PART 2 VOTING:
As participants, you were asked to choose the poem that you believe BENEFITED
THE MOST from being revised, and to give the reasons for your choice. If you
felt that in some cases the original is a better haiku than the revised version,
you were invited to tell for which poem (or poems) this applies, and to explain
why. You were also invited to offer suggestions for further improvement. Thank
you very much for your sensitive and enlightening responses! There is much here
for us to think about. Each response teaches us something. The poems' authors,
the commentators, and the readers learn and grow through focused commentaries.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. - Ferris
THE RESPONSES:
#4.
ORIGINAL (kirsty)
fresh snow--
how warm this black stone
from the wood stove
#4. REVISED (kirsty)
winter doldrums...
a beach stone from the hearth
smooth on my cheek
I think the revised version of this poem is 100% more effective than the
original. There is no conflict or resolution offered in the first haiku, merely
an observation which does not necessarily redeem. Not only is the subject matter
more explicit in the revised version, there is a personal, emotive quality to
it. How often have we experienced "winter doldrums"? To place the
stone on the cheek is another gesture which speaks worlds. The reader
understands the depth of the doldrums with just that gesture and we understand,
too, the healing quality some objects from nature can offer...especially in the
depths of winter. A wonderful haiku. (Marjorie Buettner)
Of the entries to kukai of originals with revised versions it is my vote that #7
was most improved as revised.
#7.
ORIGINAL (Devar Dahl)
flooded creek
a fencepost straddles
the beaver dam
#7. REVISED (Devar Dahl)
spring flood
a fencepost joins
the beaver dam
I would be most interested in knowing if the author of this haiku might share
the process followed in getting from the original to the revision.
(Jeanne)
#11. ORIGINAL (Carol
Raisfeld)
dark morning
waiting at the window
still alone
#11. REVISED (Carol Raisfeld)
waking alone
the morning windows
still dark
In changing the last line, "still alone", to "waking alone"
this poet improved this haiku by substituting a concrete image for a concept. By
placing the "waking alone" in the first line, he/she improved the
flow. In re-writing the second two lines, the poet made room for the reader to
experience this moment; and again, he/she converted to a concrete image.
(Laurene)
My selection for most improved is:
#12. ORIGINAL (Carol Raisfeld)
a flock of starlings
over the rooftop
black clouds
#12. REVISED (Carol Raisfeld)
starlings -
plumes of soot
over the rooftops
The revised version is leaner, clearer, and more interesting than the original.
The choice of "plumes of soot" makes the difference. It gives the poem
a depth of feeling the original does not have. Nice work, Mystery Poet! (Steve)
#16. (lynne steel)
autumn moon
the cubans' raft
makes it to shore
It's night on the sea that lies between the island of Cuba and the shores of
America. The raft is filled with people, young and old, fleeing their restricted
lives for America , where even now, after recent frightful terrorist attacks,
the freedom of opportunity to build better lives still calls to them.
The raft they cling to has been tossed by winds and waters for days. At last
they can see the dark edge of the continent rising up before them. A shaft of
autumn moonlight stretches across the sea and into the shallows. With the moon
showing the way, the raft lands safely with all aboard.
This well-constructed poem creates an artful juxtaposition that stirs a concrete
sense of drama in the reader's perceptions. And as the reader is drawn into the
poet's imagery, it is amazing how such a tiny poem can evoke not only a sense of
the passage of time, but also one of spatial expansion.
Not only does the raft make it to shore, but so does the moon in its journey of
light over the dark sea, to the shallows and beach itself. One hears the sound
of moving waters, feels the sea's energy and wetness, and sees the play of the
moon's reflection on the surface of the depths. As the poem is explored, the
reader imagines the fears and anxieties of the refugees...and as the mainland
emerges, their rising hopes and dreams.
In this way, in simple everyday words, the poet manages to create not only the
relative human reality of a dangerous and difficult flight, but also a sense of
the absolute rightness of the outcome: those who risk the flight from tyranny,
find the freedom they are seeking.
