|
Tim, you said audience participation, so I'll start it off with these three "maybe haikus" that have been buzzing in my head today, and invite others to post theirs.
When Lee gets a chance perhaps he'll tell us if they fit the mold, and if not what they would need to be called haikus or senryus. By the way, are they supposed to have names? Rain on dandelions; another lazy Sunday-- Cut the grass next week. Fog forms on cold glass; the smell of morning coffee fills my small red car. Five pounds are gone. You, last praline in the box, reward my long fast. Carol |
Those are good, Carol. And by all means let's have everyone think seriously about what Lee is telling us and pitch in.
A snowflake in May, a sailboat hauled from storage is offered for sale. |
April
April’s sound echoes Tap tap tap across still ponds First haiku of Spring April mockingbird Twittering on the rooftop Reminds her of me New Godzilla foe Sci-fi cult classic: April Is the Cruelest Moth Sonnets turn and twist Villanelles repeat themselves Haiku jumps – kerplop! |
Here's an up-dated version of the very first 5-7-5 poem I ever wrote--wherein I attempted to show how it "felt" to write a haiku:
Westwind Torments Here's the second one (up-dated version), wherein I was discovering how difficult it was to think without meter intruding: Hunter, Out-of-Season =========================================== Uh-oh! In his message to Carol (below), David Anthony said that "You never name them." Don't know if that's a "rule" or not; but . . . here's the latest updates--without titles: One wind-stripped oak groans [This message has been edited by Patricia A. Marsh (edited May 02, 2004).] |
Here's a version of one I once posted at the Deep End. My question: Does the attempt at a combination of forms (and the resulting syntactical development, esp., in this particular example) stray too far from the Haiku tradition to be considered "haiku"—even that word as an adjective, if not as the form?
Butterfly Haiku Rondeau Tend toward joy although butterflies in spring bestow no flutter: vague dreams. Other seasons' memes lost in chrysalis are flow— hard heart but no show. Hot wet and cold snow— old men and their older themes tend toward joy. Grave waters shall go to fill the tomb, and we know— whole love like that seems like loss; but Loss! deems the butterfly born, and so tend toward joy. |
Carol,
I think you nailed it with your first two: seasonal references, but you mustn't specify the months or the seasons (as you know, Michael). Also there's a good haiku feel about these. Your third's a charming senryu, I believe. Others follow with varying degrees of success. You never name them. Best wishes, David |
Hey there, Curtis!
Would you believe that, in 2002--intending to give your newfangled form a try--I made a printout of your haiku rondeau, slipped it between the pages of my copy of Turco's The Book of Forms, but . . . http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/frown.gif In any case, I like the changes you made in Lines 2 & 3 of S-4. http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif [This message has been edited by Patricia A. Marsh (edited May 01, 2004).] |
Wildly mixing cultures, I pared one from the bone pile according to the 2/3/2 scheme. It may not be haiku, but it’s terza rima (down from 4/3/4 and, I hope, an improvement on the original):
Mezzogiorno In Sicily the summer’s old despair, for I can see the trees grown there endure a sun that’s bled through dusty air. My forebears fled this midday poverty with roots half dead. Transplants across the sea revived their family tree. ------------------ Ralph [This message has been edited by RCL (edited May 02, 2004).] |
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
from the point of view of a frog ... Youth, two lilly pads drift within my leaping range. ... One of them still drifts. |
Hobie Haiku
A snowclad roof hides a hundred boats, going nowhere in a flurry. Bird on the boatlift, take wing. Fly further north and leave no droppings here. Cats paws riffle the lake on race day. Turtles outswim my idle cat. Flags on the dock snap in the last warm wind. I sail onto the trailer. --Alan Sullivan This is the first new verse I've written in more than two years. And it took thirty minutes. Go figure. I'll post it at The Deep End also. Maybe I can draw some more regulars to the haiku discussion. P.S. I love Carol's offerings above. Way to go. |
408
Loud blooming flowers firing volleys in the air running down our street Bobby [This message has been edited by Robert E. Jordan (edited May 02, 2004).] |
would this "qualify" as a Haiku?
