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Lesson 4: GUIDELINES: How to Compose Haiku
Selections for Commentary

Susumu Takiguchi, Instructor

 

It proved to be quite time-consuming to go through all the member's submissions, but it was rewarding to see how the haiku responded to my GUIDELINES: How to Compose Haiku.

Apart from the GUIDELINES, I had assumed that all understood that this was Traditional Japanese Haiku School but there were many poems without kigo or seasonal reference, or themes which are normally regarded unsuitable for the School. Authors names are not given, here.

Here are the results 
(numbers indicate guidelines the author felt the poem follows):

nasturtium
green parasols bow
to the rain

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12)

For some reason, nasturtium is not included in saijiki or in Higginson’s but that is not the main point. It gives a sense of season and reflects the going of nature. Two main attractions of this haiku are the words “parasols” and “bow”, neither of which worries me as personification or some such concern. As the author claims, it probably meets all 12 points. A nice haiku. The author tells us in part, “…In the time just before rain, there is a distinct change in the humidity where I live (which is usually dry) which causes the leaves to bend slightly (therefore, bow) to the promise of moisture.”

Thunder clouds,
through the rain
the first blue irises

Thunder clouds and rain are too many things cluttering a single haiku. Could they not be put in a single phrase or line? Apart from that, a sense of delight to see the first flowering of the irises and its fresh imagery are impressive. Perhaps, if the third line is moved to the middle, it might solve the “omomi” (heaviness), top-heavy and cluttered feeling and a bit awkward flow. The author may well have aimed that effect: giving some dark and oppressive atmosphere which was suddenly cleared by the beauty of the irises, which is now focused and accentuated. There is nothing to doubt that this haiku has kept all the GUIDELINES.

clothesline--
the cicada's husk
clings to a shirt

A cicada develops from a larva (several years underground), through a chrysalis, to the imago. The changeover from the second to the third stage takes place during a summer’s night. So, presumably the author had the washings on the clothesline overnight. A cicada’s husk (“utsu-semi” is one Japanese word for it) has many connotations and associations, with the feeling of emptiness and uselessness being a typical example. Such an entity (dead and discarded) is still “clinging” to something which a living human (“utsu-semi” also means a living person, or this world) wears, quite a poignant scene. A feeling of something profound about our existence is engendered by such an everyday ordinary object as a clothesline. There is some sad irony and sense of humour to throw in. There is everything which is needed for a fine Japanese haiku here.

the long shadow
of a rustling poplar --
still the heat

“Shadow” is everybody’s favourite theme and therefore liable to become clichés. There are quite a few such themes (herons, parking lot, spider, reflections, puddle, the sun in every dew drops etc. etc.), so much so that if I see them again I would SCREAM! However, every now and again one comes across a haiku which manages to escape that particular “trap”, like this one. The haiku is self-explanatory. And flawless from my point of view.

spider's web --
woven by moonlight
gone in the morning

My computer website once disappeared overnight but how un-haiku-like website sounds! This haiku brings us from the cyberspace back to nature. If this is the result of following my GUIDELINES I simply would be delighted as it reflects traditional Japanese haiku and more.

meditation hall--
following cricket song
rather than breath

I suppose the author practices zazen from time to time. If he/she can follow the cricket song rather than breath (or better still koan) while doing it, then he/she is as good as having entered into satori. I am slightly fed up with the association people draw between Zen and haiku and with haiku thus created. What a relief and a feeling of emancipation to read a haiku like this one, which has escaped that common mistake! I certainly did not expect such a haiku as this would emanate from my GUIDELINES. The credit, therefore, must be totally the author’s.

chill wind
flares a monk's robes -
skinny legs

A wonderful haiku. Nothing needs to be added by me. Just congratulations! (If the author “faked” this, I would not speak to him/her again.)

night of shooting stars
washing my daughter's first blood
from her underwear

Japan still being riddled with taboos, this theme is not normally accepted by traditional schools. I agonised what I should do about it in my Traditional Japanese School because if this wonderful haiku were to be rejected, what a poor school mine would be! I would put it without any hesitation as a fine example to WHCvanguard, which would be enriched by it at my School’s expense. Apart from the question of its acceptability, I would think this is one of the best haiku in English I have ever read.

summer moon
how many ways
I have failed you

This is one of the examples where the English language is used for good effect in haiku, in the sense that the same sentiment cannot be expressed in Japanese, at least with ease. I don’t take the nonsense of “I” entering into, and intruding upon, the poem, unless it would really be too blatant or ruin the poem. It probably is a touch too vague but not so vague as to render the poem meaningless. I also think that sometimes “mae-gaki” (a foreword, not a title) should be allowed to supplement, but not be part of a haiku. In this case, “Thinking of my husband” or something similar could be said, otherwise the reader would not know who this “you” is.

sultry evening
the curtain sways slightly
scent of gardenia

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]
[9] [10] [11 (1/2 point, no humor)]
[12]

“Curtain” is another clichés subject, so, what’s new or original about this haiku? Nothing. However, the answer to that is probably that taking everything into consideration (choice of words, development, some movement=gentle breeze and scent, good alliteration etc.) it’s just happens to be a successful haiku. One can feel the humidity, oppressive heat, atmosphere of stillness and the incredible smell of gardenia filling the room. Good.

Summer high tide --
a starched shirt abandoned
on the sea wall.

[1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 5, 8, 9?, 10, 11, 12]

Self-explanatory. Nothing to add from me. Well done!

a plume of smoke
from the opium incense . . .
Sunday siesta

Now, I can only trust the integrity of the author and believe that this is something which actually happened to him/her. I would have thought he/she was a holiday-maker or a traveller in Spain or Italy and chanced to see this scene as an onlooker. If he/she is the opium addict the whole meaning would be different. It’s a good shasei on an unconventional subject and skilfully executed.

After posting these comments to the list, I had the opportunity to talk to the author. He says that the "opium incense" in this haiku, is a flavour of incense popular in the US, at least among people who like incense. So, my comments are largely invalidated. Apology to the author but it does not change the work's being good.

summer moon --
within its ultra thinness
nestles the cosmos

This I feel is a beautiful and mind-expanding haiku, even if it uses such words as “ultra”, “thinness” and “cosmos”.  It is a triumph of the artistry of “words” which are after all the tool of our trade (“within”, “thinness” and especially “nestles” – a wonderful wordsmith). Personally, if a haiku makes me want to paint a haiga of it, to eat it or drink it, it is a successful haiku along the traditional Japanese lines. I have seen exactly what this haiku is depicting and therefore will try to paint a haiga one day.

green! outside
key lime
green! inside

[all, not sure about #5]

Well, I can guess who the author is by the style and the subject matter of this haiku. Maybe, as the author admits, the wording and the idea are too “clever”. But if we think this is an Issa-like sense of fun, it is good. The orthodox haijin of the traditional school might reject this, though.

meditation room
after the closing bell
a firefly

Another Zen haiku? Or just normal meditation? Whatever it is, it is a lovely haiku about fireflies. Again, the focus is not on the thing of itself (i.e. meditation) but outside it (i.e. after the event) when the author notices something which assumes some new meaning, or in this case a sense of relief and a moment of indulging in the beauty and wonder of nature. Very much in the spirit of traditional Japanese haiku.

Read: GUIDELINES: How to Compose Haiku

 

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