There are elements of spiritual and poetic depth in this poem known in Japanese
haiku tradition as "sabi," "aware," and "sono
mama," respectively in this case. These qualities subtly engender in the
reader, responses through imagery and suggestion... of loneliness and loss:
fleeing refugees; with evocations of anxiety through the political immediacy of
this event: the dark night, the empty sea,the CUBAN raft, the distant refuge;
with a presentation of things just as they are happening by themselves...a
tumultuous journey in winds and waves, under a calm and steady autumn moon.
And at the end of it,the invested reader too breathes a sigh of relief and
satisfaction. The journey is successful, and is over! This is a powerful,
magical haiku. (joyce maxner)
#19. ORIGINAL (Marjorie
Buettner)
this blue hour
how the snow reflects the color
of the sky
#19. REVISED (Marjorie Buettner)
blue dusk
how snow collects the color
of the sky
This is one of my choices for my favorites. As I mentioned before, I believe
this could benefit from a bit more pruning: losing the "blue" from the
first line and the "how" from the second. Reading the original
version, I see that the poet has dropped two other extraneous words,
"this" in the first line, and a third "the" from the second.
I feel this poet is on the right track. (Laurene)
*
#19
I feel that the change of just a couple of words in this poem makes a huge
difference. I love the term "how snow collects the color" and for what
ever reason, I feel easier with blue dusk than "the blue hour." All in
all I can feel this moment in both haiku but find the revised version settles
more comfortably in my mind. Again, not an easy decsion. (MaryJane Turner)
#20. ORIGINAL
(MaryJane Turner)
the little birds go
from feeder to feeder-
Thanksgiving
#20. REVISED (MaryJane Turner)
little birds scratch
beneath tangled branches --
the family gathers
I felt the original verse actually kept to some of the Hibiscus School
principles: there is the use of NATURAL SYNTAX and COMMON LANGUAGE, the verse is
FOCUSED and CONCISE, there is KIGO/SEASONALITY and it presents a CONCRETE IMAGE.
Frankly, I like these little birds moving from feeder to feeder and the
JUXTAPOSITION with Thanksgiving.
On the other hand, the revised version's birds are even more interesting! There
is more resonance in their scratching beneath the branches. The straightforward
"feeder to feeder" associated with Thanksgiving is a little obvious; I
think of the little birds being children -- t-giving dinner at her Mom's the
Sunday before and a visit, then the day's drive to his parents for Dinner on
Thanksgiving (because this year it is their turn) and a two day visit and then
to Aunt Martha's Saturday morning for a visit and yet more turkey before driving
home for work on Monday.
But these scratching birds! Ha! There is more work involved and the landscape is
more interesting (tangled branches v/ feeders). This adds a bit of mystery and
profundity to this juxtaposition of family and birds. When we drive to her
parents then his and who knows else to "celebrate" the holidays ---
isn't there a bit more to it that gaily hopping from feeder to feeder? Isn't
there more a bit of scratching beneath branches ("my sister-in-law drives
me nuts... an EIGHT HOUR DRIVE... she always insults my cooking....next year
let's just stay home...this might be our last holiday with Grandpa Joe")?
And then back to the direct image of birds -- it too is more than just
"hopping" about in order to survive!
The only problem I have with the revised is the last line -- "the family
gathers" at first reading, I thought it meant the bird's family. Maybe
"our family gathers" or "Thanksgiving day". Or maybe not!
(Penelope)
MY VOTE FOR MOST IMPROVED: #22
#22: ORIGINAL
(Penelope Davis Greenwell)
Autumn rain;
a knock next door
breaks the silence.
#22. REVISED (Penelope Davis Greenwell
a stranger
at the neighbor's door -
autumn rain
This part of the kukai was the most challenging -- I was really impressed by the
high level of improvement throughout the entries, and could easily vote for
several others as most improved. I think one of the reasons I chose this one is
because the changes are so subtle, yet create an entirely new and vivid mood.
