Okay, here we go!

Welcome to our Haiku Master Class with Lee Gurga. Use this thread to post poems and questions which you would like Lee to consider during his stay with us as Distinguished Guest.

Of poems, Lee has said "the more the merrier," since he likes to look at a body of work when considering a poet's strengths and weaknesses vis-à-vis haiku. (Naturally, he may not be able to discuss every single poem!) That said, it might be best to limit our selections to ten or so haiku per person at first, so that the thread doesn't become too crowded and so that Lee will have time to look at everyone's contributions. If things slow down, you can always post another batch later.

We will be keeping the "Haiku Open Mic" thread open as well, and people are welcome to continue the discussion there. Please feel free to copy poems and questions from that thread into this one. The idea of this thread is simply to give Lee a clean blackboard to teach from, so that he doesn't have to sort through all of the posts on the Open Mic to find material to discuss. Naturally, Lee may look in on the Open Mic as well (I believe he's been quietly watching it, in fact) and respond to questions there as he sees fit. But if you want to be sure that Lee sees a particular poem or question, this is the best place to post them; this is now officially Lee's classroom!

Let the discussion begin.

*

p.s. Edited back to add a ROBOTS tag to keep Google & Co. from snooping. This is now an archiving-free zone, so post away!



[This message has been edited by Stephen Collington (edited October 15, 2008).]

For some reason I’m feeling freaked out at the thought of him reading my stuff.

Welcome Lee, and thanks for doing this again -- last time was very invigorating and great fun. I'll break the ice by copying over the batch I put in the open mic thread:


Hold still, dragonfly –
I promise not to zoom in
much closer than this.



Gypsy moth cocoons
in a canopy of trees –
sound of gentle rain.




Chilly morning wind
as the sun begins to set –
the fog didn’t lift.




The geyser erupts –
for a moment I forget
the smell of sulfur.




Two oystercatchers
call to each other and fly
before the next wave.




I will never know
if that is a sea lion
or a bunch of kelp.




On a blade of grass:
the last remaining droplet
of yesterday's rain.




Forgive me, spider –
the sun only lit one strand
of your sidewalk web.




A pink penstemon
holding a poppy petal –
a brand new flower.




Buried in a pile
of camellia petals:
camellia petals.




David R.

(be brave, henie)

Thank you, Lee Gurga, haiku guy.


<br clear=all>
box turtle
double yellow stripe
which way?

<br clear=all>
fall dance
light leaf
glass slipper

<br clear=all>
cedar trees
dressed in fall’s misty
spider webs

<br clear=all>
red pears
green glass bowl
let her go

Don't worry about me, Henrietta, I am as tough as mashed potatoes!

Thanks for the kind words, David! I am looking forward to this. I am not sure how the formatting will work here, but I am going to try to intersperse my comments with your poems below:

Hold still, dragonfly –
I promise not to zoom in
much closer than this.

This one if fine and fun. Haiku, of course, will vary greatly in depth, and only one in a zillion is a masterpiece. There is not a real lot here, but what is here is worth having.



Gypsy moth cocoons
in a canopy of trees –
sound of gentle rain.

A nice, gentle haiku.


Chilly morning wind
as the sun begins to set –
the fog didn’t lift.

I am a little confused about this one--not sure how the morning and sunset got next to each other here.


The geyser erupts –
for a moment I forget
the smell of sulfur.

Here the subject is percption, which is an interesting kind of haiku. Here is another:

while pondering
e=mc(squared)
stung by a mosquito Jerry Gill

(Sorry, but I don't know how to do a superscript 2 on the keypad! Duh!)


Two oystercatchers
call to each other and fly
before the next wave.

Not lot here . . . more of what we would call a "nature note".


I will never know
if that is a sea lion
or a bunch of kelp.

And as a consequence, neither shall I!


On a blade of grass:
the last remaining droplet
of yesterday's rain.

Has a nice gentle feeling with a hint of sadness.


Forgive me, spider –
the sun only lit one strand
of your sidewalk web.

Issa-like in it's element of compassion.



A pink penstemon
holding a poppy petal –
a brand new flower.

OK, but it doesn't seem to have a lot of significance.


Buried in a pile
of camellia petals:
camellia petals.

This one is a little more interesing.

My pleasure! Comments interspersed:

<br clear=all>
box turtle
double yellow stripe
which way?

Sort of interesting. I may not be getting this completely, but I assume the yellow stripes are aluding to highway markings?