Yesterday, a brace of rabbits meadow-stung — my heart was one. Today, ears twitch across a field of stubble; I am still here. testing, testing... (robt) |
My, what a deluge of responses! I will try to respond to each. . . but how about two to start?
Carol, while I am not real big on taxonomy, I would like to respond to your "are they or aren't they?" question. I would consider the first two as haiku ("mowing" and "fogged up windshield" being seasonal phenomena). The third I would consider senryu. While end rhyme is often too "heavy" for haiku, it can be effective in senryu, and is something you might consider for the last poem, especially as you have introduced rhyme already. So as a too big generalization, end rhyme, if it is to be uses, is more in keeping with the mood of senryu, while slant rhyme or internal rhyme more effective in haiku. If I might express an opinion about the first two poems? Both have virtues, but I find the second better as a haiku. The first "tells it all." While it invites the reader to join in the poet's lazy feeling, it leaves nothing beyond for the reader to discover. The second, however, is effectively ambiguous and allows the reader to actively participate in creating the mood of the poem. I am glad you asked about "names," which I will interpret to be a question about titles. Traditionally, both in Japanese and English, haiku do not have titles. Early translators of Japanese haiku often gave them titles (and rhymed the first and third lines) to make them look like "poems" to Western readers. When I get a submission to our journal with titles, I can usually assume the poet has read Harold Henderson's "Introduction to Haiku" (a 1958 reissue of a 1934 book)or Kenneth Yasuda's "A Pepper Pod" (a 1946 or 1947 issue). As you can see by the dates, chances are they they are in many ways outdated. Tim, What can I say . . . nice work. Two images presented without comment or embellishment, allowing the reader to participate as co-creator of a delightful moment. Lee |
I would like to offer one more comment on Tim's haiku. I find the punctuation a little awkward. The comma suggests that the snowflake is the first element in a list, but, as there is no comma at the end of the second line, we find it is not so. I would suggest either a semi-colon (heavier) or elipsis (lighter). Also, one of the conventions of western poetry that has generally not been carried over to haiku is the use of a period at the end of a poem. Not to say you can't use it, but it is generally seen as an indication that the author is not very "haiku savvy." Just thought I would mention this.
Lee |
Michael's "kerplop" is one of my favorites, even if the seasonal allusion may be missing (notice I said "may," Michael: that's because your "kerplop" could very well refer to a seasonal reference only the Japanese would recognize).
Here's an attempt: Aeolian harp, wind-played song— collecting seedpods. Terese |
Michael, it is interesting to see you poems after reading your comments on the "haiku and tanka" thread. (I hope you will have a chance to take a look at my response to that.)
What I find most striking is the difference in tone between the first and last two. The first two have the "lightness" of classical haiku; in the last two, the imagery has been replaced by rhetoric, a sign of contemporary senryu or zappai. Interesting lot, all in all. Lee |
Carol, Wow! What a difference without the titles! I have to confess that I like the last the best. The first is OK, but generally, one finds that "cause and effect" haiku (i.e., wind---->button coat) are not the most resonant kind. I think the second version of the "hunter" haiku is more effective: the "shh!" brings the reader right into the poem. If I might make a suggestion, you might consider "Hunters approach and" for the first line. Several reasons:
1. "At" is an empty word here . . . almost like beginning a haiku with an article, which I generally try to avoid unless necessary. 2. While I generally avoid ending a line with "and", I think it helps create an effective sense of incompleteness here luring us (prey that we are!) into the second line. this also combines with the "and" in the next line effectively. Lee |
Hello, Lee. Being one of the not very savvy, I wasn't aware that the abandonment of punctuation was considered a virtue among current practitioners of this form in English. Obviously Rhina is among the savvy in this regard. I'm not persuaded at present that it's a good idea. What's the harm in following the forms of our language? It seems to me that the images and their relaionship are the essence of the tradition, and that insight into Zen Buddhism might be the most valuable resource for recreating the sensibility of the form in English.
Alan |
I've long been fascinated by Haiku and Tanka....tanka in particular, because it gives me more room to roam in. I'm pretty sure that other than the syllable count, these two offerings arent actually haiku, but they are among my own personal favorites.
