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When Less Is More
An SCP Poetry Challenge
In a recent email exchange with a poet friend, I found myself typing the following sentence:
“Poetic forms, such as sonnet, etc. force poets to trim their words down to the minimum for maximum effect.”
This raised a question in my mind as to whether a poem can be more effective when it allows readers to use their imaginations to fill in the gaps rather than spelling it all out for them?
A sonnet, for example, severely limits what a poet can say. Thoughts, feelings and ideas must be concentrated insofar as the form demands that each word be chosen carefully to generate the desired effect when bound by the additional limitations of meter and rhyme.
Even so, a sonnet utilizes a lot of words compared to a haiku. Indeed, the severe limitations of a haiku challenges poets to find a way to contain large thoughts and images in only a few, carefully selected words. This, for me, is an essential skill for a poet to learn—to effectively create large thoughts and images in as few words as necessary.
To test this, I spontaneously jotted down a set of somewhat random images as a haiku and then pondered what larger thoughts and images were suggested by the poem without spelling them out—gaps that would require the reader to “fill in the blanks,” so to speak.
Here is the haiku I wrote:
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Sunlit frozen pond;
A thousand diamonds glisten.
Will you marry me?
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If you—and I mean you—were to expand this haiku into a prose paragraph, where would your imagination take you? What story would you tell? And—to carry this one step further—how would you take your expanded thoughts and express them in the form of a sonnet?
I took my own bait and, in a surprisingly short amount of time, answered my own question by filling in the gaps with the following sonnet:
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Like lovers in a tightly held embrace
The winter sun plunged deep into the pond
And probed the depths with gentle, luminous grace
As I pursued an even deeper bond.
As diamond-scattered sunlight ricochetted
From off the water’s rippled-frozen sheen
I knelt with proffered ring in hand and laid
My hopes and dreams before my love-sought queen.
In making her reply she took my hand,
And with a smile she raised me to my feet.
“In love,” she said, “as equals we will stand,
And side by side our joy will be complete.”
As diamonds flashed like sun-fire from her ring
Our kiss turned frozen winter into spring.
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My sonnet expanded the original idea tucked into the haiku by filling in details that could just as easily been filled in by the reader’s own imagination.
My conclusion? A poem doesn’t have to say everything and—especially in formal poetry—it is often the case that less is more.
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THE CHALLENGE
1. Write a haiku on any subject, and then
2. Expand the haiku into a sonnet by filling in the gaps.
Write the haiku first, and then the sonnet. And while you are allowed to base your sonnet on a previously written haiku, it defeats the intent of the challenge to use a previously written sonnet!
When done, place your effort in the comments. Note that there is no prize and there will be no winners and losers. This is a challenge, not a contest.
Have fun! And good luck!
(And please don’t point out that the word “diamonds” has three syllables, not two. Sometimes I “write ‘em the way I speak ‘em.”).
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BROWN BLOSSOMS FALLING
By Roy E. Peterson
Brown blossoms falling.
Autumn silence deafening.
What will winter bring?
Flowers fall asleep with the autumn wind.
Brown blossoms falling as if they’re chagrined.
The last rose of summer has lost its hue.
Brown blossoms falling is its residue.
There’s no more flower camaraderie,
No more excitement from the bumble bee.
The autumn silence becomes deafening.
When autumn is gone, what will winter bring?
Oh, rest well my roses where roots still grow
Even covered with a blanket of snow.
So, save up your strength for a springtime fling.
When your greater beauty returns in spring.
Like humans on earth who have gone away,
They’ll be seen again on some sunny day.
A special thank you to James! This challenge jump started my creative processes again. I needed that!
My spine of the sea
Veins vastness of the ocean
Deep utter darkness
crashing waves come consuming your heart veins.
deep wave roar, as it had minutes before.
Under deep sea, the wind faces the moon.
shout out at the moon due to its silence.
The roar of the waves tempest shakes your spine.
leaning closer as clouds approach to play
Thunder roars awaken, listen, the storm
Rainy, cloudy skies slowly unfold night
unruly sun, morning sea blooms surround
raged played out brighten skies emblazoned
sunset weeps and leaves the moonrise sighing.
