole; it is, in my opinion, the composition of that whole, by which I do not at all mean the logical sequence and abstract hierarchy of ideas, but the composition which ordains the succession of forms, images, tones, rhythms, and sonorities, and which alone makes of the poem a unity that is indivisible . . .  -- Paul Valéry

Beverly Acuff Momoi’s Lifting the Towhee’s Song, a 2011 Snapshot Press eChapbook Award winner, is a collection of 19 haibun “written in the weeks after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan . . . . The chapbook began two weeks after the initial disaster, moving between California and Fukushima, what [she] heard on the news and what [she] learned from [her] family.”1 

The thematic threads that run though much of the chapbook are the 2011 earthquake and tsunami and their after-effects, emotional, familial, communal, environmental, and socioeconomic, such as “Mornings I sit. Buddhism teaches non-attachment, but I am terrified. I close my eyes, and with each breath, waves slam against the harbor . . . . Since the earthquake, 10,418 people are dead. The number of victims is expected to grow. The meteorological agency has issued warnings for a severe drop in temperature . . . . Sometimes he waits eight hours for a quarter-tank of gas but he does not dare let it drop to empty. He does not know where, or if, another station will be open . . . . she became hysterical, throwing herself against her mother and crying, ‘I can’t stand this! I can’t! I can’t!’ She recalls my grandmother looking straight into her eyes and saying, “Yes, you can. You can stand it. You will . . . . Every night now I fall asleep with the television on. Sometimes it seems my husband does not sleep at all . . . . Four weeks after the quake, and there is no running water in the shelter . . . .The man shakes his head. He was in Kobe in ’95. Helped in the recovery after the Great Sichuan Earthquake in 2008. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this’ . . . . Does grieving ever end? For weeks, people in northeast Japan wander among the wreckage of their lives, looking for family and friends, praying to find their bodies . . . .” Thematically speaking, each haibun in the chapbook not only works on its own, but also can be read as a juxtaposed haibun to the 19-haibun sequence through the “content link.”2

However, these 19 haibun vary little in structure, corresponding relationships of prose to haiku, and style. All the haiku, except the two in the title haibun, are solitary and used as the closing verses. Eight haibun consist of one paragraph and one haiku, and another eight two paragraphs (usually one long and one very short) and one haiku. Structurally speaking, most of the haibun in the chapbook function like the basic unit of standard haibun as described in Jeffrey Woodward's “Form in Haibun: An Outline”: the prefatory prose, “a vignette that focuses upon detail carefully chosen for its significance to the motif and a closing haiku’s sensory perceptions compared with or contrasted to the imagery of the preceding paragraph.”3 

The prefatory prose is written mainly in the two styles, emotionally evocative and journalistic, which are exemplified in the first two haibun:


March 26, 2011

Mornings I sit. Buddhism teaches non-attachment, but I am terrified. I close my eyes, and with each breath, waves slam against the harbor. In . . . and out. Homes, now kindling. Family cars in Tonka toy pile-ups. In. And out. And with this breath. People scrambling, leaving all but life itself. Again. In. Out. How do I let them go? A woman sitting, palms joined. No words. Just the ocean. And this moment. In. Out.

Earth Hour --
it’s lights out, just the stars
what’s left of the moon

Snow Country

The interpreter’s voice is tight. Her words stumble, start over sharp intakes of breath. The water in reactor number 2 is extremely high—ten million times higher—in radioactive substances. The source of the leakage has not been determined. About the workers who stood in irradiated water in reactor number 3, the degree of injury may not be known for several weeks. The government has criticized the utility for improper management.

