Thanks, Lee. If I figure out what I'm supposed to be doing, maybe I can do more! In order, these were my three drafts:


The bridge, ice-slick,
the canyon howling below--
how to go on?

in which I was mostly trying to get the feel of 2-3-2. Roy and Stephen noted that it was wordy.


The icy bridge,
the fog deepening--
How to go on?

Comments at this point helped me see that "How to go on?" contains too much interpretation, so now I'm trying to make it all images.

Icy walking bridge.
Below, the highway screams.
Even air is frozen.

Stuart (thanks for commenting, Stuart) notes that this is static, as all the versions are. What I learn at this point is that the observation I'm trying to build on may not contain a sufficient "leap" for a real haiku. I'm still looking for a true two-image idea.

Thanks again for helping us out here.

Yesterday, a haiku popped in my head when I first woke up, and then another one just before I fell asleep - this one -

black wing
white moon
first frost


Thanks, Lee. Yes, leaping is leaping! The moon in poems is always a risk, so I felt my full moon leap had to be especially huge. I don't know if the leap is as big in this new one, but so far the words are sticking and won't budge. That's what happened with the full moon one. I tried all day to budge it - wouldn't budge.

Writing ghazals helped me learn how to write with feeling - Michael Cantor calls it "shmaltz" and that advice is perfect. And the repeating word or phrase at the end of each couplet helped me learn how to leap. You have to leap when you're repeating the same word/phrase 6 to 10 times in one poem, if you don't want to bore everyone.

~~~
Here's another one I just wrote:

cherry tomatoes
teardrops of
a lonely old fool

~~~~
Lee, this post has three now, for your comments, if you get a chance, please.

muse
my vase is broken
without you




[This message has been edited by Mary Meriam (edited October 18, 2008).]

Of course not, but you have made it look easy a few times:


going out of my way
to crunch them as I walk;
first leaves of Autumn.



trying the old pump a mouse pours out



a spot of sunlight—
on a blade of grass the dragonfly
changes its grip



...a few of my all-time favorites. This has been great, Lee, thank you for spending time here. I don't know how long you are staying, but I will be leaving this afternoon to go teach poetry to middle school music students in the redwoods and I won't be back until Sunday night. So I wanted to say thanks in case you are gone by then.

Meanwhile, one more question, if it isn't inappropriate to ask it in this thread. We just heard this week that Bill Higginson died. I wonder if and how well you knew him, and what you could say about his contribution to the haiku universe. I know for me, The Haiku Handbook is an essential reference and one of my most used and beloved books.

Thanks again Lee.

David R.

Berthed in Key West Bight--
a cold front brooming the bay
sweeps boats to the rocks.

Lee, Steve, everyone. What joy to see this thread at four pages and growing! I am not seeking compression for my verse, rather expansion. But I offer this traditional 575 for Lee because he knows the Bight better than I do. Had I had access to a Zodiac that day I could have saved a Morgan 38 and taken title under the Law of Salvage. The insurance company would have paid the owner, and I'd have had the yacht. Woulda, shoulda, couldn't.

Thanks very much, Lee, for your info about openendedness.

One more from me. This should be the last one for now. Is this any better in terms of leaving something for the reader?

A small yellow blotch
in a meadow of snowmelt:
a dandelion.

Haunting, Lee. I feel like your haiku is talking to my haiku. Yours captures the forlorn farmers, already "paved over" by encroaching suburbs. The farmers tried to face it down, but lost. Now they're in a nursing home or their graves. No more sitting outside on firefly nights, after long days in the field and kitchen. Very sad.

Here's one by Billy Collins:

[This message has been edited by Mary Meriam (edited October 17, 2008).]

Originally posted by Mary Meriam:

Here's one by Billy Collins:

*

It's not much of a haiku . . . but it's a valid observation that we can all take heart in. (It goes for poetry in general, too, I think.)

Hi Seree,

Lee has some interesting things to say about "openendedness" in his reply above to Martin. Specifically, Obviously the question of whether there's "something left for the reader to ponder . . . that is worth sharing" is going to be subjective to some extent, and as writers of course we always hope there will be. But looking at a specific text, it's sometimes possible to identify particular aspects of it that (arguably) close down interpretive possibilities, and thus lead to a less "openended," less inviting poem. I can't speak for what Lee is seeing, but since you ask me too, I'll try an "objective" application of the principle, and see what I can in fact DO.

