Your World in (up to) Seventeen Syllables

[Note to my haijin friends: I wrote this in 2017 at the very start of my haiku journey]

An acquaintance recently suggested looking into brain puzzles and exercises to maintain and improve mental sharpness. The key to unlocking the potential and power of the brain lies in getting the app or subscribing to an online course. I propose another pathway to keep the intellect sharp and creative powers alive — try writing haiku.

My only investment is a blue-lined spiral notebook and a visit to the poetry section of the library or online journals.  Trying to fit descriptions, thoughts, and a measure of mystery within the framework of a maximum of seventeen syllables provides a considerable amount of mental and creative stimulation.

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HAIKU (hi-koo’) is a very short form of Japanese poetry originating in the seventeenth century. Traditional English Language haiku consists of seventeen syllables in three phrases of five, seven, and five syllables each, usually with a focus on some aspect of nature, the seasons, or the human condition.

In modern times, the season is not necessarily the primary focus, and the strictly five/seven/five structure in English language haiku has evolved over the decades into freer forms.

Nevertheless, traditional principles continue to apply: No superfluous words. Use of imagery instead of ideas or statements. Non-rhyming lines. A brief moment in time, in the present. A sudden flash of connection or illumination—the haiku moment.

Japanese haiku poets of centuries ago depicted a stark, simple, even minuscule aspect of the natural landscape (a flower, an insect, raindrops, a snowflake) — or sometimes monumental, like Mount Fuji — and leapt to an observation that enlightened, delighted, moved, or surprised. The emotions and insights that these poems engendered continue to resonate with modern-day readers.

For example, the revered haiku masters introduced humor and whimsy:

Stupid hot melons
rolling like fat idiots
out from leafy shade!
—Kyora (1651-1704)

Yellow autumn moon….
unimpressed, the scarecrow stands
simply looking bored
—Issa (1763-1827)

Friend, that open mouth
reveals your whole interior…..
Silly hollow frog!
—Anonymous

I want to sleep
Swat the flies
Softly, please.
—Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902)

or express the timeless agony of yearning:

Amorous cat, alas
You too must yowl with your love…..
Or even worse, without!
—Yaha (1662-1740)

She watches
satisfied after love
he lies
looking up at nothing
—(unattributed)

or capture the essence of a season:

a summer river being crossed
how pleasing
with sandals in my hands
—Buson (1716-1784)

or deliver a haunting image:

No oil to read by
I am off to bed, but ah!
My moonlit pillow
—Basho (1644-1694)

quiet evening . . .

the host slides the shoji

to show her roses

—Kanchan Chatterjee (a modern haiku master living in India)

or elevate an everyday setting with unexpected insight:

Oh former renter
I know it all, all, down to
The very cold you felt
—Issa

or convey the richness of the senses, as does Chiyo-ni (1703-1775), Japan’s celebrated female haiku master, a Buddhist nun who represented a female esthetic and emotional perspective:

Shocking – the red of
lacquered fingernails against
a white chrysanthemum.

Just for today,
using men
for rice planting.

or make the reader think twice:

White chrysanthemum…
Before that perfect flower,
Scissors hesitate
—Buson

or depict a moment in time that compels the reader to ponder:

While I turned my head
that traveler I’d just passed
melted into mist
—Shiki (1867-1902)

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For me, a novice (in 2017), adhering to the classic 5/7/5 framework presents a challenge but provides plenty of creative space. It’s like trying to convey as much as possible within the combination of words, but at the same time paring them down (like my parents did to reduce the cost of a Western Union Telegram). The disciplined framework still allows for considerable variation of subject, language, and tone, as you have seen in the work of the haiku masters.

Interestingly, the three-line haiku was originally part of a five-line poem in a literary word game popular with poets and Buddhist monks in the ninth through twelfth centuries. The first writer composed three lines of 5/7/5 sounds and the second responded with two lines in 7/7 sounds. The exercise continued progressively, in the style of a chain letter.

STARTING WITH SEASONS, I WRITE:

in the early spring
I push my spade to wet earth
and turn the season

under summer sun
I smear my skin with cream
and wait for gifts of gold

apple of autumn
ripening innocently
then . . . warm to my bite

a scoop of sherbet
icy-yellow in the sky
melt-proof for the night

NEXT, A LOVE STORY THAT DOESN’T END WELL:

the connecting thrill
of hello between lovers
briefly astounds them

on love’s adventure
careening along the rails
we missed our station

my blunt instrument
a mallet crashing downward
you’re in the way

haiku of despair
to depict love, chop into
seventeen pieces

CONFRONTING DEATH OF A LOVED ONE:

why did it happen?
[left intentionally blank]
words flee the dark page

brushing off your stone
I ruin a pair of fine gloves
no matter to me

🍃     🌿     ☘     🌱     🌾

I invite you to share your own haiku in a Comment below. Thank you, readers and writers.