PoBo Form Master Class Series - The Ghazal

The Ghazal (pronounced guh-zzle) is an eastern form of poetry consisting of five to fifteen couplets, each of which should stand as a small poem on its own. This could lead you to wonder why you should bother with a ghazal instead of a tanka but don't desert me yet.

Each couplet is tied to the other through rhythm or count in that all of the lines are the same length, a rhyme that (usually) immediately precedes a refrain. The design is elegant and so distinctly Persian in flavour that soon enough you won't bother stepping into wasabi when you can dance with curry.

The first stanza shows the reader the rhyme and refrain since it is used in both lines of the couplet. This establishes the scheme that is to be echoed in the second line of each subsequent strophe. The poet can chose to make the last stanza a signature through invoking their name in either first, second or third person.

Agha Shahid Ali explains the intricacies of the formula in an article on his page PoetryNet: The Ghazal far more elegantly than I.

This is one of my favourite examples of the poem formula. This doesn't fit the formula perfectly since it's a translation from the original Farsi but many of the elements are here. It's by the famous Sufi poet, Jalaluddin Rumi:

Ghazal 838

if you pass your night
and merge it with dawn
for the sake of heart
what do you think will happen

if the entire world
is covered with the blossoms
you have labored to plant
what do you think will happen

if the elixir of life
that has been hidden in the dark
fills the desert and towns
what do you think will happen

if because of
your generosity and love
a few humans find their lives
what do you think will happen

if you pour an entire jar
filled with joyous wine
on the head of those already drunk
what do you think will happen

go my friend
bestow your love
even on your enemies
if you touch their hearts
what do you think will happen​

Translated by Nader Khalili
Rumi, Fountain of Fire
Cal-Earth, September 1994

This is my attempt from a few years ago:
Love's Stain Upon Me (a ghazal).

I hope you all try it and enjoy.

Good start, Miz Champ! I thought I'd post a few Lit ghazals. Not mine; I only have one and I don't think it's very good. I need to practice the form more. But Cordelia is one of Lit's poetic wonders who, sadly, is rarely around anymore. She's excels at form poetry. Here are two of her ghazals.

Ghazal in ¾ Time
by Cordelia©

Rendering my words into songs may, from the dance
Kiss damp orange music pulled away from the dance.

We touch as though we knew the absence of roses.
Touching again, we move in disarray from the dance.

I wipe a tear from the page where you are drawing,
Stringing lines to remove the bouquet from the dance.

Though you spoke to me of afters, not of nevers,
We move through green laughter as if we’d pray from the dance.

Overwhelmed by the frost on your kiln-fired brow,
I discern the porcelain sobriquet from the dance.

Reaching into the marigolds between us, think:
How the weather takes a holiday from the dance.

Loosen your frown, unbutton your anxieties;
Let this lover remove all dismay from the dance.


Hyaline Ghazal
by Cordelia©

Untangle for me, the ocean; shore-combed by the tide in waves,
Until it mesmerizes, as your hair, undignified in waves.

We settle in like mortar, comfortable between sullen bricks.
Letting time contemplate restful minutes, unsatisfied in waves.

Pluck stems of fevered anxiety from your oft-bargained smile,
Quasi-contraband, and only briefly qualified in waves.

I needed reassurance, coated with temporary hope.
You needn’t have soaked it in the brine of lies, beautified in waves.

I marvel at your characteristic silence, phosphorescent,
Tide-stoked, plankton-bright, obvious; nothing personified by waves.

So I style elaborate tapestry, woven from reticence.
Let me be the seamstress who encloses us, side by side, in waves.

Refracted

Dust commenced upon my goals refracted.
Pause abrupt by trauma; self refracted.

Oils, in motive pure, provoke creation.
Art expressed the light of hope refracted.

Loving touches dance along my psyche
test the hardened heart and trust refracted.

Fed addiction swells, compels my pen’s flow,
forming written words of screams refracted.

Bible set. Ancestral, Christian veil worn.
Lady/ freak entwined. The role refracted.

Ang, thanks for posting Cordelia's poems. I thought of her as I was writing this up, I just don't know why I missed citing her work; I guess I just knew, in my bones, that you'd fill in the blanks I'd left.

LadynSt, are you going to try another that will adhere more rigidly to the formula? I see in the offering here you eschewed the rhyme. You've got a good poem, but without the scheme, can it be called a canonical ghazal or should we name it "modified"?