Listen to the sea like minutes before
Attuned silence of the moon, shadows hold
moon beats away sunlight spells left the room
crashing waves come consuming your heart veins.
deep wave roar, as it had minutes before.
Under deep sea, the wind faces the moon.
shout out at the moon due to its silence.
The roar of the waves tempest shakes your spine.
leaning closer as clouds approach to play
Thunder roars awaken, listen, the storm
Rainy, cloudy skies slowly unfold night
unruly sun, morning sea blooms surround
raged played out brighten the skies emblazoned
sunset weeps and leaves the moonrise sighing.
Listen to the sea like minutes before
Attuned silence of the moon, shadows hold
moon beats away sunlight spells left the room
MY LOVE THERE SHE STANDS
By Roy E. Peterson (January 12, 2024)
Statuesque and proud
She splashes with a shudder.
She’s my treasure trove.
My love and I bask on a summer day
Down at Baffin Beach where the dolphins play.
When we got there into the waves I dove,
Then I looked around at my treasure trove.
Statuesque and proud. My love there she stands,
Tanned beneath bikini on golden sands.
She splashes with a shudder, shivering,
As the ocean tides are delivering
Wave after wave of currents caressing
Her body hoping for her undressing.
Picnic ready sitting on the blanket,
Opened a wine bottle. We both drank it.
Footprints vanish quickly and so does time
Like she was never there and in her prime.
COUGARS ARE A LIKE ROCKET SLED
By Roy E. Peterson
Poised to spring ahead
Cougars are a rocket sled.
Instant prey turns red.
Eagle in the sky surveying the scene.
He knows where to go when the grass is green.
Mellow morning meadow melts with the sun.
Peaceful pasture prey are ready to run.
Wary is the watchword while prey will graze.
They must stay aware on such sunny days.
Flocks must stay together for protection
To fight their foe and for foe detection.
Crouching cougar waits like a rocket sled
Sitting on a rock poised to spring ahead.
Nature is not nice. It is filled with dread.
Cougar flashes forward. Prey becomes red.
Beware of the devil’s dark desires.
He’s the crouching cougar while time expires.
Strong
HEADING FOR HEAVEN
By Roy E. Peterson
Heading for heaven
With engraved invitation.
My passage.is paid.
Everything on earth will turn into dust.
The flowers will die and mere metal will rust.
Satan will tempt us and demons annoy.
Wars will be waged while the worm will destroy.
When I die, I am heading for heaven,
Since I have an engraved invitation.
He who sacrificed is waiting for me,
Since He paid my passage on Calvary.
I have a new home waiting for me there,
Where sorrow is gone with someone to care.
The word is my sword and faith is my shield.
I’ll meet you on an Elysian Field.
The Bible’s my engraved invitation,
The word incarnate for my salvation.
SNOWFLAKES SIFTING
By Roy E. Peterson
Snowflakes sifting;
Winter drifting.
Cream for my coffee.
I stay in a cabin, my winter home,
Writing words of wisdom in each poem.
Through the trees I see snowflakes sifting.
Winter at last, soon snow will be drifting.
The last autumn leaves hanging on the trees
Soon will tumble down with the winter breeze.
The roses long ago lost their perfume.
Lighted lamp is flickering in my room.
Potbellied stove burns wood efficiently.
I cut two cords that is sufficiently.
Fluffy cotton clouds cover my abode.
Snow is piling up on my one dirt road.
Later in winter I will be snowbound.
Cream for my coffee with no one around.
Thought
What an incredibly love sonnet. The tone, sense and metre are perfect. Will give the challenge a try in my spare time.
A humble attempt, please:
A single bird calls—
the field holds its breath at dusk,
shadows stretch like time.
A single bird calls through the cooling air,
its cry a thread pulled taut across the sky.
The grass stands still, as if it doesn’t dare
to stir beneath the hush of evening’s eye.
The sun sinks lower, yet nothing truly yields—
not tree, nor breeze, nor soil’s secreted breath.
All life retreats within these open fields,
awaiting dark like lovers wait for death.
No answer there—just echoes trailing past,
lost in the hush no voice can hold or last.
The dusk begins to settle on my skin—
a prayer unprayed, a vow I dared not cast.
How long must I remain a witness here,
where light forgets, and time draws shadows near?