Eric Loman’s Window

an old man 
at an empty window, kissing
only he remembers who

© Eric Lohman (USA)

I think this senryu or haiku (though I would lean more towards a senryu) is multifaceted. It seems sad, funny, and delirious at the same time. This is due to the mystery that Eric leaves the reader with. If Eric simply told us who the old man is kissing, then the poem would have less impact on a reader.

One of the key words in this poem is “empty.” Maybe the old man is in a senior housing building and the mundaneness of the housing grounds can be seen. And such simplicity can drive some people crazy. The old man might be all alone–his family not visiting him regularly, and he is indulging in a memory of a kiss.

When we imagine him kissing the air, puckering up, we get a sense that the old man feels a mix of emotions. This mix of emotions sharply contrast the boring senior housing or empty house he lives in.

I like how Eric put a comma in the second line and made the third line come as a surprise. This is a key element in haiku: surprising the reader. After the surprise, the reader can get a moment of spiritual or philosophical insight.

In the case of this poem, I think it is the insight that the life of an old person is much more complex than we usually imagine. They might stop speaking, but memories rush through their minds, and they contemplate a life lived, with all its consequences and blessings.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Marina Balmaceda Paredes’ Breeze

spring breeze . . .
a new nun shivers
in the cloister

© Marina Balmaceda Paredes (Philippines)

We start with a kigo, or seasonal reference. A spring breeze could mean many things: how flourishing carries on, how a new beginning is prolonged, and so on. The poet uses an ellipsis (. . .) appropriately, signifying that something is continuing. Putting the haiku in italics shows the effect of the breeze.

From the second line, we have a new nun who is shivering. What is she shivering from? The spring breeze, excitement, nervousness, or something else? We are not told, but that mystery makes readers compelled to read further and to investigate the haiku.

In the third line, we have a cloister, which is a covered or open walk/sanctuary in a nunnery or monastery. So, it seems this haiku is portraying the first few moments a new nun has outside the actual nunnery. By having “a,” the poet leaves the experience open to other nuns as something universal.

Personally, “shivers” sounds spiritual to me. It could be the feeling of the holy spirit, and the spring breeze is also reminiscent of the holy spirit that is supposed to flow through holy people. The poet left just enough room for us to ponder it and to find something remarkable in its juxtaposition.

The sound of the haiku is important too. “new nun” has alliteration and sounds better than “novice nun.” The “i” sound in “spring” “shivers” and “cloisters” makes reading it more impacting.

An all around strong haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Bukusai Ashagawa’s Candle

by candle light
through a bedroom window
a pear blossoms

“JIKU” & “Up the Mtn #173.”
© Bukusai Ashagawa (Japan)

I enjoy how each step of the poem, each line being a step, reaffirms itself. The color, warmth, and comfort is unified through the eventual zooming in on the pear blossoms.

The reader is first taken to candle light, which is white and warm. Then we move onto the bedroom window, which is clear and could be said to be pure. Bedrooms are also said to be warm places in actuality and in the heart. Finally, we come to the pear blossoms, which are white and have a charming center color of light red or green. They also mark the spring season. But since it is most likely night, the blossoms are probably closed, which could either bring about the sense of melancholy or the realization of its beauty, even when closed.

So the wonder of this moment is that the poet had an insight that his reality was one in beauty and warmth. Through mundane objects, the poet has conveyed a sense of joy and comfort–a kind of bliss.

The “l” sound running through the poem gives it an eloquent tone. The “b” sound gives off a sense of comfort and maybe a sense of maternal warmth

The contrast of night and the whiteness and warmth of the objects makes the poem stark. I also think that the candle light and us transferring to the blossoms is in a sense showing the journey to enlightenment.

It is a classic haiku technique to zoom in on something from a distance. I think the poet did this wonderfully.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Additional Commentary by the Poet:

Although your interpretation of what I intended to be the primary meaning of “a pear blossoming” was really my secondary, my intentionally parallel and contradictory, meaning behind what I perceived as “a pear blossoming.” We spoke about this but I think this is how miscommunication can occur when we just text, email, or message one another in today’s society.

I primarily perceived “a pear blossoming” as an off handed yet hopefully subtle play on words. For me, the primary but not the exclusive meaning behind “a pear blossoms” signified a women’s pear shaped naked silhouetted figure, silhouetted behind a translucent curtain, which was illuminated by the soft warm light of a candle. This is why I preferred the “a” before the rest of “pear blossoms” instead of “pears blossom,” otherwise I would have done it the way you suggested. It was an actual memory from my childhood that I’d struggled for decades to speak of in a respectful yet sensual manner. There of course was no way you could have known all this without speaking with me or interviewing me.

