THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 25th July 2024. Sonam Chhoki, featured poet

hosts: Kala Ramesh & Firdaus Parvez

mentor: Lorraine Haig

A Thursday Feature.

poet of the month: Sonam Chhoki

25th July 2024

This month we have the pleasure of featuring Sonam Chhoki

Sonam Chhoki finds the Japanese short form poetry resonates with her Tibetan Buddhist upbringing. She is inspired by her father, Sonam Gyamtsho, the architect of Bhutan’s non-monastic modern education and by her mother, Chhoden Jangmu, who taught her: “Being a girl doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.” She is the principal editor, and co-editor of haibun for the online journal of Japanese short forms, cattails. 

Her chapbook of haibun, The Lure of the Threshold was published in May 2021. Mapping Absences, a collaboration of haibun, tan bun and tanka prose with Mike Montreuil was published in 2019. Another collaboration with Geetanjali Rajan: Unexpected Gift was published in November 2021.

http://www.cattailsjournal.com/currentissue.html

This flame called neighbourly love . . .

I run into our new neighbours at the bank. They are recently retired.

‘How are you settling in?’ I ask

‘It’s very quiet in the neighbourhood,’ she says.

‘Oh, there are quite a few families with children,’ I murmur.

‘Hardly seen anyone since we’ve moved,’ he says.

Too embarrassed to ask when did they move into the house down the road, I find myself inviting them for a meal at the weekend.

‘What would suit you, Saturday or Sunday?’ I smile whipping out my dog-eared notebook of scribblings which will never become poems as I can’t decipher the squiggles.

They look at each other and for a moment I think they will decline the invitation.

‘Saturdays we go shopping; Sunday early mornings we visit the monastery but 11 is fine,’ she says.

’11 A.M?’ I echo already hearing the family’s vehement protests. ‘How about 1 o'clock?’ I suggest. He shakes his head and says, ‘that is our nap time and then I like to listen to the afternoon programme on the radio.’

‘What kind of food are you going to prepare?’ she asks. I conjure a menu quickly. ‘I could make a Thai ...’

She cuts in, ‘we don’t like chicken, I don’t eat mushrooms and he can't stand cabbages, beans or peas.’

‘We don’t use mustard greens or garlic. Too strong,’ he adds.

She nods and says, ‘I like the rice fluffy and light not lumpy and hard.'

Later that evening he calls, ‘Oh, I thought I should let you know I drink only beer not chang or ara.’

'What are we, the local take-away?’ my husband rolls his eyes.

harvest offering

all night wild boars

gorge the paddy 

Failed Haiku, Volume 2, Issue, 15, March, 2017

We asked Sonam a few questions and she graciously made time to answer them. Here're the next:

THG: Many writers bank on experience to write, but eventually, a writer has to create something outside of it too... Any thoughts or advice?

Sonam: You’re absolutely right. Writing does not exist in a vacuum and therefore, our experience is most often the starting point from which we create. However, the main social function and indeed the gift of a writer is not to report “reality” as we experienced it but to recreate something outside ourselves. We often talk about how a haibun, haiku or tanka should be relatable and engaging. This does not mean that we focus only on the factuality of experience, presenting the truth and nothing but the truth. This is reportage not writing. As a writer we need imagination and the power of language to conjure something more than an actual experience. There is, however, a fallacy that obscure, bombastic or elusive images and language are essential to create something extraordinary. On the contrary, Ezra Pound, the American poet and critic argued that the creed of a writer is to use “language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.” It is not just our experience but how we use language to create, that is central to writing.

THG: And lastly, do you show your work in progress to anyone, or is it a solitary art that you keep close to your chest before letting it go for publication?

Sonam: Very rarely. This is mainly because I confess that I don’t have an organised place for the writing. Notes on the go and bits of descriptions that come while working, walking, gardening or cooking, are hurriedly scribbled on old bills, shopping lists etc. Some of these do end up in my poems, some unfortunately are lost. For example, this tanbun came to me while cleaning the bathroom. I opened the window to clean the pane and the clouds and the trees were in symmetry against a cloudless sky. It triggered the memory of a precious meeting. Tearing open and flattening out a toothpaste carton, I grabbed the pencil in my pocket to write down that sense of a new insight into an old memory which had coalesced in the moment of looking outside the window.

Short history of love

How can I forget when we first met? Even the ratio of

cloud swirls to the poplars against a cerulean sky was

perfect.

abandoned dovecots

the way the sun lights up

each nest-hole

Otata 20, August 2017

But I also found a tea-stained and snail-nibbled piece of paper with this:

what is there to say . . .

rain-sodden (something)

(something) shut

Such random scraps of indecipherable words don’t warrant sharing. So, I mostly work on my own.

Prompt:

Sonam's haibun gave me a hearty chuckle. Sometimes a good deed can lead to an awkward situation. The haiku works so well with the prose. Let us know your thoughts on this haibun. There’s no specific prompt this week, but I encourage you to stir some humour into your writing. Mostly, have fun!

We would like to thank Sonam for sharing her words and time with us, and especially for providing detailed feedback on many of the haibun posted in the comments. Her guidance has been greatly appreciated.

Haibun outside this prompt is welcome too.

Important: Since we're swamped with submissions, and our editors are only human, mistakes can happen. Please, please, remember to put your name, followed by your country, below each poem, even after revisions. It helps our editors; they won't have to type it in, saving them from potential typos. Thanks a ton!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PLEASE NOTE:

1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt. Please put your name and country of residence under your poem, it makes the editors' work easier. Thanks.

2. Share your best-polished pieces.

3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written.

Let it simmer for a while.

4. When poets give suggestions and if you agree to them - post your final edited version on top of your original version.

5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.

We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in the haikuKATHA monthly journal.