Sam Munmun wrote an amazing review of BroKen Rengay: Unruly Poetry. She posted it on Medium, Good Reads, and her blog, Sam’s Library. I’m including the blog link to Sam’s Library so that you can see Sam’s other reviews.
Read on for Sam’s review and her video.
Sam’s Review of BroKen Rengay: Unruly Poetry
“Pain is the perfect weight loss plan
Food tastes bitter
Even cheesecake makes me flee.” (From “Pain Will Do That”)
“BroKen Rengay: Unruly Poetry” challenges the traditional Japanese poetry style of rengay with a fresh, modern twist. Nolcha Fox, Melissa Lemay, and Barbara Leonhard co-authored 30 six-part poems that combine cleverness, honesty, sharp social commentary, and humour.
“Off the Rails” launches the collection with ethereal, post-apocalyptic elegance. Trains, dragons, and clouds heavy with ‘rainbows’ (backpacks brimming with colour) and grief establish the tone for the turmoil and beauty ahead.
In “Impossible Silence,” ‘shadows crawl with gritted teeth’ and ‘in pockets of clouds/phantasmagoric light shines’.
“Glazed” is a witty poem: ‘I run with a donut in one hand and / a calorie counter in the other’.
“It’s Somebody’s Fault” is a conglomeration of pets: a cat, a dog, and a parrot.
“Barbecued” is a clever poem where the speaker’s “inner critic” turns into a strange and creepy dinner host.
“Freefall” examines heartbreak and its sedimentation in the deep sea:
“Love is a dive from a balcony / with a broken railing. We jump, / trusting we’ll land. Somewhere.”
“Joy Comes in the Morning” ends the book with spiritual irreverence and comedic surrender, where even Death wants a cup of coffee. It’s a fitting finale that blends existential dread with caffeine-fueled defiance.
“Distrustment” explores betrayal and emotional combustion in dark, combustible metaphors: “I am still / doused in gasoline— / have a light?”
The mood of the poems swings from playful comedy to aching sorrow, from stinging satire to weighty reflection. The three poets’ voices entwine seamlessly while still showcasing their distinct styles. Irony, fury, play, and melancholy permeate the pages. These are not mild poems; they seize and soothe, murmur and roar.
The imagery in these poems darts from everyday moments to bizarre, hilarious scenes. In “You’re the Cream in My Cadaver,” love turns dark, absurd, and even macabre:
“Sweet love poems make me / gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag / and give me cavities.”
Again, the poem “Snake Plant” uses the metaphor of a houseplant to hint at the poisonous nature of the mother-in-law (Her tongue is forked/She can’t be trusted/ to tell the truth).
Each poem in this collection appears to be a dynamic conversation between three friends: one person starts with a heavy thought, another jumps in with something that makes you laugh, and the third takes it somewhere completely unexpected. The poets hand off ideas to each other like runners in a relay race, but instead of a baton, they’re passing emotions, grief transforms into joy, quiet moments explode into chaos, and serious thoughts suddenly become playful: “My inner critic is hosting a barbecue in my brain.” A unique stanza pattern —three lines, then two, then three, then two, then three works like a heartbeat that speeds up and slows down, keeping readers on their toes with shifts and surprises.
Sam created an entertaining video about the book.
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 
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