Brendon Kent’s Clouds

2016 - 1

Words and image © Brendon Kent (UK)

For the context of this haiga, or haiku and art combined, I should tell who Jane Reichhold was.

Jane Reichhold was a popular and key member of the haiku community. She was the editor of Lynx journal of haiku, tanka, and renga, and the owner of the site Aha Poetry, where a great amount of reading materials on haiku and related forms are held online. She wrote many famous books on haiku, such as Basho: The Complete Haiku, Writing and Enjoying Haiku: A Hands-on Guide, A Dictionary of Haiku, and many more influential books. She also was the recipient of the Museum of Haiku Literature Award [Tokyo] twice and the Merit Book Award twice.

It was announced that she passed away on August 5th, 2016. Many tribute haiku and articles were written for her, as she trained and influenced so many people through her essays and poetry. This haiku by Brendon Kent is a fine example of a tribute haiku for Jane.

This haiku has a clear juxtaposition and is written in a more traditional style, which I think is a prudent choice for the tone of a tribute. The poet is comparing drifting clouds to traveling from one dream to another. This juxtaposition is complemented by the image of the slightly blurred dragonfly in flight. In haiga, the image and text usually are not directly connected, but hint at each other. Brendon has done a superb job making this connection indirectly, creating a defined mood.

The use of the ellipsis shows a carrying on and delineates the two parts clearly. I think without the ellipsis, the meaning could change, and maybe Brendon wanted a more focused reading of his haiku.

I don’t know why exactly, but I feel emotional reading this haiku. It looks straightforward, but there is a definite emotion behind the words. Maybe it is the context or the solemnity with which the pacing of lines are written, but it charges me with emotion and maybe a sense of awe.

Let’s great back to the clouds. Clouds are high in the heavens, as you can say, and are an apt metaphor for Jane. She was a selfless person and committed to write poetry that uplifted people. The drifting, I believe, is a metaphor for passing into another life. The wind making the clouds drift could be a symbol for the universal spirit that is often expressed as wind in spiritual doctrines. Maybe the cloud is a symbol for Jane in the afterlife, soon to rain and bring about a new life of her own in a distant place.

The dream could be the illusion of life. Most spiritual traditions agree that we are not this body, emotions, or mind, but a pure spirit. It seems these lines are a kind of reassurance and a kind of detachment as well. This process of life and death are only transitions of the mundane, and maybe we all wake up to our spirit in between (though some say it is better to realize the spirit while living).

Or, the poet could be simply stating what happened to him. Maybe he took a nap on a forest walk, or on his backyard, and woke up to seeing drifting clouds after experiencing transitions to and from different dreams.

Haiku are usually objective reporting of what is happening, but can be seen as metaphors and symbols for much more. And knowing Brendon Kent’s work, he enjoys creating layers of meaning in his work, so it is probable that he wanted to portray both the spiritual and mundane.

On the level of sound, the “o” sound in “clouds,” “from,” “one,” “to,” and “another” create a wispy feeling for the reader, akin to clouds. It is great when the reading of a poem accurately reflects its content. The words without”o” are “drifting” and “dream,” which have alliteration and are both key words in the context of this haiku. Leaving these words as the only ones without an “o” sound makes them stand out more, which draws our attention to them more.

Though many fine tributes for Jane Reichhold have been written since her passing, this is one of the finest I have read. Wherever Jane may be now, I hope she is reading this tribute, and many others.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

 

 

 

 

Eva Limbach’s Gods

all those Gods
I lost and found
dandelion fluff

Sonic Boom Journal, 2016
© Eva Limbach (Germany)

The first thing that struck me about this haiku was the capitalization of “Gods” instead of “gods.” Grammatically, “gods” is preferred in most cases, but in this haiku, I believe the author is giving respect to each god she has encountered, loved, and may have freed herself of.

What also made me turn my head was the striking juxtaposition between gods and dandelion fluff. So much can be implied:

1) All gods are same, essentially.

2) All gods share the same purpose.

3) Which god we choose to worship may not be that important after all.

4) Like dandelion fluff, gods drift in and out favor.

… and maybe much more.

Another part of the haiku that got me interested in it is the use of “I’ instead of just keeping it as “all those gods/lost and found.” Bringing in a personal side to the issue adds weight, and allows readers to identify with the experience of the haiku, rather than see it purely as something philosophical or historical.

A strong part of this haiku is its sound. The “o” sound flows through “those,” “Gods,” “lost,” “found,” and “dandelion.” I believe this sound aims for euphony, or a harmonious and beautiful connection of sound. This could be another way the haiku shows how gods are one.

Maybe in our modern times, gods have become like dandelion fluff: revered and memorable, but somehow not worth much in these times of technological and scientific progress. Or maybe gods are numerous but one, and in these times of fast-paced developments in human progress, we have so many resources and chances to get connected with one of them. There is no right answer, but this haiku for sure makes us introspect on the state of religion and what we ourselves have experienced on our own spiritual journeys.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Heike Gewi’s Children

04.08.16 - 1

Words and art © Heike Gewi

With four words, one can find at least four interpretations within the poem. That is one of the magical things about poetry: the line acts as a device for delivering additional meaning.

Interpretation 1: The author is missing her children 24/7.

Interpretation 2: The author’s kids have been missing 24/7.

Interpretation 3: 24/7, the kids are missing something.

Interpretation 4: Time (24/7) is absent, and that is juxtaposed with the kids.

Which interpretation should we take? What is the tone of the haiku with so many interpretations? Those are questions that can’t be answered, but shine a light on how haiku operates.

Through simplicity and implication, authors make readers dive into their own imagination to make up a third part out of the two parts of the haiku that juxtapose each other.

The art accompanying the words show the times of the day in two different locations. The emptiness in each section and the somber lines suggest melancholy.

The “i” sound in “missing” and “kids” gives a sharpness to the reading of it, which makes the apparent emergency more alarming.

The last two lines are of equal length and appear to be stacked on top of each other, which gives the impression to the reader that the poem has more fullness to it than stated in terms of length and exudes a sense of power when you see it.

Though there is no season specifically referenced, autumn comes to mind with “missing” and the mood of the art. But haiku do not need to have seasonal references to be haiku. As long as haiku aesthetics are on display, haiku are haiku. This haiku showcases an aesthetic of loneliness, but maybe not the element of sabi, which is a Japanese aesthetic of loneliness that gives solace to a sorrowful life. However, the potency of the inherent aesthetic is felt poignantly, no matter what interpretation you take.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)