Since the earthquake, 10,418 people are dead. The number of victims is expected to grow. The meteorological agency has issued warnings for a severe drop in temperature. High winds, rough seas are also likely. People are advised to take care.

not a cherry blossom in sight
spring arrives late
in snow country


The obvious weakness in these two haibun is that the closing haiku are not strong enough to cap the prose and function as the culminating point of the composition. It’s because in the first haiku, “it’s lights out” is implied in its preceding line (“Earth Hour”) while in the second one, lines 2 and 3 are explanatory. Like the first two haiku in the chapbook, most of the rest cannot properly fulfill their functional role mainly due to the overuse of figurative language and the weak cutting effects created by the juxtaposed images in the haiku,4 such as the following:

full moon maple
struggling to bloom
March flurries
(in "Waiting for Gas")

shadow of spring --
how hungry the waves are
reclaiming the land
(in "Asleep")

this precarious spring
see how the bamboo bends
bows
(in "How the Bamboo Bends")

against this
wide and sorrowful sky we are
all ashes and smoke
(in "All Ashes")

earthquake light
how does the tree survive
this spring
(in "Earthquake Light")

This weakness reminds me of Woodward's insightful advice in his above-mentioned article: “This form, while well-adapted for the abbreviated anecdote or descriptive sketch, may find its efficacy called into question with the introduction of greater expository or narrative complications. One concluding haiku will rarely balance well with a story that employs multiple characters and requires hundreds of words for the telling.”5

However, the poet pays little attention to the functional roles played by a poem’s title. The titles of these 19 haibun, except that of the opener, are taken directly from their prose or haiku. All of them are not fully utilized. For example, in the following three short haibun, I don’t see any thing beneficial by using titles that are the lines taken from their poem texts.


Savage Spring

In California, the poppies are brilliant this year. I have been so lost in grief, then suddenly this wild swath of life. I see them as if for the first time, golden faces turned to the heavens.

savage spring
a single mud-stained photograph
of her three-year-old

How the Bamboo Bends

April 11, 2011. 02:46 p.m. Throughout Japan, sirens. Then silence. How to endure this endless grief.

this precarious spring
see how the bamboo bends
bows

Golden Week

It’s the start of Golden Week in Japan, and all the trains are crowded. My husband waits in line for over an hour to get a ticket on the Shinkansen. Everyone is going home.

last day of April
returning to Fukushima
for the funeral


In the poems above, every line could have been fully utilized to increase the impact of a poem. Below are two fine examples by Charles Simic and Joseph Stroud respectively that can help make my point:


Slaughterhouse Flies

Evenings, they ran their bloody feet
Over the pages of my schoolbooks.
With eyes closed, I can still hear
The trees on our street
Saying a moody farewell to summer,
And someone, under our window, recalling
The silly old cows hesitating,
Growing suddenly suspicious
Just as the blade drops down on them.

Without the first word in the title, this image-dense poem could be easily misunderstood as a flight of poetic fantasy. Simic’s title helps the reader to figure out the context and setting, making the opening image visually and psychologically more appealing.


And I raised my hand in return

Every morning for two weeks on my walk into the village
I would see the young goat on the grassy slope above the stream.
It belonged to the Gypsies who lived in the plaza below the castle.
One day on my walk back to the mill house I saw the little goat
hanging from a tree by its hind legs, and a Gypsy was pulling
the skin off with a pair of pliers which he waved to me in greeting.


Stroud's skillful use of the title as the speaker's response to the events portrayed in the poem is emotionally effective, and his title can be read as the conclusion of the poem, and is therefore part of the poem itself.

In this collection of 19 haibun there are five titles repeating the words or phrases in the opening sentence, such as "Waiting for Gas," from "I sit in a queue two-cars deep, waiting for gas"; "Shudders’" from "My mother shudders at the first whisper of wind"; "Shigata Ga Nai," from "Shigata ga nai"; "Asleep’" from "Every night now I fall asleep with the television on"; "Golden Week," from "It’s the start of Golden Week in Japan, and all the trains are crowded." This shows that the poet doesn’t recognize the corresponding relationship of the title to its haibun. Take “Shigata Ga Nai,” for example. The use of a run-on title can increase the thematic and emotive impact of this repeated phase at the end of the prose.