I feel a little presumptuous explaining some of these features to those of you who are studying and/or have a literature course or credit on your CV, but when I was researching this form I fell in love with Jallaludin Rumi's poetry. Through reading about him I gained a real understanding in the spiritualism of the Whirling Dervish dance of prayer. Rumi puts it quite succinctly, he drinks, he spins his prayer, he falls down and in love, I think I'd be a groupie if he were on the slam circuit today.

To continue the discussion of ghazals: you'll note, if you all read more Rumi ghazals, is that in the "radif" stanza (the final signature) he frequently refers to drunkeness or wine, this is another classical element of Sufi poetry that he draws on. Most ancient verse is written as a prayer or a song, this is why it is so full of praise and rhythm. I think that as a person learns the poetry formulae favoured by a culture, they need to determine the purpose behind the exercise. Modern poetry gains a boost from the practice of the older art forms and studying what they're about.

So, more, more, more examples.

For added enjoyment, here is a ghazal in Urdu by Mirza Ghalib (note his takhallus in the final couplet):

nah thā kuchh to ḳhudā thā kuchh nah hotā to ḳhudā hotā
ḍuboyā mujh ko hone ne nah hotā maiñ to kyā hotā

huʾā jab ġham se yūñ be-ḥis to ġham kyā sar ke kaṭne kā
nah hotā gar judā tan se to zānū par dharā hotā

huʾī muddat kih ġhālib mar gayā par yād ātā hai
vuh har ik bāt par kahnā kih yūñ hotā to kyā hotā

It is a wonderful example of why he is widely considered the greatest Urdu language poet—the poem has 50-some different meanings in Urdu (and ergo it is not really translatable, but there is a couplet by couplet exegesis here.)


And now I must put some serious thought into writing one myself.

champagne1982 said:

LadynSt, are you going to try another that will adhere more rigidly to the formula? I see in the offering here you eschewed the rhyme. You've got a good poem, but without the scheme, can it be called a canonical ghazal or should we name it "modified"?

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LOL
Yes, more practice to come. I just liked that one the way it was, but it was not meant to be a driveby poem.

Gulp .. help

UnderYourSpell said:

Gulp .. help

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Me too! Somebody needs to translate that article for me.

* No enjambment between couplets. Think of each couplet as a separate poem, in which the first line serves the function of the octave of a Petrarchan sonnet and the second line the sestet - that is, there must be a turn, or volta, between lines 1 and 2 of each couplet. Thus, certain kinds of enjambments would not work even WITHIN the couplets, the kind that would lead to a caesura in line 2. One must have a sense that line 2 is amplifying line 1, turning things around, surprising us.

This makes absolutely NO sense to me. Can somebody please explain. (Please remember that I'm a public school graduate)

Safe_Bet said:

Me too! Somebody needs to translate that article for me.

* No enjambment between couplets. Think of each couplet as a separate poem, in which the first line serves the function of the octave of a Petrarchan sonnet and the second line the sestet - that is, there must be a turn, or volta, between lines 1 and 2 of each couplet. Thus, certain kinds of enjambments would not work even WITHIN the couplets, the kind that would lead to a caesura in line 2. One must have a sense that line 2 is amplifying line 1, turning things around, surprising us.

This makes absolutely NO sense to me. Can somebody please explain. (Please remember that I'm a public school graduate)

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Well, I'll try to help.

That part of the article is, of course, comparing the structure of a ghazal couplet to that of a sonnet. In a Petrarchan sonnet, the octave establishes the topic of the poem, while the sestet presents a different idea and perspective, turning (the volta) on the ninth line—traditionally, the octave expounds upon a problem and the sestet presents a solution or a conclusion.

In a ghazal couplet, the first line traditionally presents an idea and the second line expands upon the concept of the first, with each line its own thought, but related to the thought that precedes it. Furthermore, each couplet is as its own poem, with its own complete sentiment—therefore, a sentence cannot span more than one couplet and each line in the couplet must stand as its own idea. For example, in the Ghalib poem I posted, the first couplet can mean something like this:

The first line establishes an idea: the poet is thinking about his existence and the existence of God. In the second line he is taking the thought further and wondering about his non-existence.

Equinoxe said:

Well, I'll try to help.

That part of the article is, of course, comparing the structure of a ghazal couplet to that of a sonnet. In a Petrarchan sonnet, the octave establishes the topic of the poem, while the sestet presents a different idea and perspective, turning (the volta) on the ninth line—traditionally, the octave expounds upon a problem and the sestet presents a solution or a conclusion.

