[Lee Gurga]

Originally posted by David Rosenthal:
I am happy to read that, and grateful for your thoughtful comments on Higginson. I know it must be hard to put it in a few words, and it is generous of you to share your personal reflections.

O.K., let me try this one again with a new middle line:


Chilly morning wind
long after morning has passed --
the fog didn't lift.


Here are two new ones fresh from the redwoods:


Knowing they're still green,
even when I can't see them --
the redwoods at night.


Stepping just beyond
the shadow of the redwoods,
I notice the sun.


A few less fresh ones that I wonder about:


The bear and her cub
turn their noses to the air --
my blueberry scone.


The calving glacier
echoes like cannon fire;
seal pups keep sleeping.


After crashing here,
a wave from a foreign shore
slips back out to sea.


Millions of decades
of summers in the making --
this sand in my toes.


And three that might be senyru(?):


Surrounded by trees,
a vacationing artist
sketches a cabin.


Flushing the toilet,
I drown out the trumpeter --
morning reveille.


The professor's voice,
after jarring me awake,
lulls me back to sleep.


Thanks again,

David R.

Good to have you back, David! My, you have been busy! Some thoughts below . . .

Chilly morning wind
long after morning has passed --
the fog didn't lift.

i am afraid i don't recall the original version, but i will have a go at it. i like the image of the first two lines very well. in the first line, though, i would prefer 'chill morning wind' to 'chilly morning wind'. if you read the line out loud, i think you will see why. and i wonder why you need 'has' in the second line . . . oh yeah, need those syllables, don't you! (sorry, i couldn't resist!) the third line, though, i am not completely happy with. as a statement and a complete sentence, can you see how it is static and brings us to a halt? perhaps you would consider something that will let our thoughts linger but not bring us to a halt?

Knowing they're still green,
even when I can't see them --
the redwoods at night.

i like this. here are a few responses to consider. if i am getting this right, i wonder why you have a dash at the end of the second line rather than a colon? and i feel that 'the' at the beginning of the third line weakens it. please always look at your haiku as poems rather than collections of syllables. and i wish you would lose that damned period at the end!

Stepping just beyond
the shadow of the redwoods,
I notice the sun.

i like this except, again, the third line as complete sentence statement. might you find a way to express your feeling without "notice'? it is such a throw-away word--of course you notice everything in the poem otherwise you wouldn't have mentioned it!

The bear and her cub
turn their noses to the air --
my blueberry scone.

The calving glacier
echoes like cannon fire;
seal pups keep sleeping.

another sentence/statement third line.

After crashing here,
a wave from a foreign shore
slips back out to sea.

interesting

Millions of decades
of summers in the making --
this sand in my toes.


(David:And three that might be senyru(?)

Surrounded by trees,
a vacationing artist
sketches a cabin.

i think this one is ok, but the first line seems a little weak

Flushing the toilet,
I drown out the trumpeter --
morning reveille.

i am always a little leery of poems that "save up" the context for the third line to effect surprise. you might want to consider changing the line order here.

The professor's voice,
after jarring me awake,
lulls me back to sleep.

Senryu, indeed. been on both ends of this, as most of us have!

And since you have a toilet senryu, i can't resist sharing one i wrote recently

second flush--
the little morning turd
cheerfully pops back up

now i challenge anyone to make this BETTER by making it 17 syllables! we will let Steve C. be the judge and the prize will be a book of mine, if you can consider that a prize!

Lee

[Lee Gurga]

Originally posted by Cally Conan-Davies:
Hi Lee! I know you are leaving us very soon now. I would appreciate if you could honestly tell me if any life-spark is coming through yet in this little group.
Cally

Life spark everywhere, Cally! BTW, i am planning on hanging around until i go to bed tomorrow night--that would be around 10 pm US central time--so i will be around for a while yet. Some thoughts below:

steam rising
from a tea-cup
4am

you have the right time here--i will try later to find the poem by akhmatova that explains why. (i think i have the book in town and won't be going into town until later.) '4am' is, however, the context of the poem and i find that it is usually weaker to present the context in the third line. (i just made a similar comment on a poem by david r.) in haikuland, we talk about presenting the images in the order of perception. now it may be true that you didn't know exactly what time it was until later, but you must have known it was past midnight.

an old woman
bending slow
native grasses

certainly a spark here

warm breath
on the glass
moon in the day

i think this one has potential, but the third line seems weak with its prepositional phrase. might you sharpen it up?

your head
on my breast
moon at noon

i like this one a lot, but why not 'noon moon'?

from leaf to cloud
cloud to leaf ...
a fish leaps

i like this one, too. well done!

Lee

[Stephen Collington]

Originally posted by Lee Gurga:
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

Hi Lee,

I may have missed something somewhere along the line in this enormous thread, but as far as I can tell, no one has taken you up on your poem here.