Most importantly, paying little attention to the functional roles that can be played by a poem’s title is not an individual, but a communal problem. It’s not uncommon in prominent haiku/tanka-related journals to read a haiku/tanka sequence (of nine to 25 lines) or a short haibun whose title is taken directly from a line of its poem text. Now, I think it is time for the haiku/tanka community to think about the creative use6 of the title in a poem in order to increase its thematic and emotive impact.
 
Finally, there are a few words I would like to say about Beverly Acuff Momoi’s Lifting the Towhee’s Song. It is a material-rich, theme-heavy, artistically-unbalanced collection of haibun with least-utilized titles. If Momoi can take more time enhancing her haiku, rethinking about the corresponding relationships of prose to haiku, and effectively utilizing the titles in the book, I think Lifting the Towhee’s Song will be a good book to read and reflect upon.


Notes  

1. Momoi, Beverly Acuff, Lifting the Towhee's Song, Haibun eChapbook, accessed at http://goo.gl/gIkxf
2. In a “content link,” the added verse is joined to the previous verse by cause and effect, narrative development, scenic extension, temporal progression, or any other logic connection based on “content” (kokoro). See Shirane, Haruo, Traces of Dreams: Landscape, Cultural Memory, and the Poetry of Basho (Stanford University Press, 1998), p. 87. 
3. Haibun Today, 4:4, December 2010, accessed at http://goo.gl/yzBZM  
4. For further discussion on the issue related to cutting effects, see my “To the Lighthouse” posts, “Cutting through Time and Space” and “Re-examining the Concept and Practice of Cutting,” which can be accessed at http://goo.gl/gh2sM and http://goo.gl/yikEE respectively. 
5. Woodward, ibid. 
6. One of the most skillfully utilized titles I've known of is Ginsberg's "Written in My Dream by W. C. Williams." The form of this brilliantly-crafted poem, line breaks, and sentiments are his response to and elaboration of Williams's "The Locust Tree in Flower." In his allusive title, Ginsberg acknowledges dual authorship and presents his poem as a tribute to his friend and mentor, W. C. Williams (Herbert Kohl, A Grain of Poetry, pp. 54-7). For further discussion on this neglected issue and more examples, please see my “To the Lighthouse” post, entitled “The Title of a Poem Should Never Be Ignored,” which can be accessed at http://goo.gl/8Vuhx

First published in Haibun Today, 7:2, June 2013


Updated:

1 I published another "To the Lighthouse" post on titling, in which I further explained what I meant by "effectively utilizing  the title of a poem" through insightful excerpts from scholarly references and the judge's (Roberta Beary's) comments on the 2012 Haiku Society of America Haibun Awards and two "so-called rule-breaking" poems (included in the comment section). This post has been well-received and constantly reprinted in e-papers, which will be included in the forthcoming "Hot News" post. For more information, see my "To the Lighthouse" post, titled "The Art of Titling."

Below is excerpted from my comments on the art of titling:

Titology 101:By taking a line from the poem text to use as a title, the poet runs the risk of weakening the power of the line.

One exception: Effective use of repetition. For more information, see "To the Lighthouse: Repetition, Repetition, Repetition "

Two examples:

The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

"The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls" is repeated four times in the poem. The repeating ebb-and-flow action of the title gives a strong visual feel to the poem, guiding the rhythmic pace.

Nothing in That Drawer by Ron Padgett

Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.

In his “postmodernist sonnet,” Ron Padgett tinkers with form “irreverently.”

The following is an excerpt from Clay Matthews' essay, "On Ron Padgett :"

Similarly, in “Nothing in That Drawer,” another of Padgett’s poems in form, and one of his most anthologized, we find a sublime revelry in the sonnet and by extension poetry at large. In this poem, each of the fourteen lines that make up the sonnet is the same: “Nothing in that drawer.” The repetition becomes comedic, as we visually imagine a speaker looking in one drawer after another, or perhaps the same drawer over and over. And yet the move to search in this poem is also reminiscent of the postmodern sublime, as it constantly points to the failure of language and form to achieve an absolute unity—with themselves and with the Idea. We have in this sonnet the constant search, constantly postponed or deferred. We’re never sure what the speaker is even searching for, or if the movement of the poem is simply language, or boredom, even. We’re left with a sort of constant opening and disappointment, which in many ways is what poetry as postmodern sublime is—an opening on a thought or structure accompanied by a delight in the failure of the opening. And in the case of “Nothing in That Drawer,” because we’re never sure of the action, or even the context, it seems the poem is less about a nostalgia for the unpresentable and more about the loss as bliss, the sublime itself.

