haiku retrospective clxiii

alone on the carpet
wooden people spill
from the train crash

31 July 2001


night swim --
a corona around
the streetlight

10 August 2001


traffic jam
cirrus clouds pass
overhead

16 August 2001

haiku retrospective clxii

sunday morning --
the mirror reveals
every flaw

29 July 2001


thinning fog --
the dragon princess growls
good morning

31 July 2001


broke-down paver --
the tarred road felt wraps
around the car's axle

31 July 2001

haiku retrospective clxi

opening scene --
a large gentleman sits
on my popcorn

25 July 2001


twilight
the basketball bounces all the way down
to the creek

25 July 2001


summer twilight --
the clock ticks twice
for each cricket chirp

28 July 2001

haiku retrospective clx

A haiku master complained about the ho-humness of this haiku:

old gym shoes --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

I heard the bounce echo in my son's freshly-inflated Gertie ball and suddenly I had 2/3 of a haiku (she's working with 2/3 of a haiku, folks), so I started casting about for a first line. I immediately thought of:

distant thunder --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

This seemed overdone in a metaphorical sense (the echo of the bounce
might sound like distant thunder, but the comparison would make a
tawdry haiku, IMO).

Next up was sultry evening. I first typed it like this:

sultry evening --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

This is the story of my haiku life. I really would appreciate
some hints on finding good opening images.

lighted fishtank --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

last dance --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

weaving drunks --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

empty bathtub --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

sidewalk chalk --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

mosquitoes whine --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

loaded derringer --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

symphony program --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

But I like the gym shoes. They were right there against the Gertie ball: Dad's old shoes and his sons' new ball. I didn't deliberately make a connection to basketball although it's likely that I was doing so subconsciously.

Here's another question: How much separation does there need to be to juxtapose two images? Can you sometimes have related images or is it important that the juxtaposed things always be a mismatched set?

haiku retrospective clix

yesterday
tag was such an easy
game to play

19 July 2001


batter up --
swallows chase flies
over the outfield

23 July 2001


evening coolness --
a pool of juice
on the cutting board

24 July 2001

haiku retrospective clviii

drooping sunflower ~
so many dreams left
at summer's end

18 July 2001


cold summer day --
the deer's teeth prune
the bean vines

18 July 2001


old gym shoes --
the echo of the bounce
inside the ball

18 July 2001

haiku retrospective clvii

beach sand --
an ant reverses
direction

14 July 2001


summer break --
the old woman stretches
her bare toes

16 July 2001


morning fog --
the spout of the teapot
drips

17 July 2001

haiku retrospective clvi

summer mantra:
i am not food
for insects

14 July 2001


wide ripples --
the tree's reflection
rises and falls

14 July 2001


swallows feeding --
the trees down river
converge

14 July 2001

haiku retrospective clv

summer fog --
layers of color
in the sand

14 July 2001


time ~
the paper shredder of
life

14 July 2001


summer river --
a rock skips through the reflections
of the trees

14 July 2001

haiku retrospective cliv

peaceful river --
a boy cannonballs
from the cliff

12 July 2001


slow river waves --
a single willow leaf spins
downwards

12 July 2001


river rapids --
a leaf detours
around a rock

12 July 2001

haiku retrospective cliii

first stars
the green kingfisher cups
his wings

Okay, another question: If you always use weather/atmospheric
phenomenon as a first line, how do you keep the first line from
becoming a throw-away? How do you keep it fresh and immediate?
Or doesn't it matter? Is "distant thunder" such a good opener
that you can pair it with anything and have it fit? Is it good
to collect a bunch of undemanding opening lines so you'll have
something to go with all of the great endings you come up with?
Are the opening lines like old shoes that always fit when you
need to run out to the garden and look at the spiders?

bowling ball --
the puzzled haijin
chews her hair

distant thunder --
the puzzled haijin
chews her hair

grandmotherly kindness --
the senior haijin
swings his stick

distant laughter --
if you're not having fun
you're not doing it right

12 July 2001

haiku retrospective clii

dank water --
a craggy oak branch
against the sky

12 July 2001


slow river --
a wave of cirrus clouds breaks
across the sky

12 July 2001


poetic mood --
a swarm of sand fleas bites
my leg

12 July 2001

haiku retrospective cli

depth charge --
the diving boys climb
a little higher

12 July 2001


uneven footing --
a rock in the hand
that holds his shorts up

12 July 2001


beach towels packed --
the duck family emerges
from the thicket

12 July 2001

haiku retrospective cl

Colour me impressed.

I thought this haiku retrospective might take a couple of months, but it's been 5 months and I've still only gotten to the middle of 2001.

I've written a lot of haiku.

swaying spiderweb --
layers of sunlight filter
through the trees

11 July 2001


long-legged wader --
the rock-throwing boy
holds his fire

11 July 2001


termite-eaten snag --
the green kingfisher cups
his wings

11 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxlix

wading children --
the ripples from their footsteps
cross

10 July 2001


birdsong --
a jet roars across
the blue sky

10 July 2001


rushing river --
the sedges' leaves dip
into the water

10 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxlviii

willow island --
the duck's neck extends
as she swims

9 July 2001


two ducklings --
reflections from the water
ripple on the trees

10 July 2001


gnarled roots --
a blackberry stretches
across the path

10 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxlvii

heat spell --
a swallowtail butterfly
amongst the alders

9 July 2001


full summer --
yellow leaves among the green
in the laurel

9 July 2001


slick rock --
dumping the water out
of his river shoes

9 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxlvi

river silt --
a fingerling tries to leap
up the falls

8 July 2001


backlit tree --
the sine wave scamper
of a squirrel

8 July 2001


finished compost --
the vegetable garden feasts
on chocolate cake

9 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxlv

time ~
the paper shredder of
life

7 July 2001


slug trail --
the truck dumps asphalt
in the paver

8 July 2001


cloud trails --
sun glints off the tail
of an airplane

8 July 2001

haiku retrospective cxliv

afternoon nap
the hippopotamus opens
its nostrils

25 June 2001


summer dusk the trees glow green against the clouds

27 June 2001


fourth of july ~
a mosquito waves its striped leg

4 July 2001