Personally, I like it a great deal. In particular, I like the sense of quiet domesticity in that image of spoon and bowl, the way it sets a scene in five simple words. And then, the image of the couple bending over the pregnancy test, at once gently comic and gently suspenseful--the whole thing comes together in a beautiful moment of sun-filled (forgive the pun) expectancy.

That said, I wonder if it may not be vulnerable to "over-reading." Specifically, I'm thinking of spoon and bowl, and what "empty" might be taken to imply. If you wanted to, you could read that image as a metaphor for the larger relationship . . . and then "empty" takes on a whole new set of connotations, skewing the reading of the poem powerfully in one direction. Of course, there's no way of saying what the test result will be, and in that sense, such a reading--a (presumably unwanted) negative result--is entirely plausible. Actually, if the poem is be productively "openended," the possibility is almost required--where would the suspense be otherwise? The thing about "empty," though, is that it seems to preordain the results--as soon as you read the word, and the poem, in that way (empty=barren), it suddenly becomes hard to read it in any other. In other words, it doesn't feel so openended after all--and the reading that we're left with isn't nearly so much fun. Frankly, I wanted to kick myself for seeing it.

Anyway, I wonder what you might try here in place of "spoon in empty bowl" that would get around this problem. I still think the breakfast table is the perfect set up, and I like the word spoon. But can you eliminate "empty"?

For some reason, I like grapefruit:

spoon and grapefruit bowl . . .

Just a thought. And of course, there's no saying what an overactive imagination might make of "grapefruit" here!

Steve C.

p.s. I love your tipsy snail, chewing through the wine labels. It reminds me of something I found in the saijiki just the other day under "bookworm": *

shimi no ato / "hisashi" no hi no ji / shi no ji kana (Takahama Kyoshi)
trace of a bookworm / of "hisashi," the letter "hi" / the letter "shi" kana

Almost untranslatable, but "forever after" for hisashi ("a long time") suggests a way:

what the bookworm left:
of "forever after"
pieces fore and aft

(Hmm . . . A little too clever perhaps.)

* Note to all: yep, "bookworm" (shimi) is in fact a season word in Japanese--for summer in this case. Sure, the little beggars are around all year, but summer is the traditional season for bringing your books out into the garden to dry them in the sun (another season word, "dog days drying" . . . doyouboshi) and so that is the time when one notices their handiwork. As for why you'd want to dry your books in the sun, well, you'd have to live through a Japanese rainy season . . . mildew everywhere! Yuck.

* * *

Editing back: Lee, we cross-posted. I claim the honour! I'm the first little turd to pop cheerfully up again this morning. Flush!






[This message has been edited by Stephen Collington (edited October 20, 2008).]

[Lee Gurga]

Originally posted by Seree Zohar:
Lee - - this began as a jumble of thoughts, then a sentence of just over 100 words, then compacted as follows. Your crit appreciated, thanks.

.
a fresh mound
barely cold
earthworms charged

---------


Cally - I very much enjoyed the breath on the glass!
David R - your professor: innit just!

Seree, this is interesting, but i am afraid you lost me with 'charged' in the third line. if you could give me some help, i might be able to make a meaningful comment. thanks.

Lee

Lee

[Seree Zohar]

couldn't resist. better? neh, hardly likely. 17? yup


second flush--
the little morning turd
won't pass on though paper-shrouded



[hope you still have time for my earthworms...]
thanks for liking that one, Henie, Cally
* * *
Jan -
I think the first two lines of your poppy image have so much potential but are let down somehow by the third:

[Chiago Mapocho]

native grasses
bending slow
an old woman

Cally*, I like that one a lot except for "slow". That said, I know you want it to do double duty to both the old woman and the grass. Perhaps, which would also add the element of wind:

native grasses
bending west
and old woman

That actually does a triple duty.

PS, Seree: found yours very good as well. The technique reminds me of Yugen with the last line. I too, though, wondered about "charged". IMO, you're one word away from exquisite.

Two inspired ones while I still have the chance:

ash wedensday
moonspear on sunflowers'
testudoed heads

dawn to nepal evening
milk bottles
filled with yak shadow

(or:

first december
a nepal moon
under a cow's udder

/

sunset
nepal sun drinking
under a cow's udder)

Edit*: Thanks for the heads-up, Henriette. It's fixed.




[This message has been edited by Chiago Mapocho (edited October 20, 2008).]

[Stephen Collington]

Originally posted by Lee Gurga:
And since you have a toilet senryu, i can't resist sharing one i wrote recently

second flush--
the little morning turd
cheerfully pops back up

now i challenge anyone to make this BETTER by making it 17 syllables! we will let Steve C. be the judge and the prize will be a book of mine, if you can consider that a prize!

Lee

If I have to judge it, does that mean I can't win the prize? Not fair! Lee, I have your Haiku: A Poet's Guide (hint, folks, hint!), but I would love to have one of your collections.

Anyway, I'm quoting this so that everyone will see. Folks, let's keep him to his promise here--it's an opportunity not to be missed!