Many others had more obvious changes -- and wonderful results. But I love that
this one shows that just a few seemingly minor changes can make a powerful
difference. There is something haunting and almost disturbing about "a
stranger at the neighbor's door." The fact that it's autumn and raining
adds mystery and melancholy. Beautifully done!! (Billie Wilson)
*
#22
If I could have chosen 3 favorite haiku, this one would have been included in my
votes. This poet has done a very good re-write. Reading the original version, I
am left a bit flat. Switching the position of the lines gives this haiku a
punch. Starting with "a stranger" in the first line grabs me. The
second line, "at the neighbor's door" heightens the interest.
Unfortunately, in these tense times, the third line, "autumn rain"
sets off alarm bells. Excellent re-write. (Laurene Polst)
Semi - Vote on revision that most
benefited:
#23. ORIGINAL (Penelope Davis Greenwell)
a little cold
but unable to leave-
my mother's grave
#23. REVISED (Penelope Davis Greenwell)
bare branches-
we stop to read
the gravestones
*
#24.
ORIGINAL (Billie Wilson)
Music to sleep by:
Night-rain-muted tympani,
Woodwind through birches.
#24. REVISED (Billie Wilson)
silent telephone--
all night the wind and rain
through bare birches
In this revision the writer decided to show, not tell. It is much better though,
with much amusement, I think that "wind and rain" have a certain
meaning in Japanese poetry...quite pertinent to a long night. Perhaps this is
intended? It works. "silent telephone" doesn't quite make it for me
but I am sure that there is an appropriate alternative which will give the same
meaning....no-one has called, or the phone line has been taken down by a
branch...anyway, no phone calls. Then we move on to loneliness. Alone again? Not
with "wind and rain". (kirsty karkow)
The poem that benefited the most from being revised, from my point of view, is
the haiku number 25.
#25. ORIGINAL (Billie
Wilson)
Harsh winds rasp on ice
Words December understands . . .
My heart grows quite still.
#25. REVISED (Billie Wilson)
a filling moon--
the harsh rasp of wind
against ice
I prefer the revised version because the kigo is implied instead of clearly
stated. The second version is more tightly written. The two verbs in the
original make the haiku heavy. The revised version gained in smoothness and
works best for me.
The haijin capitalized the beginning of every line in the original. I find it to
bring each of them to an abrupt stop instead of permitting me to linger in
thought.
The second version suggests what the author saw instead of telling how he/she
feels. The revised version contains references to two senses instead of only
one. (Angèle Lux)
ADDITIONAL COMMENTS by Ferris Gilli:
#9. (Richard Watkins)
crystalized trees
draped with shattered limbs-
a memorable storm
Richard's poem evokes memories of trees completely covered in ice---believe it
or not, in the Deep South. When the temperature and the precipitation is just
right, the rain freezes as it hits something solid, getting thicker and thicker
on the trees, until limbs break under the weight. Power lines often came down as
well. The temperature drops very fast, and by the time the sun is shining, the
whole world is ice, brilliant and glittering and dangerous.
This poem, while vivid and powerful, could be made stronger and more effective
through sharper focus. Also, rather than TELLING readers that it is "a
memorable storm," the last line could be put to better use. Leave it to
readers to discover on their own what kind of storm it is, and save that space
for another independent image, to strengthen juxtaposition. Perhaps
"shattered" is not the best word for limbs -- I can't be sure since I
wasn't there with the author, but I wonder if the
limbs have merely broken off and fallen, instead of being shattered. Rather than
saying "crystalized trees," I would use simple, direct language to
show what was observed. If it is frozen rain, or ice, say so. I remember the
bitter wind and the scary creaking and cracking of limbs. With the space left
after tightening the verse, maybe a "sound" image could be introduced.
Richard, thank you for the winter images--and the goose bumps. fg
#14. (chibi)
flocks of waterfowl
over the catfish farm ponds ~
flat delta morning
This poem is evocative through several senses for me. There are sounds of
waterfowl; using my imagination and thinking of a particular kind of water bird,
I hear herons' voices and the rush of their wings. I breathe the mist that hangs
over shore and water, rich with smells -- fish, bird droppings, vegetation. My
skin feels damp and cool, but already the sun is burning away whatever morning
chill there is. And just the word "catfish" conjures up a mental
vision of the fish, fresh out of the water--and the way they look and smell on a
platter, fried crispy and still too hot to pick up with my fingers.