Instead of lamenting the gap between form and content, word and concept, Padgett places them in conversation with one another, allowing the form to speak to the content and vice versa. The sonnet form in this poem is wrapped in a contemporary humor, much like the Gehry house Jameson discusses in Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. And like the Gehry house, which features an older, traditional home renovated by postmodern architecture, Padgett’s poem allows the inside and the outside to converge. Thus, the form of the sonnet, the sonnet as move from proposition to resolution, offers a narrative to the very language that also works to deny that narrative and/or resolution.


2  Below is excerpted from Ray Rasmussen's "Commentary: Jeffrey Woodward's "Time with the Heron" –Poetic Techniques in Haibun Composition," Contemporary Haibun Today, 9:3, October 2013:

I. The Use and Abuse of Repetition

Having myself been an editor for several haiku-genre journals, I have often encountered instances of what I call the 'lazy writer sin'. These are writers who repeat words and phrases out of habit and who may simply be unaware that unintended repetition can detract from the flow and beauty of a piece. And I've often seen members of writing forums criticize repetition with little consideration for whether the writer intended a deliberate use of a poetic device. The message conveyed is that writers should use a word or phrase but once in title, prose passage and poem. Although such criticism may be valid in a given instance, to suggest it as a hard and fast rule constitutes the parallel sin of 'lazy criticism'. If a reader has insight, suggestions may be helpful.

Of course, the generalization that repetition is something to avoid is nonsense. Repetition, fragmentation, compression and rhyme are well-established devices in poetry...

To prove his point, Ray gives a detailed analysis of  Jeffrey Woodward's  "Time with the Heron:"


Time with the Heron

The angler will do well to set his fly-rod aside and forget for a time the alluring ritual to-and-fro rhythm of a cast, to sit on the bank beneath an inviting willow, to watch the current slur over a sandy shallow or ruffle above a rift in the rock.

Time will allow one to study the blue heron not far from the willow's shadow, to learn the skill that is his by concentrated patience and poise. The heron stalks his prey—stepping lightly upon stilts now—with a deliberation given only to one for whom time has no meaning. Even so, the heron's painstaking stealth muddies the stream. Even so, the heron pauses, stares.

Time will allow one to repeat the lyrical names of hand-tied flies—Blue Quill, Royal Coachman, Pale Evening Dun, Yellow Sally, Gray Hackle—until the syllables become a meaningless babble, having only their own inherent musical properties, like the voice of the brook before the first man came.

Time will allow the angler, also, to study that maze of light everywhere at play with the water and to gaze, without ease of penetration, at the cloudy trail a heron makes.

when the water clears,
the mind, also, of
a great blue heron


In her article, titled "What Haibun Poets Can Learn From Non-haikai Western Poetry Practices: The Valentine's Day Skywriter Spells Out His Own Name, " of the same CHO issue,  J. Zimmerman gives readers a lot of quotes about titling and some statistics about the poets who take lines from their poems to use as titles, but she never makes any following distinctions:  between a short poem and a longer one; between the poems with effective use of repetition (like the ones discussed above) and the ones without. Most importantly, she  never analyzes one single poem mentioned in the article to prove her point. How do Rasmussen's article and hers rate as to enrich the reader's understanding the issue of titling in the context of  the use of repetition ? It's your judgement call.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

To the Lighthouse: The Art of Titling

First with the jokes:

[Let] us consider for a moment the functions of some particular conventions of titling a poem. We may take as a text to start with a well-known literary joke about titles. In Through the Looking Glass, the White Knight’s reading of the parody of Wordsworth’s “Resolution and Independence” is introduced by an exchange which has been frequently commented upon by logicians as an example of a set of meta-languages, in this case names, names of names, names of names of names, etc. The White Knight announces at first that