Blue Ridge Listen to midnight at the edge of the eyrie two egg-teeth chipping Come carrion hour each gray-downed half-winged fledgling turns face to the east Observe the sunrise - how it blinds men and opens the eyes of eaglets ____ In-Utero benevolent garden one foreign seed draws first breath inhale - divide three spores are scattered six cells seek sanctuary exhale - multiply malignant conception each silent new spawn mutates inhale - exhale |
You have my permission to call me "Carol" if you like, Lee, because your "...Wow! What a difference without the titles!" made my day! http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/smile.gif
I like your suggestion for changing the first line of my second haiku to "Hunters approach and" . . . especially since I was considering changing that line to read "Hunter approaches". I like your suggested change much better! Thank you, Lee. As for that first "cause and effect" haiku of mine: You've told me something else I didn't know about haiku! So, thank you for that, too. All best, Patricia (aka "Carol"?) http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/wink.gif [This message has been edited by Patricia A. Marsh (edited May 02, 2004).] |
Just to lower the tone...
A Limerku So often at spring; cow bells ring, birds chirp, frogs burp, lambs play, children sing. |
dogwood petals snow
well-worn paths to playing fields seniors count last days * moonset, and morning —late again—rushes to catch the last train, workbound * heavy with the weight of rain, leaves uncup their drops new hats of newsprint * streetlights outshine Orion * coal lump falls, shirking its sweater of clotted red thread grey will hem it in |
Sory I haven't gotten back to this sooner, but here goes . . .
Curtis, I agree with your assessment . . . in your rondeau, "haiku" qualifies as an adjective but not a noun. Generally, effective haiku poems (as opposed to haiku stanzas in longer poems) rely on imagery, rather than statements for their magic. Also, they are normally able to stand alone, which most of these wouldn't be able to do. RCL, I agree that your "Messogiorno" are not haiku , but terza rima and nicely done. Alan, I think your "Hobie Haiku" are fun. Generally in haiku, shuch blatant punning is avoided, especially where the pun is in danger of becoming the point of the poem. I find the last works best as a haiku--it has a very nice feel. I will look forward to your next half hour's work! Robt, Probably not. In general, the best haiku present two images and allow the reader to interact intuitively with them. A more (rationalistic) western approach presents one image and adds a thought or comment on the image to complete the poem. "Show don't tell" is the haiku way. Lee |
Alan, it is not really an issue of abandoning. As you probably know, there is traditionally no punctuation in Japanese, so it would be more "traditional" not to use punctuation in haiku. Japanese has "words" that make up part of the "syllable" count that take the place of some of our uses of punctuation in the poems to divide the images or add weight to one part of the poem. (That is why if you want to use "traditional" form, you should also count each use of punctuation as a syllable!) Punctuation is generally used in haiku when it has something to add to the poem. Dashes, semicolons, and colons are used to separate the images of the poem, depending on the effect one is striving to attain. Periods are the most rarely used of all punction, and only when they have specific purpose, as in the following:
his side of it. her side of it. winter silence Notice that the punctuation becomes a part of the message of the poem, both by its presence and its absence. It is not an empty marker. All that said, go ahead and capitalize the first letter of your haiku and put a period at the end if you want. Once again, I am not suggesting that there is an absolute prohibition against it. Lee |
Yeah, Lee, I knew the pun was over the top, but once I'd thought of it, I couldn't get rid of it; the fit was just too perfect. And I also agree that the fourth is closest to the connected disconnection I found so fascinating in the Basho translations I first read forty years ago.
Alan |
Lo, I think one of the things that initially attracts people in the west to haiku is their perception that it is a blank slate--the spaciousness you refer to. And if engaging with it simply as a form allows one to write fine poetry there is no need to get caught up in controversies over taxonomy. Who need concern themself as to whether the wonderful poems you quoted are technically haiku or not? The important thing, it seems to me, is to accept the gift they offer.