Take, for example, your Rembrandt poem:

“The Jewish Bride” hosts
immaculate despite centuries
dead flies at her hem

I didn't know the name of the painting (I'm dreadfully ignorant of art), and so without your explanation above, I wouldn't have got this at all. Anyway, once that's cleared up, here's how I read the poem:

“The Jewish Bride,” immaculate despite (the passage of) centuries, hosts dead flies at her hem.

In other words (if I understand correctly), "hosts" is a verb here, and you are describing a scene in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam: Rembrandt's "Jewish Bride" is still glowing and beautiful despite its (her) great age, but dead flies have gathered on the floor, or on the frame, below--the painted figure "hosts" the dead flies "at her hem." Frankly that's a fair bit to figure out (or it was for muddledly duddledy me!) and in that sense you certainly do leave some connections for the reader to "ponder." But--to use another of Lee's metaphors--do those connections "spark" across the gap, or are they too close (closed circuit, no spark) or too far (isolated terminals, no spark) to do so?

I think you have (paradoxically) both problems, though the "too far" issue is mostly my unfamiliarity with the painting. If I knew that you were referring to an Old Master--even without knowing the painting--I could bring the scene into focus much more easily, so that's my first recommendation: "Rembrandt's 'Jewish Bride.'" The more serious problem, however, is that your images are also "too close." To quote Lee again (from Haiku: Formal Elements), In other words, it's a question of haiku's preference for "cutting" and juxtaposition.

I think that the two images in question here-- "The Jewish Bride" and the flies--make for a striking and potentially quite powerful juxtaposition, so that's not a problem. But two other things stand out. First, by adding the verb "hosts" here, you eliminate the cut--in effect, you unite the two elements in a single sequence, instead of juxtaposing them:

“The Jewish Bride” hosts . . . dead flies at her hem

The intervening stuff about "immaculate despite centuries" does make for a kind of disjunction (it divides verb and object, without quite "cutting" them), but then it introduces a different problem. As Lee says, juxtaposition works best when images are placed "side by side without interpretation." And with that, we really get to the nuts and bolts of "openendedness." What is the meaning of the juxtaposition of painting and dead flies here? It could be any number of things, but crucially, you've supplied us with the start of an "answer" by adding in the interpretive, "telly" stuff about "immaculate despite centuries." In other words we do get the connection--a kind of ironic commentary on art (immortality) and nature (death), or however you want to phrase it. But the connection is too close. There's room for different interpretations--no text is ever completely "closed"--but crucially you have narrowed the range of possibilities for the reader, and therefore made the poem less "openended."

Does that make sense?

Anyway, that's a lot of explanation, but perhaps an example will help. You could rewrite your piece in any number of ways; this is just my attempt at a more openended, haiku-like version. So, assuming the flies are on the frame, not the floor . . .

Rembrandt's "Jewish Bride"
dead in a gilt-framed corner
two winter flies

(I say "winter flies" because they're the sort that wind up dying in our window sills etc. And yes, "winter fly" (fuyu no hae) is in fact a traditional season word in haiku.)

A last point: some readers might find a pun in "gilt" (guilt) here, and that too might be seen as a distracting, "interpretive" element. It may be safer to be plain:

Rembrandt's "Jewish Bride"
dead in a corner of the frame
two winter flies

But I do like that glint of dull gold beside the little black bodies. As for "two" . . . completely arbitrary.

Anyway, this is just one way you might go. The possibilities are, ahem, openended. The key to writing a really striking haiku is to get just the right combination so that the images communicate and "spark" . . . then getting yourself out of the reader's way so he or she can watch, and interpret, the magic for him or herself.

Long answer. I hope it's useful.

Steve C.

Edit: Added link.



[This message has been edited by Stephen Collington (edited October 17, 2008).]

Lee, thank you for your comments about sound. I hope I'm learning and that you will take a look at a few more for me.


Christmas morning feed
icicles in the horses tails
little bells jingling

sudden wind gust
prairie dust rises
to meet the rain

satellite dish
a single raven is perched
foil in its beak

Donna,

Being haiku novices we are obviously under the gun. Lee said to me:

Most effective haiku are made up of two parts that interact imaginatively. It is more difficult to get the same kind of interaction with three parts--a three part haiku often feels disjointed and is harder for the reader to "put together."

This is the pitfall that I see here:

Christmas morning feed
icicles in the horses tails
little bells jingling

But I've been wrong before.

Although I suppose L2 & L3 could be considered linked.

[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited October 17, 2008).]