“The name of the song is called ‘Haddocks’ Eyes.’”
“Oh, that’s the name of the song, is it?” Alice said, trying to feel interested.
“No, you don’t understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed. “That’s what the name is called. The name really is ‘The Aged, Aged Man.’”
“Then I ought to have said ‘That’s what the song is called?’”
Alice corrected herself.
“No, you oughtn’t: that’s quite another thing! The song is called ‘Ways and Means’: but that’s only what it’s called, you know!”
“Well, what is the song then?” said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.
“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really is ‘A-sitting on a Gate’: and the tune’s my own invention.”

(excerpted from Chapter X, “Haddocks’ Eyes”: A Note on the Theory of Titles, Vision and Resonance: Two Senses of Poetic Form by John Hollander. In her award-wining book, The Title to the Poem, Anne Ferry states that

John Hollander’s richly suggestive proposal for the study of the titles for shorter poems, “’Haddocks’ Eyes’: A Note on the Theory of Titles.” What Hollander outlines is the possibility of ordering titles in a “spectrum along the axis from redundancy -- what he calls “neutral” titles, which merely name the formal kind and perhaps the topic of the poem -- “to maximum informativeness” -- such as Stevens’s titles, which seem to be an integral part of his poems (p.8)

By the way, John Hollander is known for his one-line, two-word definition poem below:

A One-Line Poem: The Universe.  (Rhyme’s Reason, p.12)

Hollander effectively utilizes the title and successfully elevates the poem to a metaphysical level)


Passion by Chen-ou Liu
for Billy Collins

half a haiku
the morning
already ancient

I wake from my nap screaming. In the dream, my half-naked poem is nailed to the cross, surrounded by a cheering crowd. A critic begins beating it with a hose, trying to torture a confession of its meaning from it. My poem cries out in anguish.

midnight moon
the only thing moving
my right hand

A Hundred Gourds, 2:2, March 2013


Then comes the heavy stuff:

Titology 101:

By taking a line from the poem text  to use as a title, the poet runs the risk of weakening the power of the line.


The literary title fills various functions resulting from diverse considerations. One simple function is identification. In addition to this,  "any literary title has a dimension of focusing, summarizing, and representing.” (Taha, p.66). Academically speaking, Harry Levin is the first person who treated this topic using the generic term “titology” (“The Title as a Literary Genre,” Modern Language Review, 72, 1977, xxiii – xxxv), and Anne Ferry’s  award-winning book, The Title to the Poem, is the first scholarly work dedicated to the “theoretical, critical, and historical exploration of the traditions for titling shorter poems by British and American poets from the beginnings of printing to the present. The first six chapters are distinguished according to the nature of the question a reader might ask about the poem, which the title purports to answer. Who gives the title? Who has the title? Who "says" the poem? Who "hears" the poem? What genre does the poem belong to? What is the poem "about"? There are complex relationships between what titles purport to tell and what they actually tell, and this is true not only of titles so worded that they demand interpretation, but also of those that appear straightforward. Though the choice of examples aims at range and variety, certain British and American poets have been exceptionally influential in their contributions to the course of titling in English, so their work receives special and repeated attention here.” (book summary, Stanford University Press)

According to John Hollander’s critical study, modern poems become extremely short and seem generally inventive. The role of the title increases in importance (p. 224). “The rhetorical of the title -- not merely what it directs the audience’s attention to, but how, and with what gestures (flourish? jab? insinuation? deadpan pseudo-labeling ? etc.) it does the directing?” (p. 225)


Finally, today’s food for thought:

Dish 1: 2012 Haiku Society of America Haibun Contest

First Prize: Phases by Tom Painting

Forty years ago, right after the breakup, I cut her out of the photo and  then rounded the edges to make it appear complete. The other day I showed it to my students. One said he bet I had a lot of girlfriends. Yeah, but not the one I wanted.