Lee |
Quote:
Lo |
Lo, those are just terrific. The second of them strikes me as being particularly deeply informed by insights into both Taoism and Bhuddism, and I don't think I'm reading too much into it. But the first poem is even more masterful, encompassing as it does, such insight into men and angels--and eagles. I think they're just what I hope to see in five/seven/five stanzas, which might or might not be haiku! Ignorant of the principles that I am, I am just looking for compelling poems, and both of these rise to that very high level. Vis-avis the matter of punctuation:
Count a period as an extra syllable? Wind dead on my bow. |
Thanks, Lee, for confirming my suspicions. I didn't title it "Butterfly Rondeau Haiku" because my process when writing it favored some aspects of the rondeau over haiku, for the general structure, although I also wanted those breaks between image-idea/statement to play a haiku-ish role.
I have a few observations and questions on haiku in general, will post them over in the Haiku Form? thread, but will say here that I appreciate your contributions over the last few days; they've been quite instructive and valuable for my understanding of haiku. --- Patricia, I've always wanted to experiment more with the combined form, haven't yet taken that leap. I'm glad you like the revised lines--a few other areas might get revised before I set the poem aside forever... |
Oh, don't you dare to put it away forever, Curtis! I won't allow it, young man. I mean: your haiku-rondeau had me struggling for days--two years ago--trying to write one of my own and . . . and . . .[Hrmph!]
P.S. Would love to see any revisions and/or new work you do using this form, Curtis. [And . . . you can blame the preceding paragraph on the full moon.] http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/wink.gif |
I see nyctom has broken the seventeen syllable barrier. This gives me a chance to comment on what is all to familiar a problem with 17 syllable haiku in English: saying too much. In reference to your:
moonset, and morning —late again—rushes to catch the last train, workbound I find it an interesting haiku really excellent till we get to the last half of the third line. (Though admittedly theres seems to be some problem with the subject of "rushes.) Then the poem is spoiled slightly, from the perspective of haiku aesthetics, by saying too much with "workbound," which is implied clearly enough with the phrase "late enough." Much better as a haiku, in the opinion of this humble editor, as: moonset, and morning —late again—rushes to catch the last train BTW, your "orion" reminds me of a well-known, prize-winning minimalist haiku (I believe it is by Jerry Kilbride): mime lifing fog Lee |
My experience with haiku/tanka/senryu is very limited indeed, having only tried my hand at one or two. From my experience at other boards, the haiku seems to be one of those forms that people either love or hate - doesn't seem to be any middle ground.
Anyway, I'll throw my only two attempts into the pot - I really have no idea if these work or not since any previous comments have been somewhat ambiguous - I suspect though, that with the human element in them, they tend more to senryu rather than haiku? Dunno. Cricket chirps echo in green fields of memory; childhood starts anew. Peaks, valleys, a bed of opened flower petals; I leave the lights on. Many thanks to Lee for his time and thanks also for this great thread - I too, have learned much from it. Regards, HB |
Thanks for the kind words, Curtis. I have been trying to share some of what makes haiku special to me without sounding too autocratic. I hope some of my love of haiku will rub off on some of you folks.
Lee |
P.S. If you have questions or comments, either thread will do.
Lee |
In reply to HB's question (and thanks much for the kind words), I think they are both clearly haiku. It is a common misunderstanding that haiku are "about" nature and senryu are "about" people. In fact, neither can avoid being about the human race. The difference is in the imagery and treatment. The most important are some aesthetic principles that have pervaded haiku for several centuries. (More on these below.) Senryu is dominated by wit, wordplay, irony, and a certain cruel glee in the shortcomings of others.