<br clear=all>
fall dance
light leaf
glass slipper

I like the ambiguity of the first line and the interesting surprise of the glass slipper and its associations. And the short lines add to the lightness of the dance. Nicely done.

<br clear=all>
cedar trees
dressed in fall’s misty
spider webs

A nice picture, but it doesn't seem to have the interest or potential significance of the fall dance poem.

<br clear=all>
red pears
green glass bowl
let her go

This one does a good job of taking me somewhere interesting. From an editorial point of view, I wish there was more connection between the pears and the bowl, and when I read it I wonder why the pears are not in the bowl. But then, as I think about it, perhaps that is the point: the ambuiguity as to whether the pears are in the bowl or we are seeing someone who is in the process of putting them in the bowl or hesitating to put them in the bowl or looking at the pears and the bowl or . . . any of several interesting possibilities. Speaking of bowls, here is one that i have been working on this week that I am not sure if I am done with, but I thought it was only fair to put in some of mine that may not be completely raw, but haven't had a chance to simmer:

spoon in the empty bowl
you teach me how to read
the pregnancy test

Ok. I just wrote this for this thread, Duncan mentioned the Haibum, so I had to try. Not knowing a thing about them. odds are I made a real pigs ear of it. but I like the concept of the form and prose combination. I look forward to the morning read in this thread ~~ henie

~~

Lentils, barley, split peas, are always tucked into a container marked
“For a pleasant winter” And that winter came and went unused, sunshine
had worked true magic, and life moved on.

Moths in the pantry
sleep in seasons
peppered reality


Mountain men, explorers’ of air walk with their scalps skimming space It’s said so they keep their cool,
while at the shore; whales throw their weight
to land, a first new move into this alien place.

with rations
every one
counts


To have a memory like that! Forever is plastic box
the dimensions of a short day, and the fortitude to spread
generations hoping for the lid to be burped; an open time,
that lets part of you get free


---I edited this, by george I think I'm getting it






[This message has been edited by Henrietta kelly (edited October 16, 2008).]

Yes, Henie, haibun is an interesting haiku art. A lot of people who are just coming to haiku are attacted to it perhaps because they already know how to write prose well and are a bit intimidated by the haiku part. But a haibun is only as good as the haiku in it, so no matter how fine your prose is, if the haiku are weak, the haibun will fail. For the purposes of this master class, I think it would be better to focus on the haiku. After one has some fine haiku, one can use them to write haibun if one is so inclined. It is true that sometimes fine haiku "drop out" like fruit from a tree, but my experience is that it doesn't happen that often. In any event, if one is going to attempt haibun, it is important to be careful that the haiku in it are actually independent haiku, rather than just what is really part of the prose chopped up into three lines. I'm not big on putting up some of my finished stuff, especially at this stage, but i could post a haibun or two sometime if people are interested in seeing them.

Hi Lee and welcome, I was hoping you'd have a peek at these:

Lost—
The sun will rise
West wind joy


Old man content
His wife prepares his meal
Delicate salmon


Autumn wind
Leans toward the fire
Spring leans back


November rain—
Harbinger of the eternal
Runny nose


Hippopotamus
Dreams of floating in the haze
Of the summer sun




[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited October 15, 2008).]

Lee—

Haiku strike me as being easy to write but damnably hard to write well. I wonder why this is. I am sure it is something to do with the general difficulty of writing small poems: the smaller the harder. But there is something else to haiku. Perhaps what I am asking in a round about way is, what makes haiku haiku? Certainly the form is only a beginning.

Anyhow, here is one I wrote for the class. (I'm not the most prolific.)

coffin descending
through a hole in the hoar grass—
how bright the rowan berries!

Thanks, Lee, I like your haiku very much! You're teaching me how to read haiku - I've enjoyed all your lucid, helpful essays and notes that Steve C. posted. Here's a revision of one of mine:

live turtle
on the highway’s center strip
fucked

Hello Lee! Thank you for being here. I bring three absolute beginner haiku and many questions. First question stems from the inherent weakness in my attempts: are there any specific techniques for practising and effecting successful transference between images?

dry leaves
skitter the concrete pond
skateboarders swoop


lap-swimming breaststroke
arms part pulling shadow-hearts
along tiled pool floor


orange nasturtiums
nudging through the paling fence ...
another way home

Cally




[This message has been edited by Cally Conan-Davies (edited October 15, 2008).]

Mary, I like:

live turtle
on highway sixty nine
fucked

(I was watching the Ramones last night.)



[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited October 15, 2008).]