nightcap the hazy moon

Second Prize: Say Summer by Michele Root-Bernstein
   
And there passes in front of my inner eye a bird's view of the backyard where I grew up. In the early 1950's my parents purchased a small concrete home in a new subdivision built on the former estate of a grand Philadelphia family. At the top of our road stood the towering entrance gates to the mansion that lay crumbling on a farther hill. Between those two pillars of decayed opulence, I inhabited another wealth, the kind a child makes of a small rectangular piece of land, limned by chain link fence and honeysuckle vines. Say summer and the cut grass stains the feet green. Say summer and bees buzz in the clover. If only I had a bee of my very own, I might live just there on the rolling cusp of its drawn-out drone. I hunker by the pinkest white clover I can find, ready with a small plastic tub to trap the plumpest bumblebee, ready, too, for the chance of its sting.

thunderstorm
safe beneath the picnic table
the lightning in me

Third Prize: Dragons Live Forever by Terri L. French

My father reclines in his La-Z-Boy, the afghan pulled up over his head like a burial shroud. His lighter, ashtray, cigarettes, inhaler and oxygen tank are within reach. His nicotine-stained fingers—the color of sausages gone bad—twitch as he dreams.

He is 8-years old, behind the barn with his cousins Donny and Marvin in Yale, Michigan. Donny, three years his senior, clumsily rolls a cigarette, mimicking the moves of their grandfather. He licks the paper and pulls a piece of tobacco from his tongue, flicking it to the ground. Donny hands the gnarled thing to Marvin, the second oldest, who lights it. He takes a puff but doesn't inhale. He hands the cig to my dad who inhales deeply, filling his 8-year-old lungs. He doesn't cough. He exhales slowly and smiles.

My father awakens, turns off the oxygen tank and reaches for his cigarettes. The smoke fills his 72-year old lungs. He exhales, coughs, and reaches for his inhaler.

autumn mist
mom changes the ending
of the fairy tale
(note: you can see all the winning haibun here) 

Judge’s (Roberta Beary’s) Comments:

I looked for a title which added texture,... (note: this means the title is effectively utilized)

The title, "Phrases," can be interpreted in at least two ways. There is the phrase of young love, "he/she is just going through a phrase;" there is the phrase of the moon, which is also echoed in the haiku...(note: the title is effectively utilized to elevate this "relationship haibun" to a metaphoric level)  

The alliterative title of the second-place winner, "Say Summer" leads the reader into the haibun. From there the prose draws the reader in deeper, Grammar rules do not apply here. The writing flows and takes the reader along for the ride... (note: this run-on, alliterative  title successfully sets the seasonal context, which is infused with emotion, and the mood , for the poem)

When I read the title of this haibun, I immediately remembered the song by Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Puff the Magic Dragon" with its refrain, "A dragon lives forever but not so little boys."... In "Dragons Live Forever" the title, prose, and haiku complement one another... (note: you can read the full text of the judge’s comments here)

Dish 2:  2012 Snapshot Press eChapbook Awards

Lifting the Towhee’s Song by Beverly Acuff Momoi. Snapshot Press, 2012. eChapbook, 26 pp. Free and available online at http://goo.gl/3Ijy7

There is no comment made by the judge and editor, John Barlow. 

Below is excerpted from my review, On Beverly Acuff Momoi's Lifting the Towhee’s Song, which was published in Haibun Today, 7:2, June 2013

Beverly Acuff Momoi’s Lifting the Towhee’s Song, a 2011 Snapshot Press eChapbook Award winner, is a collection of 19 haibun “written in the weeks after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan . . . . The chapbook began two weeks after the initial disaster, moving between California and Fukushima, what [she] heard on the news and what [she] learned from [her] family.”1 ...

However, the poet pays little attention to the functional roles played by a poem’s title. The titles of these 19 haibun, except that of the opener, are taken directly from their prose or haiku. All of them are not fully utilized. For example, in the following three short haibun, I don’t see any thing beneficial by using titles that are the lines taken from their poem texts.