The lazy way for me to comment on haiku asethetics is to quote a bit on it from my book, Haiku: A Poet's Guide. (Not here to sell books--all the money goes to Modern Haiku anyway.) The poems quoted will show what haiku at its bes is not as well as what it is. Lee Here goes (from the section "From Bashô to Barthes"): Is there some preferred aesthetic for haiku, or is haiku pliable enough to serve as a vehicle for any cultural value system? Before the time of Bashô, haiku was a kind of light verse that depended in large part on fancy, wit, and wordplay for its effect. The most famous poem of that era is surely Moritake’s: a fallen blossom returning to the branch? Oh, a butterfly! While this poem is not without merit, its effect is based upon a conceit rather than on insight. Bashô’s great revelation was to show that poetry of great depth and resonance could be realized within the brief form of haiku. Contrast the previous verse with this one by Bashô: cooling cooling feet treading the wall— a midday nap trans. William J. Higginson This is a poem of pure sensation, in which we can feel the heat of summer and the poet’s real joy in the simple pleasures of life. While some might find Moritake’s hokku more “poetic” than Bashô’s, his is a poem of the head, while Bashô’s is of the heart—and feet! Moritake’s cleverness seems rather forced in comparison. By the seventeenth century a number of aesthetic principles had infused literature in Japan, and the application of these principles to haiku were a significant part of the “Bashô revolution” that continue to make haiku a viable literary form today. Among them are concepts associated with Zen arts, such as wabi, the aesthetic appreciation of loneliness, poverty, and simplicity, and sabi, the appreciation of the subdued elegance and loneliness of old, worn things. Another important principle associated with classical Japanese haiku is hosomi (“slenderness”). Slenderness allows the poet to paint the scene, then disappear. Shibumi (“astringency”) gives haiku its tang—the flavor of persimmons rather than peaches. Haruo Shirane (Traces of Dreams, Stanford, 1998) names other aesthetic principles that lay at the heart of Bashô’s poetics: kôgo kizoku (“awakening to the high, returning to the low”), fûga no makoto (“poetic truth”), zôka zuijun (“following the creative”), butsuga ichinyo (“object and self as one”), fueki ryûkô (“the unchanging and changing”), and karumi (“lightness”). Haiku has also borrowed the aesthetic principles of aware (pronounced ah-wa-ray, a feeling of deep compassion or pathos) and yugen (graceful beauty suffused with aesthetic principles of mono no aware (“deep sensitivity to things”) and yugen (“ineffable mystery’) from classical Japanese poetry Wabi, sabi, hosomi, and karumi are probably the principles that have had the most impact on making haiku what it is today. The wabi ideal of loneliness and poverty and of standing apart from the crowd, and the sabi appreciation for what is undervalued and time-worn have made it possible for haiku to be seen by some as a way of life or spiritual quest, the “way of haiku.” It is partly as a result of the application of these that haiku has come to be a “poetry of the overlooked.” Hosomi and karumi have helped mold haiku into a genre of poetry that is capable of great depth, but is at the same time capable of the restraint necessary to achieve this without overwhelming the reader. As Shirane points out, hosomi refers to a slenderness of mind as well as a slenderness of expression. It helps the poet approach an object with a delicacy that permits an egoless interpenetration with the object, allowing one to perceive its essence. Pure perception allied with restrained expression are the ideals upon which haiku is founded. Since Bashô’s time, haiku has had its ups and downs. Perhaps the lowest point came in the mid-nineteenth century, when Bashô was worshiped as a god—literally—and haiku imitated the form but not the spirit of his work. Shiki helped to revive haiku by criticizing Bashô in print—something that shocked the poetic establishment of the time. Shiki’s critical work, combined with the introduction of Western aesthetic theories and the Western concept of individualism, has considerably expanded the range of modern Japanese haiku. It has at the same time, unfortunately, led contemporary Japanese haiku away from the aesthetic depths that Bashô achieved. Today once again, wit is sometimes prized over insight, with haiku in danger of being supplanted by pseudohaiku or zappai. Contemporary Japanese haiku master Akito Arima has lamented that we now live “in the age of zappai.” In America we have the same dilemma: zappai is what is called “haiku” in most mass-market publications, from USA Today’s “daily haiku”—seventeen syllable witticisms—to The New Yorker’s “honku”—seventeen-syllable poems about honking car horns. From traffic noise to Zen—this is the space filled by haiku today. R.H. Blyth as much as says that Zen is haiku and haiku is Zen. He understood that haiku at its best is more than a form and demands a unique artistic discipline to be understood and practiced. Whatever its status as literature, haiku requires a special state of mind, not necessarily Zen satori, but a mindset that impels poets to go outside of themselves to achieve an understanding of the “suchness” or essence of things. |
Dear Lee:
Thank you. Each of the haiku I posted, with the exception of the first, play with the conventions of haiku (too long, excessively minimal, no specific seasonal word, etc.). I was curious to see how far one could go towards stretching or bending the conventions before they can no longer be considered haiku--or, if you prefer, haiku-like. The moonset piece is actually the ending of a free-verse poem I wrote years ago. But thank you for the suggestion on turning it into a haiku--I have no problem making the necessary cuts/edits in order to do so. What I would be interested in is a discussion of form. In your suggestion for the moonset poem, you have truncated the last line (in terms of the 5-7-5 syllable pattern that is drilled into our American minds as schoolchildren). How much variation in that is 'allowable'? For instance, the leaves originally went: rain-weight: a leaf uncups drops Secondly, how much haiku do you see that doesn't specifically refer to nature or seasons which you find successful? Or would this all be considered heretical? I would be curious to know. Thank you again. nyctom [This message has been edited by nyctom (edited May 03, 2004).] |
I tried a couple of" two-three-two"stress poems. I'm not sure how to handle punctuation.
