First published in the Tanka Society of America’s TSA Newsletter 2:1, Spring 2001, pages 1–2. Originally written in March of 2001 in Belmont, California. This message called for the Tanka Society of America to develop its own formal definition for tanka. I recall working for a time with Pamela Miller Ness on a possible definition, but we never finished our work, which might have been a good thing. Numerous members preferred that the society not define tanka at all, freeing it from any hint of rigidity in English. Yet surely a point exists where a poem is no longer a tanka, with a defining line somewhere between tanka and not-tanka.
What is the difference between tanka and haiku? I’ve heard one person say that there’s no difference except that tanka has two extra lines. This answer doesn’t satisfy me. However, based on several definitions I’ve seen of these genres, very often it seems that length is presented as the only difference. Many definitions of tanka could substitute for haiku except for the length criteria. This reveals the weakness of the definitions more than anything else, though, and I’m still not satisfied. Some say tanka is a love poem, yet others say that it was a love poem only in the past. There’s more to tanka than just topics of the heart and an extra two lines compared to haiku, even if the genre is hard to define. Tanka writers need a reliable definition of tanka in English.
One of the best attempts I’ve seen at defining tanka was made in 1994 by the Haiku Society of America definitions committee led by William J. Higginson. Here’s the draft definition the committee presented at that time:
TANKA. The typical lyric poem of Japanese literature, composed of five unrhymed metrical units of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7 “sound symbols”; tanka in English have generally been in five lines with a total of thirty-one or fewer syllables, often observing a short, long, short, long, long pattern. Tanka usually need no titles, though in Japanese a “topic” (dai) is often indicated where a title would normally stand in Western poetry. In Japan the tanka is well over twelve hundred years old (haiku is about three hundred years old), and has gone through many periods of change in style and content. But it has always been a poem of feelings, often involving metaphor and other figurative language (not generally used in haiku). While tanka praising nature have been written, and seem to resemble “long haiku,” most tanka deal with human relationships or the author’s situation. In the words of Sanford Goldstein, “behind the scene is the autobiographical moment of the poet” (“Tanka: Off the Back Burner,” Frogpond XV:2 Fall–Winter 1992). The best tanka harmonize the writer’s emotional life with the elements of the outer world used to portray it.
I would like propose that the Tanka Society of America come up with its own definition, perhaps based on the preceding HSA draft. If you would be interested in helping with this task, please drop me a note by e-mail (at WelchM@aol.com) or snail mail (please note my new mailing address listed in this newsletter).
Meanwhile, what’s up with the tanka today? More new books of tanka continue to be published—at a rate that I believe is increasing over a few years ago. There are also several tanka contests that didn’t exist a year or two ago. The big news from the TSA is our own tanka contest results. Congratulations to Edward J. Rielly of Westbrook, Maine, for winning first place, to Amelia Fielden of Bellconnen, Australia, for second place, and to Doris Kasson of Belleair Bluffs, Florida, for third place. For their honorable mentions, congratulations also to Leatrice Lifshitz, Fay Aoyagi, and Joann Klontz. Complete contest results appear in this newsletter [LINK]. Thanks also to our judges, David Rice and Naomi Y. Brown, for evaluating 309 entries and for their fine commentary on the winning poems. We now have a new TSA tanka contest upon us. The deadline is April 30, so please do send in your submissions. April 30 will be our deadline each year from now on. Contest rules appear in this issue.
Another matter upon us is membership renewals. Elsewhere in this issue you can read about two renewal options, both designed to switch membership to a calendar-year basis. The first option is for members to renew for the balance of 2001 only. The second option is to renew for the balance of 2001 and all of 2002. Most members will need to renew after receiving the fourth newsletter (the one after this one), and we hope you will choose the second option, as it will help simplify our bookkeeping. Thereafter, all renewals will be due each January.
My continued thanks to TSA officers for their work on behalf of the society—particularly to Job Conger for his tireless record-keeping and correspondence with each member, especially at this time when we are gaining so many new members. Further thanks to Job for coordinating our tanka contest. Particular thanks, too, to Larry Lavenz, for keeping the books and for financial advice when the TSA executive committee has decisions to make. And thanks once again to Pamela Miller Ness for producing this newsletter, which is not only the backbone of the TSA, but much of its flesh and blood. Thanks, as well, to Paul O. Williams for his level-headed support and other contributions (you’ll also find his personal choice tanka essay elsewhere in this issue).
The Tanka Society of America now has 133 members; 128 of this number are “charter members” who joined before the end of 2000, so we more than exceeded the goal of at least 100 charter members. Can we reach 200 members by the end of 2001? Let’s see if we can, and also explore the possibility of what new activities and events TSA might be able to sponsor. If you have ideas, please let me or other officers know. For example, having a dedicated TSA website would be great, if anyone might be able to help with that project. Here’s to a great 2001, and may the tanka muse be with you.
—Michael Dylan Welch