Here's my attempt. Even if I can't win, I can at least console myself with the thought that I tried:

flushed but unflustered
and cheerfully popping back
to stay . . . undeterred

*

Here we go, folks. The Master Class thread is now also officially the Swirly Turd Bake-Off thread! Pile 'em on!

Steve C.

[Chiago Mapocho]

second flush--
the little morning turd
resists the toilet's summoning




[This message has been edited by Chiago Mapocho (edited October 20, 2008).]

[Seree Zohar]

Lee -

earthworms charged

I had 2-3 different images in mind, but wanted to imply that the fresh mound is what charges the earthworm's activity (whether the mound is a recent burial, or turning the earth in very early spring, or whatever else)

not working?

[Lee Gurga]

Originally posted by Stephen Collington:

Hi Lee,

I may have missed something somewhere along the line in this enormous thread, but as far as I can tell, no one has taken you up on your poem here.

Personally, I like it a great deal. In particular, I like the sense of quiet domesticity in that image of spoon and bowl, the way it sets a scene in five simple words. And then, the image of the couple bending over the pregnancy test, at once gently comic and gently suspenseful--the whole thing comes together in a beautiful moment of sun-filled (forgive the pun) expectancy.

That said, I wonder if it may not be vulnerable to "over-reading." Specifically, I'm thinking of spoon and bowl, and what "empty" might be taken to imply. If you wanted to, you could read that image as a metaphor for the larger relationship . . . and then "empty" takes on a whole new set of connotations, skewing the reading of the poem powerfully in one direction. Of course, there's no way of saying what the test result will be, and in that sense, such a reading--a (presumably unwanted) negative result--is entirely plausible. Actually, if the poem is be productively "openended," the possibility is almost required--where would the suspense be otherwise? The thing about "empty," though, is that it seems to preordain the results--as soon as you read the word, and the poem, in that way (empty=barren), it suddenly becomes hard to read it in any other. In other words, it doesn't feel so openended after all--and the reading that we're left with isn't nearly so much fun. Frankly, I wanted to kick myself for seeing it.

Anyway, I wonder what you might try here in place of "spoon in empty bowl" that would get around this problem. I still think the breakfast table is the perfect set up, and I like the word spoon. But can you eliminate "empty"?

For some reason, I like grapefruit:

spoon and grapefruit bowl . . .

Just a thought. And of course, there's no saying what an overactive imagination might make of "grapefruit" here!

Steve C.

p.s. I love your tipsy snail, chewing through the wine labels. It reminds me of something I found in the saijiki just the other day under "bookworm": *

shimi no ato / "hisashi" no hi no ji / shi no ji kana (Takahama Kyoshi)
trace of a bookworm / of "hisashi," the letter "hi" / the letter "shi" kana

Almost untranslatable, but "forever after" for hisashi ("a long time") suggests a way:

what the bookworm left:
of "forever after"
pieces fore and aft

(Hmm . . . A little too clever perhaps.)

* Note to all: yep, "bookworm" (shimi) is in fact a season word in Japanese--for summer in this case. Sure, the little beggars are around all year, but summer is the traditional season for bringing your books out into the garden to dry them in the sun (another season word, "dog days drying" . . . doyouboshi) and so that is the time when one notices their handiwork. As for why you'd want to dry your books in the sun, well, you'd have to live through a Japanese rainy season . . . mildew everywhere! Yuck.

* * *

Editing back: Lee, we cross-posted. I claim the honour! I'm the first little turd to pop cheerfully up again this morning. Flush!

Steve, thank you very much for the sensitive and detailed reading of my haiku. and thank you especially for thinking it was worth spending your time with. In response, if i may . . .

i am very happy it strikes you as comic and suspenseful. and i DO forgive you for 'expectancy'. though you haven't asked for forgivenss on this, i also absolve you for the 'kick' later on--i am sure the ladies will know why.

yes, i suppose it is sensitive to overreading--this is one of the dangers of open-endedness. i don't, however, find your second reading objectionable. in fact, i believe other readings are possible. here's one: the pregnancy is completely unexpected and that the 'he' of the poem has been ambushed, after a fashion: he is at her place and she has given him something to eat (please note only one bowl)to settle him in for the news. so please choose which reading you would like--or perhaps even another.

at another level, i would hope that at some point the reader might find something significant about the shape of the spoon and bowl. as the matsuyama declaration stated a couple of years ago (i will try to find the link), a haiku is often a symbolic poem. might there be some symbolic level at which this visual image might be read? i hope so.

in any event, thank you very much for your reading and your thoughts. we are all here to become better poets, myself included!

Glad you like my pet snail--i would post a photo of it if i knew how. maybe i will email it to you and leave it to your expertise?

yes, the bookworm haiku is very fine--thanks for sharing it. but not so humorous if it is your book!

Hopefully there is room for two turds in this pool!

Lee