Writing of her figure as “a pear blossoming” was for me a play on words. One which allowed me to give the poem a more respectable-acceptable tone, yet still broach an undeniably sexualized memory from my youth. So your interpretation was again spot on, but missing that personalized insight. I think we all interpret haiku idioms in such a way. Sometimes we interpret one version of what the author intended and at other times the other, or both. This is part of what defines the how and why of the art forms I refer to as English Haiku Idioms (EHI), like haiku, senryu, and tanka. Others have believed that this poem was only about a figurative woman, yet missed the literal, the actual pear.

I believe this divergence, this difference in how an author and then the reader, or literary critic defines and or interprets the multiplicity of meanings in the words of some haiku poetry is what has defined and characterized Japanese poetry forms like choka, waka, renga, hokku, senryu, tanka, and haiku for over a thousand years; going all the way back to the essential and cannonical works, the choka/waka of the Man’yoshu, Kokinshu, and those other earlier Imperial Anthologies and works of poets during the Heian,Edo, & Meji Periods. The EHI as I refer to them that are derived from them act as catalysts with which the reader can then take the literary baton if you will, from the writer. In EHI there is I believe no arbitrary right or wrong way of interpreting the haiku writer’s words. For in haiku and most of it’s other EHI forms, the reader is meant to act as a co-creator in the poets writing endeavor. As a/the co-creator of the poem, the reader continues to create, to create in their minds eye from where the writer left off. Thus the reader is prompted by the writers words, their last line to continue on in their minds eye where the writer left off–as if in a virtual renga writing party. It’s as if the writer creates the first three hokku/haiku lines, while the reader picks up the writers baton and writes the last two lines in their minds eye. This means the reader must come up with their own interpretation of the meaning that the writers first three lines held for them. Some haiku or hokku are very explicit while others are open ended or have ambiguous or multiple meanings. This employing of multiple meaning is what many writers of forms like waka/renga, hokku/haiku, & tanka writers have done since the arts inception. Sometimes a haiku’s meaning is crystal clear–specific–sometimes it is vague or ambiguous.

Marina Balmaceda Paredes’ Breath

16+-+1

I love the journey of this tanka. It shows how our actions, like a simple breath, can be integrated with the nature and return back to affect our lives later on. The photo adds to the atmosphere, and maybe makes the breeze a sea breeze.

Names are kind of like leaves. They grow out from a being and are reminders of who we are. The poet is probably speaking the name of a loved one and has an insight about how her breath is carried throughout the natural world and returns to her own place of residence, throwing up leaves in her window to make a curtain in order for her to sleep better. The last line comes as a surprise and makes one peaceful simultaneously.

The sound of the tanka is resonant. The “i” sound flows through it with “i” “it” “stir” and “curtaining.” This sound gives off a starkness. Also, “breeze” “leaves” and “curtaining” have a sort of internal rhyme that makes me feel the wafting of the breeze more.

I also enjoy how the poet sets the lines, like a breeze carrying on. Marina has worked on this tanka thoughtfully and with great intention.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Laughing Waters’ Spiderweb

doorstep
in her shoes
a spiderweb

© Laughing Waters (Italy)

Quite a multi layered haiku.What I mean by multi layered is that it can be read in at least two ways. First, we can read it as “doorstep in her shoes/spiderweb.” So, the shadow of the doorstep is in her shoe, kind of like it is wearing it, or the shadow of the place where everyone comes into the home is in the shoe, and that is being contrasted with a spiderweb, which inadvertently gets stuff stuck in it.

The second way we can read it is “doorstep/in her shoes a spiderweb.” Then, we have a mystery. Why do the shoes have a spiderweb in them? How long have the shoes been out there? Does that mean that something bad has happened to the owner of the shoes? A doorstep is a place where strangers and family alike come, and the person’s absence could signify death, and in joining the collective experience of the afterlife, being a part of nature, or being in heaven–whatever way you look at it.

Also, the image itself is interesting and captures one’s attention. In these moments, we can get lost in looking at what is happening in front of us and be in the moment, without thought.

The lack of punctuation makes this haiku more free and fun to read.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Martha Magenta’s Stars

SAVE_20160518_192817

Each word in this shahai (haiku with a photo) is significant and carries many dimensions. Though the haiku can be taken literally, as two lovers far away from each other, and them gazing at different night skies, the metaphorical quality of the haiku easily comes through.

The tone of the haiku is almost argumentative. It is quite personal, like the reader is listening in on a couple’s heated conversation. “hemisphere” can mean literally the hemisphere one is in, or the hemisphere of the loved one’s brain, or in a more abstract sense, the perspective of the loved one.

“gaze” is not a light word here. From the tone of the haiku, it seems be used in a negative manner.

What I got from this haiku is that the poet does not like how a certain loved one perceives or notices only the exterior or holistic points in the poet, while the loved one is missing the “stars,” the small things that create the larger picture of who she is.

