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).]