In a ghazal couplet, the first line traditionally presents an idea and the second line expands upon the concept of the first, with each line its own thought, but related to the thought that precedes it. Furthermore, each couplet is as its own poem, with its own complete sentiment—therefore, a sentence cannot span more than one couplet and each line in the couplet must stand as its own idea. For example, in the Ghalib poem I posted, the first couplet can mean something like this:

When I was nothing, then God existed; if I were nothing, then God would exist
"Being" drowned me; if I did not exist, then what would I be?​

The first line establishes an idea: the poet is thinking about his existence and the existence of God. In the second line he is taking the thought further and wondering about his non-existence.

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That's very helpful. And your explantion that each couplet is a complete sentiment, each line a separate idea, and each line builds on the preceding shows why enjambment--running sentences across lines--would be difficult or impossible.

UnderYourSpell said:

Gulp .. help

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Safe_Bet said:

Me too! Somebody needs to translate that article for me.

* No enjambment between couplets. Think of each couplet as a separate poem, in which the first line serves the function of the octave of a Petrarchan sonnet and the second line the sestet - that is, there must be a turn, or volta, between lines 1 and 2 of each couplet. Thus, certain kinds of enjambments would not work even WITHIN the couplets, the kind that would lead to a caesura in line 2. One must have a sense that line 2 is amplifying line 1, turning things around, surprising us.

This makes absolutely NO sense to me. Can somebody please explain. (Please remember that I'm a public school graduate)

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Don't get too torn up about this. It's really a fun exercise, especially with each of you being so fluent in metrical speech. You may not realize it, but you have fab skilz.

It's just a set of 5 little quatrains that relate rhythmically and in rhyme to each other, if only, as LadynSt has shown with her first offering, in that they share a refrain.

Do like Rumi and turn 'em into a drinking game that ends with a mad dance where we all fall down in giggling interesting piles.

I've only done one of these, so far, but I think I like the form. *g*

-----

The Suitor

Unbidden, I come to you--an aching love
that seeks, from you, nothing more than making love.

With warm, whispered words I offer you myself,
anything to keep you from forsaking love.

I know how hard it can be to carry on;
it seems the world is bent on just taking love.

Just a smile brightens things considerably,
and our hearts simply cannot be faking love.

Let us not disturb you unwillingly,
or find we are mechanics of breaking love.

Goodness me Remec that's a me leaping on you and ripping your clothes off poem
I'm off to write frantically now

champagne1982 said:

Don't get too torn up about this. It's really a fun exercise, especially with each of you being so fluent in metrical speech. You may not realize it, but you have fab skilz.

It's just a set of 5 little quatrains that relate rhythmically and in rhyme to each other, if only, as LadynSt has shown with her first offering, in that they share a refrain.

Do like Rumi and turn 'em into a drinking game that ends with a mad dance where we all fall down in giggling interesting piles.

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Good advice. And I find the ghazal a fairly difficult form to write well in, so we all have forms that work better or worse for us. I'd actually rather write a sestina than a ghazal, and that's a lot of work!

Dark State of Mind

I don't know that I understood the mechanics of the genre. The hardest thing for me to wrap my brain around was that each couplet could, but didn't need to be, dependent and that they must be able to stand on their own.

Please feel free to rake this first attempt.


Dark State of Mind

Steady and willful, screams, whistling, my ears ring
Nauseates and imposes the dark state of mind

Crystalline visions teardrops melting, eyes deceive
Pushes me inward toward my dark state of mind

Cardiac fibrillation, blood rushing, heart skips
Carries me onward, into my dark state of mind

All around, swooping, clawing, crawling up my soul
Fleeing, retreating into that dark state of mind

Flaxen tresses, steamy fountain of life, calming
Watching, feeling death conquer my dark state of mind

Absolute silence, soft familiar walls, I dream
Demons close the door to Mickey’s dark state of mind

champagne1982 said:

I shared a bottle of wine with my friend, and all we saw was bottom.
He mentioned that we were nearing the end, and all we saw was bottom.

I stood by the wall with my pants at my feet, my arse was cold on the stone.
He gripped my thighs right where my hips bend, and all we saw was bottom.

We went sailing in a clear lagoon but I wound up chin deep in the tide
you leaned over and offered your hand, to me lend and all we saw was bottom.

The mailman approached with a bill in his sack, I dreaded the balance we owed
I figured we could trip him, turn him end over end, and all we saw was bottom.

So this poem is to illustrate, how with a kiss my ass 'tude, ghazals are easy
I'll turn round and run, before my guts the girls rend, and all they'll see is bottom. ​

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Wouldn't that make this poem more of a "Gazelle"?