Thank you for the welcome, Roy. Let us see if I can make some meaningful comments . . .

Lost—
The sun will rise
West wind joy

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."

Old man content
His wife prepares his meal
Delicate salmon

There is a little story here. The question is: why are we interested in the story? For me as a reader, it is not apparent why salmon brings content as opposed, say, shrimp or pizza. This poem, like most poems we read, "completes the circuit" for the reader. In my experience, the best haiku leave a gap and let the poem spark for the reader.

Autumn wind
Leans toward the fire
Spring leans back

This is a kind of fanciful haiku that can be fun to write, but is often more interesting for the poet than the reader.

November rain—
Harbinger of the eternal
Runny nose

I think this one works the best of this group.


Hippopotamus
Dreams of floating in the haze
Of the summer sun

Curiously, there is a Japanese haiku poet that has made a career of hippopotamus haiku. (I can't recall his name, but if anyone is interested, I can get it.)

Hi Lee,

Do you know this one, by Richard Wilbur? I was wondering what you make of it as haiku.

Sleepless at Crown Point

All night, this headland
Lunges into the rumpling
Capework of the wind.

Hi Lee,

Thank you so much for reading these. I hope this can be much more than just making you work! lol

Old man content
His wife prepares his meal
Delicate salmon

"There is a little story here. The question is: why are we interested in the story? For me as a reader, it is not apparent why salmon brings content as opposed, say, shrimp or pizza. This poem, like most poems we read, "completes the circuit" for the reader. In my experience, the best haiku leave a gap and let the poem spark for the reader."

I struggled with this more than any. The salmon is meant to express the inevitability of growing old together happily. Drawn up the river to their destiny. It was:

Old man sits content
As his wife prepares a meal
Salmon are running

Perhaps I'm demanding too much or not conveying my intent clearly enough.

Best, Roy

"Curiously, there is a Japanese haiku poet that has made a career of hippopotamus haiku. (I can't recall his name, but if anyone is interested, I can get it.)"

This, coupled with my inexplicable interest in Samurai swords convinces me that I must have become partly Japanese, at some point.



[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited October 15, 2008).]

Hi Lee,

Thanks for joining us! I hope you're having fun.

Anyway, are you thinking of Tsubouchi Toshinori perhaps? (Pronunciation note for everyone, Ts, like the end of "its," Tsoo-boh-oo-chee, four syllables; last name first in Japanese.) Natsuishi Ban'ya has a translation of one of his more famous pieces in an online essay:

sakura chiru / anata mo kaba ni / narinasai

Cherry blossoms are falling--
you also must become
a hippopotamus

Actually, I'm not sure about Ban'ya's "must become" here; the Japanese "narinasai" is a medium-level polite way of saying "please become" (or "please turn into"). It's the sort of expression a Japanese woman might use to her husband--especially with "anata" for "you." (The Japanese use different words for "you" depending on whom they're addressing.) So I'd almost prefer something like

cherry blossoms falling --
honey, you too, hurry up
and become a hippo

But that may be coming on too strong, LOL!

Anyway, Ban'ya's essay is actually rather interesting, especially his comments on season words as "keywords of animism." So folks, if you've got a moment, you might want to check it out too, HERE .

Great fun!

Steve C.

*

Editing back: bad link!



[This message has been edited by Stephen Collington (edited October 15, 2008).]

Many people think haiku should be easy because it is short, but, as you point out, the brevity is one of its major challenges. The next issue is the form (external and internal) and the aesthetic issues that must be faces. After all, one can write many, many kinds of short poems. What makes one a haiku and one not? Not an easy question, and one that I have spent more than half a lifetime trying to answer for myself. Some of the answers can be found in resources that Stephen kindly posted for us. One possible position is that anything in 17 syllables is a haiku. But this doesn't leave much of an adventure for a poet, does it? After all, if there is nothing more, a random word generator is more useful than a poet. The seasonal image is important, but not always necessary if you have some other element to add depth or interest to the poem. One might say that haiku offers a special approach to experiencing life and sharing that experience, but that is too general to be helpful advice for writing. So we fall back on some general descriptive rather than prescriptive, definition, which normally includes at least several of the following, but not always all at once (and sometimes others):
1. a short poem, normally between 10 and 17 syllables, but in practice a much wider range, between 1 and perhaps 20, depending on the content of the poem and the length of the syllables, e.g., "be" vs "through."
2. A seasonal or nature image which is connected to the heart of the poet's experience as opposed to something tacked on.
3. literal images rather than overtly figurative language.
4. an ideational or syntactic incompleteness that permits the reader to participate as co-creator of the experience
5. multiple images that permit some aesthetic or emotional tension for the reader to experience.


coffin descending
through a hole in the hoar grass—
how bright the rowan berries

Leonard Koren wrote, "The closer things get to non-existence the more evocative they become." So poems that contain images of death can be some of the most powerful. The rest is up to us--what can we add from our experience that gives the reader some new or moving perspective on that powerful transition? Probably the most important thing is the genuineness of our own experience and then communicating that experience to the reader.