As rich with imagery as this haiku is, I believe it can be made even more
effective through tight focus, more specific imagery, and the shedding of excess
words. I would narrow the focus to one kind of waterfowl, and name them--give
readers something specific to see and hear. Geese? Ducks? Herons? Cranes? If you
wish to give it a specific season, you could choose an appropriate waterfowl. A
verb might add strength---you could have the fowl doing something, instead of
just being over the ponds; or an aural or olfactory image could be added. Much
of the world's catfish is produced by catfish farms in the Delta; I think that
"farm" could be left out, since if readers know that these are
"catfish ponds," they're likely to understand that they are catfish
farms. Or "ponds" could be removed instead, as "catfish
farm" implies ponds. "Flat" seems unnecessary here. Deltas are by
nature
flat, and the Mississippi Delta is by definition a flat, alluvial plain. Readers
will probably infer "flat" without being told, so perhaps the word
"flat" could be left out as well. My thanks to chibi for reminding me
of how much I love the sounds of waterfowl, ponds in general--and the taste of
fried catfish. fg
#15. (Dove)
the aspen's crooked trunk
almost sitting on the ground-
one gold leaf floats down
I am envisioning the tree's trunk bent or curved or crooked very deeply, and
somehow it has grown so that a side of the trunk, perhaps where it is bowed, is
very close to the ground. I see the tree still pretty full of leaves that have
turned and are starting to fall. This is a fairly old tree, to have grown into
that unlikely shape, and it gives me a sense of endurance and survival.
Something caused it to be bowed like that, and yet here it is, still doing its
part in the ritual of changing seasons, year after year. A strong tree,
different but very beautiful in its own way. While writing these comments, I
have made the discovery that in one sense this tree could symbolize humanity. I
won't explain, but will leave it to readers to come to their own understanding
or interpretation.
I believe this haiku could be made more accessible to readers if it is tightened
some. "One gold leaf floats down" is a bit long--simply
"falls" would probably do as well, since falling leaves are usually
thought of as having that floaty quality. There might be a sharper way to
illustrate the tree's trunk; I'm not sure that "sitting" is the best
word for this. Perhaps try different line arrangements and relocation of
modifiers. Is the tree itself gold, with its autumn leaves---a golden aspen?
Just some ideas to experiment with. Dove, thank you for giving me a look at
humanity from a different angle, and for this lovely image. fg
#27. (Carmen
Sterba)
a puppy gnaws
cucumbers on the vine
call for dinner
This delightful haiku is refreshing with its pure, simple imagery---no frills,
no explanations--just a clear depiction of what is happening, leaving it open
for readers to draw on their memories and experience to understand and relate to
the scene. A puppy--playful, into everything, following close on human heels
wherever it is allowed to go. Pouncing here and there, rolling in those weeds,
pulling at that string, and tasting everything in its path. A puppy will gnaw on
just about
anything, at least once. How strange, and yet not strange at all, to see this
one gnawing cucumbers right in the garden. This is a scene that makes me
homesick for a place that's not even there any more, except in my memory. A red
sun is setting, and I'm weeding the vegetables, picking a few choice ones while
I'm at it, while the hound puppy that considers every object and every other
creature its personal playmate frolics nearby. I pluck a heavy tomato, redder
than the sun, bringing it to my nose for a good whiff of that warm, ripe smell.
Grandma, still folding her apron, steps onto the back porch and calls out,
"Supper's ready...come in and wash up..." (Where I grew up, the noon
meal is dinner, and the evening meal is supper.)
