haiku retrospective cdxxviii

half-light
the cat turns and washes
one paw

19 September 2011


restless night
turning from one shoulder
to the other

25 September 2011


hollow oak:
the echo of
your final words

30 September 2011

haiku retrospective cdxvii

A friend posted something about the bygone days of haiku email lists, the days when there were hundreds of posts a day and long long haiku chains with dozens of authors contributing. He did not wax eloquent about the harsh criticism that many haiku received, but that was part of the picture as well. And, although the criticism was not as much fun as the play, it did serve to refine our haiku.

Anyway, this calls to mind Tim Russell's haiku exercise, one that many of us found useful.

In the old days on the shiki list, we were trying to write in the style of shiki. So haiku were to be two concrete images, with a break and a seasonal reference. There was much discussion of kireji (which I am translating rather loosely as “break”) and kigo (seasonal reference). Haiku were to be drawn from one moment in time, and sketched from life like a watercolour painting (shasei).

Tim had an exercise, one that could be useful to keep our minds limber for when a haiku moment seized us by the throats. It's a very simple exercise, one that yields 10 shasei a day.

First, pick the month or season and some aspect of it to be the short part of the days' exercise:

september grasses
spring growth
dead trees
hunter's moon
summer river

Next, take a notebook and a pencil and go for a stroll or sit on a bench somewhere.

Notice something. Write it down. Turn your head in a different direction or stroll a little further. Notice something else and write it down.

Continue until you have 10 longer parts of the haiku:

a boy picking scabs on the steps
a calico cat crouched on the car's hood
the spent blossoms of the lily-of-the-nile
a cacophony of birdsong
a heavy tread coming up the steps
oak moths mating in the bathroom
a stack of plates by the dishwasher
dust on the stack of summer reading
i try to take a sip from an empty teacup
wild cucumber tangled in the redwood

Now combine them:

september grasses
a boy picking scabs
on the steps

september grasses
a calico cat crouched
on the car's hood

september grasses
the spent blossoms
of the lily-of-the-nile

september grasses
a cacophony
of birdsong

september grasses
a heavy tread coming
up the steps

september grasses
oak moths mating
in the bathroom

september grasses
a stack of plates
by the dishwasher

september grasses
dust on the stack
of summer reading

september grasses
i try to take a sip
from an empty teacup

september grasses
wild cucumber tangled
in the redwood

In Tim's exercise, you now put these things away.

Do 10 more tomorrow.

14 September 2011

haiku retrospective cdxxvi

turning leaves
the silence so deep it fills
with memories

13 September 2011


summer love
a faded red t-shirt rots
in the gutter

13 September 2011


september grasses
the rumble of a distant
trash cart

14 September 2011

haiku retrospective cdxxv

neglected garden
the sweet peas
stage a riot

9 August 2011


late-summer laze
the fading sweet peas nod
in the breeze

18 August 2011


hints of autumn
a piece of my soul rushes
out the door

6 September 2011

haiku retrospective cdxxiv

farmer's market
checking out the guy
checking me out

21 May 2011


rolling enchiladas --
i want to wrap his smile
around me

14 June 2011


lingering silence --
i burrow into the softness
of his smile

14 June 2011

haiku retrospective cdxxiii

pretending
to be grown up...
the lines around my eyes

14 April 2011


counting blessings
he includes the beautiful
dandelions

23 April 2011


no zest
empty lemon husks
on the cutting board

28 April 2011

haiku retrospective cdxxii

first farm share
i dance to “back together”
with broccoli rabe

5 April 2011


spring squall
dividing radicchio
from the farm share

7 April 2011


cold snap --
the dandelion patch open
for business

9 April 2011