Thank you for your kind remarks--entirely undeserved, I am afraid.

live turtle
on the highway’s center strip
fucked

Now this is a little more direct, isn't it? Fucked, ideed! Much more interesting (and fun) to me as a reader than the original version.

I think techinque is a secondary question. A more important question is: what do you have that you want to communicate to the reader? Unless an experience is inherently interesting to you, it is not likely to be interesting to the reader. So my basic advice to the beginning haiku poet is: find something interesting and then write about that.

dry leaves
skitter the concrete pond
skateboarders swoop


lap-swimming breaststroke
arms part pulling shadow-hearts
along tiled pool floor


orange nasturtiums
nudging through the paling fence ...
another way home

This one seems by far the most interesting of the three haiku. Perhaps because it so obviously something in it that is meaningful to YOU.

Put me on the spot, will you? I like and respect Richard and his work. Interesting language (as always), interesting picture, but not much more than an interesting picture in interesting language.

Lee, your helpful comments about communicating meaningful, direct experience made me think again about my experience with the turtle yesterday. I didn't like the ambuguity of "live" (short or long "i"?), so I focused on my memory of seeing the turtle. It was a jolt, and that's how I got L3. And the turtle was more than just alive, he was peering.

peering turtle
on the highway’s center strip
fucked

I copied these points from one of your essays, and I've been studying them:

HAIKU
It is a poem
It is a poem limited in length, in English that limit being somewhere between 15 and 20 syllables
It presents images rather than ideas
It is intuitive rather than intellective
It uses observation of nature and the seasons as a basis for that intuition
Its observations are specific rather than general.

Thanks, Lee, for the excellent advice. It reminds me of Philip Sidney's "look in thy heart, and write" - only with haiku, looking in the world is the way to looking in the heart.

Mary - I love 'peering'. I can see the neck and head now!

Cally

[This message has been edited by Cally Conan-Davies (edited October 15, 2008).]

Ah! The salmon in the stream is something different altogether. It seems that as you went up one level of abstraction, you left something essential out of the poem. This is a common hazard in haiku: because if the brevity, we can sometimes leave out some essential aspect of what we are trying to convey. We have the whole picture in our minds, but unless we share enough of the picture with the reader, we can leave them puzzled, as I was when I read the first version. This is much better! Now I get it!

Fun, ideed! Yes, Tsubouchi is just who I am thinking about, but I am not at home, so I didn't have anyplace to check. Wonderful to hear your comments on the haiku, and what seems to me to be a vastly superior version of the poem. I think Ban'ya can be a steamroller at times. By the way, if anyone is going to be in Tokyo on Halloween, Ban'ya has organized a haiku festival for that weekend.

Thanks, Cally. Did you read Carmen Sterba's essay? There are some good haiku in there that make me think haiku are like little bundles of flavor, like a satsuma tangerine's sweet-sour soaking of your mouth (that's a line from an old poem).

full moon
mist from my whisper
on her silver earring

William Cullen, Jr, Frogpond, XXIX:1


Steve C. - animism - who knew! I was worried my turtle one needed a season. Now I see it's ok to have a keyword. I love these from the Ban'ya essay -

Cutting
the white leeks
like shafts of light

Momoko Kuroda (1938-)

Roy - I think your salmon running has reached haiku level. I like it. The old couple no longer coupling, but absorbing the energy of the coupling salmon for dinner.

[This message has been edited by Mary Meriam (edited October 15, 2008).]

Yes, Mary. I love the examples in Sterba's essay, especially these two:

sunlit jar
the beekeeper's gift
on the doorstep

Carmen Sterba, The Heron's Nest, III:6

after love
the sweet burst
of cherry tomato

G. Claire Gallagher, How Fast the Ground Moves, 2001

One of life's great experiences is biting a cherry tomato - I've always felt the sun must taste like that! I do agree with you. From what I'm reading and realising and experiencing, my favourite haiku leave a taste in my mouth. Flavour, essence.