It might sharpen this poem to have only one cucumber, bringing the puppy's
action of the moment more into focus, as he takes time out to flop down and
worry a cucumber with his little sharp teeth. I think I would say, "the
puppy gnaws a cucumber/on the vine." Perhaps put "call for
dinner" in the first line. Then my other idea: use another image in place
of "call for dinner," as the dinner call and the puppy gnawing a
vegetable might be a little too pat thrown together in such a briefpoem--even if
that's how it happened. Another independent image juxtaposed with the puppy's
action could be a strong mood setter, drawing readers further into the
"moment," and evoke more emotion. Just some food for thought :).
Carmen, thank you for the delicious nostalgia. fg
#28.[semi (Terrie Relf)]
first rain
mother and daughter
toss rocks in a puddle
The more I read this New Year's haiku, the more I am drawn to it. It is very
meaningful to me because of my close relationship with my grown daughter (and
only child). When she was small, we did things like this, together. One of our
favorite things was flying kites in the large field back of our house.
The poem contains underlying symbolism. I see the rocks tossed into a puddle as
representing the mother and daughter's lives. From the time we are conceived,
our very existence begins to affect other people, and one day some of us, like
our mothers, may bring other lives into the world. Strong woman can and do make
ripples that are felt around the world. Even if they never leave their home town
or small village, they may change or save the lives of others, and produce
children who will make big ripples. Have you ever thought about how amazing is
the line of a large, extended family, especially when you see a collective
family picture? One woman surrounded by all the people who are her descendents:
her children, (my own father had 12 brothers and sisters, my mother had seven
siblings); her children's children, and their children, and perhaps even their
children. So many people in one photo, people who are or will become doctors,
lawyers, farmers, writers, teachers, CEOs, craftsmen, artists, musicians . . .
and the women who bore them. Mary McLeod Bethune said, "The true worth of a
race must be measured by the character of its womanhood." Mother and
daughter toss rocks in a puddle, or a lake, or an ocean---who knows how far the
overlapping circles will spread? Thank you, Terrie, for "first rain";
it is a woman's poem, and it is a poem for anyone who does not take womanhood
for granted.
#30. (Steve)
mountain mist:
yesterday's snow
sinking deeper
This is another one that makes me reach for a warm afghan. The imagery evokes
feelings of cold and damp, I'm envisioning a lot of gray and white. I'm
imagining sinking ankle-deep into the snow. There is a sense of quiet too, only
the occasional sounds of birds high in the trees. Ah, I just heard something
else--the sound of an axe splitting firewood. Thinking about that makes me
realize how much I miss having a fireplace, the scent of steaming pine, the
sudden hiss of sparks, and the soft plop of an ashy log as it crumbles between
the firedogs.
I believe this poem could gain resonance through sharper focus, a greater
disparity between juxtaposed images, and some clarifying tweaks. Mist and snow
have similar qualities, as both are water forms, both imply cold as opposed to
warmth, and each has a "soft" quality. In my opinion, when both appear
in a haiku, the result is that each dulls the effectiveness of the other, rather
than heightening it. If snow is the most important image here, then I would
replace the mist with a different image. The other thing I have a problem with
is "deeper." I
think there are much better ways to describe or show something in a haiku than
using comparative adverbs and adjectives---especially when the comparison is
elliptical. In other words, how is the snow being compared, what is it being
compared to? And more to the point, is it important that it is deeper than
whatever or whenever it is being compared to?
I feel so strongly about the often misplaced use of comparatives in haiku that I
will say it again: More often than not, there are much better methods for
illustrating something in a haiku than using a comparative modifier. There may
be some exceptions, but I believe that the use of comparatives is overrated and
overdone. If my image is vivid and tightly focused to start with, then I won't
be tempted to use a comparative to help readers understand my observation. If
something specific is sinking into the snow, or is becoming covered by it, then
I
would show that. Just reading that an unnamed something sinks deeper doesn't
really "show" me anything; on the other hand, reading that snow has
buried the water pump helps me mentally envision the snow's depth. Thank you,
Steve, for evoking good memories of my time in snow country. fg
#34. (Victor P. Gendrano)
late fall afternoon
he lingers in the park
WWII veteran
In this haiku, I find poignancy, subtle analogies, and a sense of respect for a
person whose presence has special meaning for the author. The symbolism reaches
deep to evoke an awareness of the inevitability of changing seasons and life
cycles. To me, this veteran is like a tall shade tree. He's survived season
after season, good times and bad, and even a war. Perhaps there is a memorial
statue in the park, and he's here paying his respects to it, and thus to the
thousands of other people who served their country. He might linger to be with
them in spirit a little longer, to sit lost in memories of a war that changed
the world, remembering his part in it. The author wisely doesn't let his own
presence intrude in the poem, but instead simply shows us what he observed,
leaving us to draw our own conclusions. The verb "lingers" is rich
with symbolic implication, and I believe the resonance of the poem hangs on this
verb, in juxtaposition with "late fall afternoon."