Janet Across pale skies ibises trace a Vee cold parting A book falls open its pages still unread midday torpor [This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited May 03, 2004).] |
Tom--
How far is it possible to go? Minimilist haiku--whether successful or not is up to the reader, of course--has gone as far as the single word. About 25 years ago, the word "tundra" in the middle of an otherwise empty page was presented as a haiku. (By Cor van den Heuvel, also of NYC, by the way.) Other single word "haiku" have been done since then, as you might expect. The limit is just where you suspect it might be: a blank page. As far as more "reasonable"conventions are concerned, even the Japanese masters produced a significant number of hyper- or hypo-syllabic poems, so this practice of tinkering with the form goes back hundreds of years. Only people writing in English have somehow gotten the idea that 17 syllables is sacrosanct! From my point of view, as an editor and as someone who has made a study of haiku, seeing a poem such as: rain-weight: a leaf uncups drops doesn't bother me in the least. Brevity, not a set number of syllables, is the essence of haiku form. You might also want to take a look at my postings on the "haiku form?" thread, as some also pertain to this issue. My pleasure--thanks for asking. Lee |
Sun, rain
sun, light, cloud — night freeze |
How to handle punctuation? Janet, I am afraid you'll be sorry you asked! Both these haiku beg for some punctuation at the end of the second line. But before we get to punctuation, both present an opportunity to address a more crucial issue for haiku.
In general, one must avoid having the third line as a "title" or "conclusion" derived from the first image. If it is merely a title, then it is usually a failed haiku. Sometimes,however, and I think this point pertains to these two haiku, what is really the context of the poem (which should be presented first) has been displaced to the third line for dramatic effect. IMHO, both poems would benefit from stitching the first and third lines, which considerably increases the resonance of each poem. This would give us: cold parting ibises trace a Vee across pale skies midday torpor its pages still unread a book falls open The second is quite similar in mood to one of my own: summer afternoon-- a pair of glasses resting on an open book Haiku generally "follow the order of perception." Putting the context in the third line is a common mistake for those beginning to explore haiku. Punctuation depends on the relationship one would like to establish between the images of the poem. I have an idea of what I think would work best in your poem, but perhaps it is best to present some general thoughts (more than you ever wanted to consider!) on punctuation in haiku and let you decide for yourself. Today's lecture (sorry!): "Punctuation in haiku." Lee Japanese haiku usually contain a “cutting word,” a grammatical particle that causes the text to be divided into two parts, or adds emphasis to one part. Cutting words may have evolved in part because classical Japanese lacks punctuation; in English-language haiku, we often use punctuation where Japanese would use the cutting technique. Punctuation can be a helpful aid to the reader, especially if assistance is needed to link two images or to clarify the syntactical relationship between words of the poem. The seminal work on punctuation in English-language haiku is a series of three short essays by Adrian Clarkson that appeared in the magazine Cicada in 1977, and much of the classification of the straightforward use of punctuation below is based on Clarkson’s analysis. The em-dash (—)is the most commonly encountered mark in haiku. It is used in two ways. One is to show a sharp break in focus or an unexpected contrast. Here, the em-dash separates two images, yet invites comparison of the parts: spring moon— a cricket sits quietly atop its cabbage Ross Figgins Venus at dusk— a thin slice of lemon in my water glass Emiko Miyashita In some cases, by extension, what precedes the dash is the setting or context of the haiku and what comes after is some action that takes place there—Kawamoto’s base and superposed part. The dash invites movement back and forth between the images, as in Jeanne Emrich’s