And Roy, I agree - the salmon is very tasty now!

Cally

editing in: Steve - thanks for the Ban'ya essay. Fine examples of the 'break' and 'leap'.


[This message has been edited by Cally Conan-Davies (edited October 15, 2008).]

Good morning Lee. Mary and world.
A very productive night it seems.
Mary your summary of lee’s lesson is worth stealing for notes, I will do just that. ;D

Lee about the Haibum; If I understand you are saying the prose and the haiku are there to make allowances as breathing space on the page, a way of taking a rest in the experience, yet keeping the reader attention moving through the lines. A bit like reading two books at once.
And that content of both must be dissimilar. Hmm! So it can never be a single sitting in writing, the mind would lose the flow- but it would turn into an opportunity to combine works that need a spark.

Is my understanding in this correct?

I’ll not overwhelm you with my attempts, but here are three -- I want to bring Australiana to the forefront in mine so images might not come though-- ~~ henie



Odd kangaroo walk
looks into the summer side
of big red centre

Salmon Gums so pink
leaves reflecting noon light lifts
every dark mood passing

In the dawn time world
A new frog leaps to land flat
footed in mystery


[This message has been edited by Henrietta kelly (edited October 15, 2008).]

Welcome back, Lee! I'd be thrilled for you to take a look at my attempts below. Thanks so much for the time and effort you're putting into this!

Donna


the goslings swim
pollen coats the farm pond
my baby kicks

A small mound of dirt
collar on a Lego cross
dandelion bouquet

moonless summer night
under the yellow porch light
a toad licks its lips

brown leaf hulas down
onto the snow covered steps
at Aloha Travel

Monarch butterflies
sip water from a boot print
on a southbound trail

frosted pasture
guernsey cows milking
the morning sun

scratchy laughter outside
starlings blacken the pine trees
the cat wants in-- now

What a wonderful example of the nuance of translation.

(I am a master of the obvious.)



[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited October 15, 2008).]

henie, that's Lee's summary of his essay - I just copied it.

Donna - this gave me a chill - good one!

oops! thanks Mary http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtml/biggrin.gif

be sure if you steal
a dream it is tagged owner
after owner
in the other room dreaming.

edit in-- donna agree something is working but cows don’t milk themselves. I know you mean producing the milk.

maybe "coming into milk" gives two senses , you also have a beat short on L1 and L3 where you can extend if you wish to
. I use the word dew because it adds texture and a time. and a colour for ease in case the cows look is not a familiar one--

Dew frosted pasture
tan cows coming into milk

That leaves a whole line vacant for the spin of choice - mine is something we no longer get--

Cream top of the bottle



well thats what I think anyway! ~~ henie

edit Ps

I do still like the moos soaking up the light, my edit was over the top as always.




[This message has been edited by Henrietta kelly (edited October 15, 2008).]

I am not sure haibun is like reading two books at once. Let me begin with a disclaimer: I do not consider myself an expert on haibun. With that understanding, I will share some of my thoughts on it with you. There are several things I look for in a haibun. First, the haiku themselves must be successful as haiku. Otherwise, you might as well write a short story. Secondly, there must be both sufficient connection between the prose and the poem(s) to make the piece hang together as a work of literature, and at the same time there ought to be sufficient disjunction between them to make it possible for the reader/listener to experience the shift back and forth between the haiku and the prose as a shift. So, it seems, haibun is not so simple after all!

Yes, let's bring Australiana to the forefront! Lot's of fine haiku poets in Australia and New Zealand, folks.

Odd kangaroo walk
looks into the summer side
of big red centre

Forgive me. I do know what a kangaroo is, but I am afraid "big red centre" has me scratching my head. ??

Salmon Gums so pink
leaves reflecting noon light lifts
every dark mood passing

I am afraid I am puzzled as to what the connection between the salmon and and the leaves/light.

In the dawn time world
A new frog leaps to land flat
footed in mystery

My pleasure--thanks for sharing your poems!

the goslings swim
pollen coats the farm pond
my baby kicks

As I might have mentioned earlier, three images in three lines often make a haiku more disjointed that it could be otherwise. I wonder if you could connect the images of the first two lines to let the pollen give us some sense of the movement of the goslings?