I believe the haiku can be strengthened even further with a couple of small
changes. I would get rid of "he," putting the last two lines in
natural order with the veteran as subject, and also spell out "World War
II": "a World War II veteran/lingers in the park." It might be
interesting to focus even tighter on where the veteran is lingering. Beside the
park's cannon? At the memorial wall? Near a certain statue? I'm not sure---just
something to try if you like the idea. Victor, thank you for this poem, which I
feel honors all our war veterans. fg
#36. Angèle
Lux
In the icicle
her little face blurred
with tears
This is an intriguing image, depicting a child's strong emotion. Using some
imagination, I can envision a little girl who, suffering a disappointment, is
keeping to herself and nursing her hurt. The source of the tears could be
anything from a broken toy to misbehavior that resulted in her having to sit
alone for awhile and contemplate an apology, to heartbreaking grief over a
serious loss. I see her staring into an icicle, the large, shiny, silver kind
that is hung on Christmas trees. (For the life of me, I can't imagine seeing
such a clear reflection in a real icicle.) She gazes at the icicle and lets the
tears fall.
There are a few problems with this poem that are too distracting to overlook.
First, it is a one-part, single-image verse, within one topic, and lacks strong
juxtaposition. "Her little face blurred with tears in the icicle"
lacks too many essential elements of haiku. So does this line: "In the
icicle her little face blurred with tears."
And therefore, these lines as well:
In the icicle
her little face blurred
with tears
The only thing here is a teary face reflected in a shiny icicle, a face that is
apparently seen as a blur. All "In the icicle" does is tell where the
face is being observed; there is no real juxtaposition. I don't believe there is
enough here to create resonance. It is a moving image, but to me it doesn't work
as a haiku. So, point #1: It is a one-part verse, lacking juxtaposition, and is
not strong enough to
create meaningful resonance.
Next, I'm having a problem with the face being reflected in an icicle; as
mentioned earlier, I can't "see" this image with a real icicle, though
I'm not saying it's impossible. Just that *I* can't see it--and other readers
might have the same problem. Since the face is perceived by the author as
blurred with tears, then I have to assume that the author's eyes are the ones
seeing things blurrily because of the tears. So, I next assume that this little
girl is the author as a child, and that it is a haiku written from memory; which
is fine as far as that goes, except that having to figure all this out is too
complicated for haiku. If what the author means is that the face is
tear-streaked instead of blurry, and its owner is being observed BY the author,
then clearer language should be used to show that. Point #2: the wording is
somewhat confusing.
Next, in my opinion, this depiction is too sentimental for Western haiku.
Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to refer to children's little faces, tiny
hands and feet, and so on, without sounding sentimental. Because of this, I feel
that adjectives that describe the smallness of children's body parts should be
avoided in general. There are usually better ways to subtly illustrate a child's
size without
referring to it directly. Also, rather than use "small" or
"little" to describe the face or any other part of the body, in order
to let readers know that that the subject is a child, I think it would be better
to just say the child, the baby, the little girl, the small boy, the toddler,
and so on. Point #3: use simple, clear, direct language to show what you
observed. Thank you, Angèle, for this poignant, interesting image. Not only
does the poem remind us of the tender feelings of children and their
vulnerability, it also encourages readers to re-examine our own personal
guidelines for writing haiku. fg