Angeline said:

Good advice. And I find the ghazal a fairly difficult form to write well in, so we all have forms that work better or worse for us. I'd actually rather write a sestina than a ghazal, and that's a lot of work!

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Writing a ghazal, or I should say attempting to write a ghazal, is enough to send me dashing back to villanelles. LOL

Seriously though, I do want to be comfortable in many forms, even though the villanelle may always be my warm, fuzzy blanket.

LadynStFreknBed said:

Writing a ghazal, or I should say attempting to write a ghazal, is enough to send me dashing back to villanelles. LOL

Seriously though, I do want to be comfortable in many forms, even though the villanelle may always be my warm, fuzzy blanket.

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I feel about terzanelles and sonnets the way you do about villanelles! They're way easier for me to write. I could write Elizabethan sonnets in my sleep. Once you get that rhythm in your head it's like a tune that you write new words for with each sonnet.

But I did remember this ghazel I wrote a few years ago under my Eleanora Day alt.

Amante VI (Ghazal)
by Eleanora Day©

Amante, there are sorrowful pools in our eyes.
Sometimes we drown in the depths in our eyes.

Those nights are ancient, they bleed memories.
We fall together, breaking rules in our eyes.

Forget what love is; it's on the tip of my tongue.
The world and we two are fools in our eyes.

Look here at them striated amber and dark.
Our souls are gifts rare as jewels in our eyes.

Pájaro triste, míreme y vea el Sol en esta noche.
Míreme, míreme before night cools in our eyes.

Comfort with kisses; it's on the tip of my tongue.
Unravel the hours, unlearn the schools in our eyes.

Lmao

PF&D Forum Nightmare

Poets play at form, an antic nightmare
failed my first attempt, a frantic nightmare

Prof. champagne with ruler in hand strikes me
Lustful, eager dreams, romantic nightmare

Leaving comfort, cautious, error smudges
foreign rhyme, new form, semantic nightmare

Culture old, all born abroad allusive
grasp of Yankees, long Atlantic nightmare

Tricky maze of rhyme within line puzzle
Writing ghazal, one gigantic nightmare

Attempt #1

Is this right


When the Wind Blows

Rain falls at a furious slant, when the wind blows.
Survival on the high seas, scant, when the wind blows.

Sleep ruptured; insomniac fret tossed to and fro.
Banshees pierce nocturnal velvet, when the wind blows.

His cries speak my name in the still darkness of night.
Wetness, my whispers do return, when the wind blows.

I speak low when I speak of love and you, combined.
For you are all I hear inside, when the wind blows.

My heart is a cavern of amorous delight.
In chambers, closely you reside, when the wind blows.

Angeline said:

I feel about terzanelles and sonnets the way you do about villanelles! They're way easier for me to write. I could write Elizabethan sonnets in my sleep. Once you get that rhythm in your head it's like a tune that you write new words for with each sonnet.

But I did remember this ghazel I wrote a few years ago under my Eleanora Day alt.

Amante VI (Ghazal)
by Eleanora Day©

Amante, there are sorrowful pools in our eyes.
Sometimes we drown in the depths in our eyes.

Those nights are ancient, they bleed memories.
We fall together, breaking rules in our eyes.

Forget what love is; it's on the tip of my tongue.
The world and we two are fools in our eyes.

Look here at them striated amber and dark.
Our souls are gifts rare as jewels in our eyes.

Pájaro triste, míreme y vea el Sol en esta noche.
Míreme, míreme before night cools in our eyes.

Comfort with kisses; it's on the tip of my tongue.
Unravel the hours, unlearn the schools in our eyes.

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love the alt name

sassynyc said:

love the alt name

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You're the first person who got it without me having to explain.

2nd try

Fallen

Languid in a summer breeze, her sweat sparkles by pale light
Sailboat swims on calm water, gently rocking and rolling

Dankness reeks of jasmine oil, cold cash waits on the dresser
Hookers bathed in silver rings, The Doors rocking and rolling

Thumping blades keep them aloft, night vision searches below
Finger squeeze, angel of death, duty rocking and rolling

Late night friends, drunken lovers, throwing darts and shooting pool
Outside, wind whips desert sand, James Brown rocking and rolling

Blinding flash and deafening clap, staccato flashes reveal
Angels working overtime, death is rocking and rolling

Pine box draped with stars and stripes, white cotton grips brass handle
Brothers lift and carry him, casket rocking and rolling

Angeline said:

You're the first person who got it without me having to explain.

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Sassy you are SUCH a teacher's pet!

SHOW OFF!!!