        Savage Spring

        In California, the poppies are brilliant this year. I have been so lost in grief, then suddenly this wild swath of life. I see them as if for the first time, golden faces turned to the heavens.

        savage spring
        a single mud-stained photograph
        of her three-year-old

        How the Bamboo Bends

        April 11, 2011. 02:46 p.m. Throughout Japan, sirens. Then silence. How to endure this endless grief.

        this precarious spring
        see how the bamboo bends
        bows

        Golden Week

        It’s the start of Golden Week in Japan, and all the trains are crowded. My husband waits in line for over an hour to get a ticket on the Shinkansen. Everyone is going home.

        last day of April
        returning to Fukushima
        for the funeral

In the poems above, every line could have been fully utilized to increase the impact of a poem. Below are two fine examples by Charles Simic and Joseph Stroud respectively that can help make my point:

        Slaughterhouse Flies

        Evenings, they ran their bloody feet
        Over the pages of my schoolbooks.
        With eyes closed, I can still hear
        The trees on our street
        Saying a moody farewell to summer,

        And someone, under our window, recalling
        The silly old cows hesitating,
        Growing suddenly suspicious
        Just as the blade drops down on them.

Without the first word in the title, this image-dense poem could be easily misunderstood as a flight of poetic fantasy. Simic’s title helps the reader to figure out the context and setting, making the opening image visually and psychologically more appealing.

        And I raised my hand in return

        Every morning for two weeks on my walk into the village
        I would see the young goat on the grassy slope above the stream.
        It belonged to the Gypsies who lived in the plaza below the castle.
        One day on my walk back to the mill house I saw the little goat
        hanging from a tree by its hind legs, and a Gypsy was pulling
        the skin off with a pair of pliers which he waved to me in greeting.

Stroud's skillful use of the title as the speaker's response to the events portrayed in the poem is emotionally effective, and his title can be read as the conclusion of the poem, and is therefore part of the poem itself.

In this collection of 19 haibun there are five titles repeating the words or phrases in the opening sentence, such as "Waiting for Gas," from "I sit in a queue two-cars deep, waiting for gas"; "Shudders’" from "My mother shudders at the first whisper of wind"; "Shigata Ga Nai," from "Shigata ga nai"; "Asleep’" from "Every night now I fall asleep with the television on"; "Golden Week," from "It’s the start of Golden Week in Japan, and all the trains are crowded." This shows that the poet doesn’t recognize the corresponding relationship of the title to its haibun. Take “Shigata Ga Nai,” for example. The use of a run-on title can increase the thematic and emotive impact of this repeated phase at the end of the prose.

Most importantly, paying little attention to the functional roles that can be played by a poem’s title is not an individual, but a communal problem. It’s not uncommon in prominent haiku/tanka-related journals to read a haiku/tanka sequence (of nine to 25 lines) or a short haibun whose title is taken directly from a line of its poem text. Now, I think it is time for the haiku/tanka community to think about the creative use 6 of the title in a poem in order to increase its thematic and emotive impact.

(note 6: 6. One of the most skillfully utilized titles I've known of is Ginsberg's "Written in My Dream by W. C. Williams." The form of this brilliantly-crafted poem, line breaks, and sentiments are his response to and elaboration of Williams's "The Locust Tree in Flower." In his allusive title, Ginsberg acknowledges dual authorship and presents his poem as a tribute to his friend and mentor, W. C. Williams (Herbert Kohl, A Grain of Poetry, pp. 54-7). For further discussion on this neglected issue and more examples, please see my “To the Lighthouse” post, entitled “The Title of a Poem Should Never Be Ignored "


References:

Anne Ferry, The Title to the Poem, Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1996.

John Hollander, Vision and Resonance : Two Senses of Poetic Form, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985. 2nd ed.

Ibrahim Taha. The Power of the Title: Why Have You Left the Horse Alone by Mahmud Darwish, Journal of Arabic and Islamic, III, 2000, pp. 66-83.  Unicode version.