And what a large entity we have in the photo, of which appears to be a panorama of a galaxy or two (or maybe infinity itself, because we are infinite, right?). I believe this shows the wideness the poet wished the loved one saw in her.

Though there seems to be more than enough pronouns, the haiku is so engaging that I didn’t even consider it a problem.

The wording is concise and it is well-phrased. I would move this to being a senryu rather than a haiku based on its tone. But ultimately, the feeling behind the poem is more important than the categorization.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Edwin Lomere’s Moonlight

cat

I enjoy the pacing of the tanka, the images “rock fence” “moonlight” “road” and of course the image of the cat! This is called shahai, which combines a haiku/tanka and an image. The image usually does not directly correspond to the haiku/tanka, but connects to it subtly. And Elomere did this wonderfully.

There is a connection between the rock fences and moonlight in color, and both seem timeless. Though both seem rustic, they are still majestic and stark. The connection between the two parts, however, seems more intuitive than intellectual.

The sense of sound in the tanka is wonderful, with connecting “r” sounds and “i” sounds, which separates the two parts even further. The last line comes as a surprise and makes us want to read the tanka a few times.

The ending image can mean many things. Moonlight in Zen philosophy can mean enlightenment or oneness or the self. Moonlight in other circumstances can mean sadness or contemplation.

The connection between the two parts or two statements is subtle and a bit of a puzzle. This is something that marks a fine tanka and/or haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Yumino Aoiro’s Wisteria

12+-+1

 

Firstly, I would like to note that this is a shahai, or a haiku accompanied by an image, or within an image. Yumino made an abstract representation of wisteria with the image, to my mind. But getting to the haiku itself, I like how each word is needed and works well. The first line begins simply with “wisteria-” which is a beautiful plant that blooms in late spring. So, the kigo, or seasonal reference points to it being about late spring. In late spring, animals are in a busy mood. And here comes the second line:

“the carpenter bee bounces”

And carpenter bees are certainly busy dudes in late spring. A bee bouncing is quite an interesting image. A nice alliteration is made with “bee bouncing.”

Bounces on what? “on a dusty parasol.” Why is the parasol dusty? Could be that the parasol has been left behind for some time, or that the dust is actually pollen (maybe wisteria pollen).

Yumino skillfully does not tell us, but shows how the pollen or dust lifts into the air from the bounce of the bee on the parasol, and how it is quite like the shape of wisteria blossoms. So, this haiku is a comparison haiku: it compares how wisteria pollen or dust looks in mid air when bounced off a parasol by a bee with how the wisteria blossom is shaped and hangs.

So, maybe Yumino is implying that wisteria blossom and pollen is one and the same. Whatever philosophical implications this means to you, you can introspect on it.

Note:

Check out how the third line is indented, giving us the space to imagine the bounce.

Also, take note of how Yumino used articles. “the” was used for the bee to give it is more importance, and “a” was used for the parasol to not steal the show from the bee.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Edwin Lomere’s Sunrise

2robins1

Words and image © Edwin Lomere (USA)

It is so simple, only one word per line, but it is pregnant with meaning and implication. The photo is taken after sunrise, and appears to be the aftermath of the sunrise. The photo shows two sides of a river or pond, which coincides with “two robins.” As with most shahai, or photo haiku, the photo does not directly reflect the haiku, but adds to it or creates more implications.

The red breast of the robin compliments the red of the sunrise. Also, the song of robin is at once majestic and cheerful, like a sunrise. But with the two robins, the haiku could be implying the sunrise has not happened yet, but the sunrise has been represented twice in the robin’s look and song.

Another reading of it is “two robins twice/the sunrise” which is saying that the sunrise is like seeing or hearing two robins twice. It brings in an aesthetic of fullness that is dear to haiku.

I think this is a spring haiku, not only from the view of the photo, but from the cheerful atmosphere created by the poet.

The sound of the haiku is quite pleasant, with the “o” sound running through “robins” and “two,” and “two” and “twice” having a play with the “t” sound. The “i” sound is in “twice” “robin” and “sunrise, all of which gives a musical quality to the haiku–maybe imitating the song of the robin.

I think the poet slowing the poem down to one word per line makes us not only appreciate each word more, but saves us from having it like:

two robins
twice
the sunrise

…which would afford us less chances to read it differently.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Lucky Triana’s Hat

a triangle hat
i search
my third side

16+-1

words and image
© Lucky Triana (Indonesia)

A witty and introspective haiku.

Wordplay in haiku has a long tradition, and when it was the hokku as a part of renga (a long linked poem), it used much more wordplay. So, you could say this haiku tapped into an ancient tradition.

We have a literal interpretation, but the metaphorical one is more interesting to me. Usually, people say they have two sides, but what about a third side? I think the haiku reminds people about who they are beyond the flesh. People often forget their spiritual, metaphysical sides, getting lost in material life.

It’s nice when a haiku can draw us towards our true selves.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)