poem: first snow— the Hawaiian visitor sticks out her tongue A pair of dashes can be used to create a parenthetical pause or a sense of space—and separation—as in the following: the water strider —from darkness to darkness— briefly mars the moon Robert Spiess The colon throws the action forward, directing the reader’s attention to what follows. It is often used when the second part of the poem points out a characteristic or attribute of the first, as in this haiku by Garry Gay: Old retriever: he opens one eye at the tossed stick Sometimes the characteristic is something unexpected: a horse-drawn plow: sunflowers stand in the traces Gene Doty In other cases, the colon directs attention outward, from a specific perception to a general condition of which we have been unaware. a grasshopper jumps into it: summer dusk Michael McClintock or a blossom falling after the wind has ceased: evening calm H.F. Noyes The semicolon balances two images, providing separation without emphasis: Winter moon; a beaver lodge in the marsh, mounded with snow Robert Spiess In order to help convey the haiku ideal of incompleteness most contemporary poets do not terminate their haiku with full stops, and they use periods otherwise only when the sense of form demands it. For example, periods may occasionally be used within a haiku to create an effect of closure, even repeatedly, as in my haiku: his side of it. her side of it. winter silence The deliberate omission of a period at the end is to suggest that the silence goes on. In any event, a period should usually not be used arbitrarily at the end of a haiku because it end-stops it in a way that works against the ideal of reverberation. The ellipsis has several functions. It usually indicates that something is missing or has been omitted. In an imaginative extension of this function it is used in haiku, as Elizabeth Searle Lamb has done, to indicate the passage of time: and after … drifting toward sleep spring peepers Coming at the end of a haiku, the ellipsis can indicate a lingering thought or feeling or a moment of emotion as in Patricia J. Machmiller‘s poem: young leaves: this feeling of wanting to know what now I can never know … Commas, question marks, and exclamation marks are also used occasionally in haiku, usually functioning as they would in standard text. Most of the comma’s work in haiku is done with line breaks, so it is seldom seen. In addition to indicating a simple interrogative, the question mark can be used in haiku to indicate a surprise of perception, suggesting a meditative state: Steadily it snows … Under the shadowy pines— where are the shadows? O. Southard Sometimes it is used to pose a question that is then answered in the haiku way: where’s summer gone? a scarecrow points to an empty field Anna Holley or to ask a rhetorical question: hard rain what cloud could have held it? John Stevenson A caution here: while a rhetorical question such as this might seem to be a natural way to expand the feeling of a haiku by making it more open ended, it is often simply a disguised form of commentary and must be used sparingly to avoid limiting the potential of the haiku. The exclamation mark is used to indicate surprise or amazement, but it can easily become a crutch. The first translators of Japanese haiku, including Blyth, liberally sprinkled their renditions with exclamation points, and early English-language haiku poets also were fond of them. Writers today, however, favor a more reticent approach. They believe the element of surprise belongs in the words of poem and needs no billboarding. This haiku by Michael McClintock shows how the exclamation mark can be used effectively: a poppy a field of poppies! the hills blowing with poppies! To sum up, the trend in the modern haiku movement is to use only standard capitalization and as little punctuation as possible. In the final analysis, it is really not important what method a poet uses as long as these formatting devices are used to clarify the text and do not draw attention to themselves at the expense of the haiku essence. (from Haiku: A Poet's Guide) |
| All times are GMT -5. The time now is 08:51 PM. |
Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.7.4
Copyright ©2000 - 2025, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.