A small mound of dirt
collar on a Lego cross
dandelion bouquet

moonless summer night
under the yellow porch light
a toad licks its lips

Sounds like a bad date . . . I hope he didn't try to kiss you!

brown leaf hulas down
onto the snow covered steps
at Aloha Travel

Monarch butterflies
sip water from a boot print
on a southbound trail

frosted pasture
guernsey cows milking
the morning sun

Nicely done!

scratchy laughter outside
starlings blacken the pine trees
the cat wants in-- now

One of the things that makes haiku haiku is a certain sharpness or snappiness that the brevity of haiku allows. One of the challenges of writing haiku in 17 syllables in english--which is considerably more material than the 17 sounds that a japanese haiku contains--is that the longer syllables of english lose the snap. (For example, "laughter", two syllables in english would be, by my approximate count, at least 5 japanese sounds.) Not to pick on your haiku (I could have used any number of poems as an example), but if you compare

scratchy laughter outside
starlings blacken the pine trees
the cat wants in-- now

on the "snappiness index" with one of the poems by Carmen Sterba quoted by Cally:

sunlit jar
the beekeeper's gift
on the doorstep

you will get some idea of the difference between a haiku that follows an inexactly translated form (since japanese sounds DO NOT EQUAL english syllables) with one that is more in keeping with the spirit of the japanese form of 17 sounds. Or, to use two of your own poems as examples, if you compare your

frosted pasture
guernsey cows milking
the morning sun

to your own

scratchy laughter outside
starlings blacken the pine trees
the cat wants in-- now

I believe you will agree that the poems have a completely different feel. The "frosted pasture" floats, while the "scratchy laughter" well, doesn't. I hope that everyone will consider this point carefully, because it a very critical one if one is attempting to make a poem of the same species as japanese haiku.

Lee "Salmon Gum" is the name of the tree."we also have ghost gums in like vain)
The trunks are polished and reflect the light in a deep salmon colour from light to dark-- the leaves are deep green and waxy also, and all you see driving past is flashes of light. Truly I find it hard to stay on the road.

The red centre is just that. The centre of Australia. Think of it as the core of the earth. It is our generator in this great southern land.
kangaroos ranges in size from a small mouse size to seven foot tall, a jumping machine that can gut you in one. They roar like a lion, but can also make very nice pets, boots, coats and dinner; if one is so inclined to try it.
back to the drawing board. I don't think I will have much luck translating the images.. ! maybe a holly tree would work with the leaves—but not the trunks-- never mind~~ henie

" The frosted pasture floats"

is also a great image to use lee,
I wish I could write as well as I can see
-- rhyme not intened

~~henie

Hi Joan,

I agree with Lee that this thread here may not be the best place to start into the problem of haibun--there's going to be plenty to consider just with haiku! That said, the subject is fascinating and I quite understand your eagerness to explore it.

I've been developing a few last topics for the "Haiku Resources" thread, and haibun is one of them. So I hope to have some interesting links there for everyone to look into within the next few days. Meanwhile, you may want to look at the archives of "Simply Haiku," the online haiku magazine . . . which despite the name, regularly publishes all sorts of wonderful stuff besides just haiku. There is a Haibun feature in most issues, which will give you an idea of what other poets are doing in the form today. Also, don't miss SH Haibun editor Lynne Reese's introduction to the form; it neatly clarifies some of the things to look for in a good haibun.

Simply Haiku Archives (Note: Haibun begins as a regular feature in 2004)

Haibun: Editor's Introduction, by Lynne Reese

(Bonus!) Haibun (An outline by SH's former "haibun editor"--and overall editor--Robert Wilson)

That should get you rolling!

Steve C.

Editing back: What was I thinking? I completely forgot about cho just now! And what, you ask, is "cho"?

contemporary haibun online

In particular, don't miss the "Essays and Interviews by Editors" and the "Editor's Thought Pieces" which you'll find by scrolling down on the page. Lots there to chew on!



[This message has been edited by Stephen Collington (edited October 15, 2008).]

henie! I've been outside, and collected some images of this day for you - happening right now! I did laugh - I, too, wish I could write as well as I can see, and feel! Ah well, still ... it's a glorious day!!

flowering gum
hums with red stars
spring day

blue-tongued lizard
soaks in the sun
a tube of toothpaste

Cally

editing in:

Lee, I just read your comments on Donna's haiku. That 'snappiness' explanation is very helpful. A green snap to the language, like the snap of fresh asparagus. Such a practical, useful insight. Thank you so much for sharing this. I can see, and hear, just how right you are!



[This message has been edited by Cally Conan-Davies (edited October 15, 2008).]

I do believe she got it, she got it, she got it. How delightful!