(Abstract: This article deals with various functions of the title of Darwish's collection Why Have You Left the Horse Alone in three different contexts: as an independent and separate text; in relation to the poem in which it originally appeared; and in relation to all the poems in the collection. Our case discussion shows that the interpretation of the title means in fact a discussion of the entire text, or rather of all these texts. It also shows that the question/title has equally informative, rhetorical, provocative, and communicative facets, and as such our discussion grants it great summarizing and representational power. When all this power is given to the title as pre-text, it in essence also makes the title a post-text. Note: Mahmud Darwish (13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008), one of my favorite writers,  was "a Palestinian poet and author who won numerous awards for his literary output and was regarded as the Palestinian national poet.In his work, Palestine became a metaphor for the loss of Eden, birth and resurrection, and the anguish of dispossession and exile. He has been described as an incarnation of the traditional political poet in Islam." -- excerpted from the Wikipedia entry, Mahmud Darwish )

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

To the Lighthouse: The Title of a Poem Should Never Be Ignored

It’s not uncommon in prominent haiku/tanka-related journals to read a tanka/haiku sequence whose title is taken directly from a line of its poem text. This shows that the poet pays little attention to the functional roles played by a poem’s title. For such a short poem (of  9-25 lines), every line should be fully utilized. Take Adelaide Crapsey, inventor of American Cinquain whose work was influenced by Japanese short form poetry, for example, she is known for skillfully utilizing the title as a sixth line to help communicate a mood or feeling through  intense physical imagery. Experienced poets often use a title to help set the context for the poem. The following poem by Charles Simic is an example:

Slaughterhouse Flies

Evenings, they ran their bloody feet
Over the pages of my schoolbooks.
With eyes closed, I can still hear
The trees on our street
Saying a moody farewell to summer,

And someone, under our window, recalling
The silly old cows hesitating,
Growing suddenly suspicious
Just as the blade drops down on them.

Without the first word in the title, this image-dense poem could be easily misunderstood as a “flight of poetic fantasy.” The title, especially its first word, helps figure out the context and setting, making the opening image visually and psychologically appealing to the attentive reader.

Joseph Stroud’s fine poem also successfully utilizes the title:

And I raised my hand in return

Every morning for two weeks on my walk into the village
I would see the young goat on the grassy slope above the stream.
It belonged to the Gypsies who lived in the plaza below the castle.
One day on my walk back to the mill house I saw the little goat
hanging from a tree by its hind legs, and a Gypsy was pulling
the skin off with a pair of pliers which he waved to me in greeting.

Stroud's use of the title as the speaker's response to the events portrayed in the poem is emotionally effective, and the title can be read as the conclusion of the poem, and is therefore part of the poem itself.

The following is another good example by David Allan Evans

Neighbors

They live alone
together,
  
she with her wide hind
and bird face,
he with his hung belly
and crewcut.
  
They never talk
but keep busy.
  
Today they are
washing windows
(each window together)
she on the inside,
he on the outside.
He squirts Windex
at her face,
she squirts Windex
at his face.
  
Now they are waving
to each other
with rags,
  
not smiling.

In this brilliantly-crafted poem that succeeds in telling readers about the relationship between two persons through concrete imagery of how they behave toward each other, Evans skillfully uses the title as a veiled authorial comment to stir the reader’s further reflection on the issue regarding human intimacy. Ironically, it reminds me of the concluding line from Robert Frost’s famous poem, “Mending Wall:” Good fences make good neighbors.

Now, I think it's time for the haiku/tanka community to think about the creative use 1 of the title in a poem sequence in order to increase its impact, thematic and emotive.


Note:

1 One of the most skillfully utilized titles I've known of is Ginsberg's "Written in My Dream by W. C. Williams." The form of this brilliantly-crafted poem, line breaks, and sentiments are his response to and elaboration of Williams's "The Locust Tree in Flower." In his allusive title, Ginsberg acknowledges dual authorship and presents his poem as a tribute to his friend and mentor, W. C. Williams. For further discussion on these two poems, see Herbert Kohl, A Grain of Poetry, pp. 54-7.