I can’t believe it’s back-to-school time already. Whether you’re in school yourself or just providing taxi services to small schoolbound humans, you probably just lost a certain amount of free time in your schedule.
That’s ok. This month’s poetry slam has your back. Here’s a riddle:
What’s shorter than a microstory but longer than a haiku, and has fewer rules than either one?
It’s an ancient Korean poetry form called the sijo. (Say see-zho, with the j pronounced like the French J in Jacques or [ɕʰidʑo] if you wanna be precise.)
Have a little bit of history, because have you met me?
Although the sijo bears quite a bit of resemblance to Japanese poetry forms (can you spot the two in our writing help archives?), the first sijo were actually written with Chinese characters during the Koryŏ Dynasty (14th century CE). At the time, written poetry was largely restricted to the educated and literate aristocracy. After the invention of Han’gŭl (the Korean written alphabet) by Sejong the Great in the mid fifteenth century, sijo as well as other poetic forms became popular with a wider audience.
Sijo poems were not just written, however. The form was originally a lyric form, akin to the ballad (or even the ballade), and was often accompanied by a melody.
How to write a sijo
Let’s explore the structure and content of a sijo before we lay out the exact number of syllables and what theme goes where. Trust me; it’ll all come together in the end. Then I’ll give you a couple examples of poems so that you can read them with a greater understanding of why they’re built the way they are.
Structure:
Sijo poetry consists of three lines, each of which has a rhythmic break in the middle. Because of this break, the sijo can be written as six lines in English. There is no absolute rule about the number of syllables in each line, as there is with haiku, but the lines must have 14-16 syllables and the poem should total 40-50 syllables. To make it easy on you, we’ll set a number of syllables that works out correctly. Just know that if you need to fudge a syllable here and there to keep your poem smooth and lyric? You can. Although there’s no hard-and-fast scansion rule you should prioritize lyrical flow in a sijo, because this was originally a musical form.
Content:
Like a sonnet, the sijo creates and develops a theme, then ends on a twist or countertheme. You can also think of the narrative structure of a sijo as a sort of “hero’s journey” poem, with a plot and resolution.
Sijo usually explore traditional values including loyalty, filial piety, respect, humanness, and a love for nature, but anything you feel deeply about is fair game. What you shouldn’t do is just describe a scene or person; the sijo is a chance to explore what about that scene or person you find important.
Bringing it together:
As you read the following structure, note that I’ve simplified the syllable counts for each line. I’ll give you the more detailed version in a second:
Line 1: Theme: 7 syllables, 8 syllables (15, with a break in the middle)
Line 2: Development: 6 syllables, 8 syllables (14, with a break near the middle. This line can also be 15 syllables, divided 7,8)
Line 3: Countertheme: 8 syllables; Conclusion: 8 syllables (16, with a break in the middle)
The traditional structure is even more strictly divided into conceptual groupings of syllables:
1: Theme: 3-4,4-4
2: Development: 2(3)-4, 4-4
3: Countertheme: 3-5,Conclusion: 4-4
Because English doesn’t lend itself easily to these tight internal syllabic groupings, go ahead and treat your lines as
1: 7,8
2: 6,8
3: 8,8
The comma is mandatory unless you write your sijo in six lines, in which case the comma is a line break and your poem will look like this:
7
8
6
8
8
8
Can I just read a few sijo?
Theory and numbers don’t add up without context. Here are a few examples for you. Look for the syllable structure and internal breaks as you read.
Here’s a sijo split into six lines. Remember that you can also read it as three lines. Which do you like better?
Snow is falling on pine woods
Blossoming white and exquisite
I’ll send a branch to my lord
To share its beauty, in good spirit
After he sees the snow flowers
Who cares if they start to split
by Chung Chul (1536-1593)
Translation by Kim Unsong
At Hansan Island Fortress
All alone, I see the moon so bright, as I sit on fortress walls.
My sword held close tonight I keep the watch with anxious heart.
Yet somewhere in the darkened night, a pipe lulls worry away.
Yi Sun-shin (ca. 1590 CE) (Translator unknown)
As you read this sijo, try to track the internal divisions of syllables in each line. Look for things like “just us two/in the photograph” – see the 3-4 division that happens naturally in the words? If you’re striving to get as close to a traditional sijo as possible, this is what you’re trying to achieve.
EVEN NOW
just us two in the photograph
his arm around my thin shoulder
That strong limb I then leaned against
would break so many falls
We stood like this but only once
but his strength holds me still
[Elizabeth St Jacques, Around the Tree of Light (1995)]
Although the preceding sijo are somber, the form is often playful, open to puns and wordplay like this:
A single sole was lost today, deep in the river Yalu,
Thrashing, twisting, torn to shreds with color quickly fading.
On the bridge a small boy laughs, holding out his empty shoe.
Creasy Clauser
2009 Sijo Writing Competition winning entry
Got it?
I hope you’re as excited as I am about sijo poetry. Remember: get your syllable count down, but value lyricism over exact count. Don’t make your words clumsy to fit into the syllables!
See you on the grid.
About the author:
Rowan submitted exactly one piece of microfiction to YeahWrite before being consumed by the editorial darkside. She spent some time working hard as our Submissions Editor before becoming YeahWrite’s Managing Editor in 2016. She was a BlogHer Voice of the Year in 2017 for her work on intersectional feminism, but she suggests you find and follow WOC instead. In real life she’s been at various times an attorney, aerialist, professional knitter, artist, graphic designer (yes, they’re different things), editor, secretary, tailor, and martial artist. It bothers her vaguely that the preceding list isn’t alphabetized, but the Oxford comma makes up for it. She lives in Portlandia with a menagerie which includes at least one other human. She tells lies at textwall and uncomfortable truths at CrossKnit.
