last day of autumn:
and still the sunset lingers
in a one-way street.

© Eric W. Amann (Canada) (1934 – 2016)
(Modern Haiku 1:1, 6)

Before I comment on this haiku, let’s learn a bit about Eric W. Amann. One of the most influential figures in the formative years of the haiku movement in Canada was Toronto medical doctor and poet Eric Amann. He was born in Munich in 1934. In 1952, Eric and his family emigrated to Chester, Pennsylvania. In 1953, Eric was drafted for the Korean War and escaped to Winnipeg where he stayed with family friends from Munich. He earned his medical degree in 1961.

As many other poets in the 1960s, Amann’s interest in haiku was sparked by the six volumes written by R.H. Blyth. After reading and writing haiku for several years, Eric Amann edited and published the first Canadian haiku magazine Haiku from 1967-1970. Under Amann’s editorship, Haiku rapidly became one of the most influential North American periodicals, publishing experimental as well as classical work. After a hiatus of seven years, during which he engaged in other kinds of writing, in 1977 Amann returned to haiku with a new magazine Cicada (from 1977-1982) which immediately achieved a similar status. The same year, Eric Amann, Betty Drevniok, and George Swede founded the Haiku Society of Canada, which later in 1985 was renamed Haiku Canada. Eric served as its first president during 1977-79. In 1979, Eric Amann also published one issue of konkret [a journey into the concrete and visual].

In the preface to the 1986 edition of The Haiku Anthology, Cor van den Heuvel wrote that “Haiku and Cicada [were] perhaps English language haiku’s most influential magazines [and that they] are still unsurpassed for excellence in both content and design, though both have ceased publication.”

Eric W. Amann sadly passed away in July 2016 and left a huge void in the international haiku community.

While writing about the significant achievement of one of the pioneers of English-language haiku, Richard Stevenson states: “For Eric Amann, the ideal is to capture the ‘ah experience’ or ‘a mood of serene calm and beauty.’ The form may vary from the traditional three-line, 5-7-5 syllable count to the one-line portrait; it may even be stretched to include the “mutational possibilities” of senryu, vertical, visual, and sound haiku.” – (Richard Stevenson in Canadian Literature, Spring 1985) [adapted from The Living Haiku Anthology]

Commentary

First, I want to say that for a reason I can’t explain, I got into a deep meditative state while reading this haiku and this is the main reason I selected this haiku. Just imagining the imagery presented in the haiku brought me to a change in consciousness. That is what a real haiku, or any poem, should do. As Emily Dickinson said, “If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” And that is exactly what I felt while reading this haiku.

It is a common haiku aesthetic to show the continuity of something. But the way Amann has presented this aesthetic is unique. The one-way street makes us, as readers, give our full attention to the sunset, and signifies that autumn may in fact be present in every season.

The sunset itself is a representation of autumn: though it is a day dying, it shows death in a beautiful way by showcasing the rich colors of life. With the imagery of the sunset lingering in a one-way street, the author must have felt that this is all of autumn being shown, or that autumn was giving its last display as a kind of a last expenditure. In a sense, we can say autumn did not give up being itself to the very end, and as mentioned before, maybe this is an indication that autumn never truly fades throughout the seasons (especially since we can see sunsets each day of the year).

The one-way street can signify many things. It could mean all seasons are all the same, the way of life is singular, or that autumn is only itself, in its melancholy glory… and many more interpretations are possible. However, I think the best thing to do is to read this haiku as it is and let the imagery soak in your mind and you will get the real experience of this haiku.

The “s” letter features strongly in the haiku, reflecting the sound of leaves rustling. The lines are paced in the classical way for English haiku: short line-longer line-short line. Though the punctuation being used, such as the colon and period, might seem strange to readers now, it was regularly used at the time this was written. But there is nothing wrong with the use of the colon and period, as kireji (cutting words, or punctuation in English) was often used at the end of haiku in Japanese and colons are still in use in English haiku.

To read more haiku by Eric W. Amann, visit: http://terebess.hu/english/haiku/amann.html

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

 

 

abandoned village
her yellow raincoat jumps
in and out of silence

© Ken Sawitri (Indonesia)
Chrysanthemum 18, October 2015

This haiku brings us vivid imagery and mystery. The first line by itself is a powerful image that automatically leaves us wondering why the village was abandoned. The image of “her yellow raincoat jumps” adds another layer of mystery as to who “her” is in the haiku. Focusing on line two, I imagine a small raincoat rising and falling on the waves of a tsunami. The last line brings yet another layer of mystery and the dimension of sound. We don’t know what the other sounds are against the background of silence: perhaps only spurts of rain, the sound of waves, or perhaps distant explosions, or gusts of wind (or a combination of all of these). There is a haunting quality to this haiku. Each word supports the total effect, using descriptive imagery while the meaning, emotion(s), and interpretation is left to the reader. An excellent haiku.

– Jacob Salzer

To add to what Jacob has written, I enjoy the Zen in the state of probable chaos or despair. The yellow jacket and paying attention to it brings us into the moment. I like how this haiku shows detachment and the power of it.

But on the other hand, the image of the yellow raincoat can be quite emotional. It maybe is all that is left of her, the subject of the haiku, acting alive somewhat by jumping, either on wind, waves, or something else. It might make the witness of it cry and feel the true loss of the girl or woman who has either been lost or has died.

In terms of sound, the “i” sound features prominently, making the reading of it more stark and the intenseness of the situation more palpable. The “l” sound also gives a hand in creating a solemn mood.

The pacing of the words and the lines works well to convey the somber atmosphere. The more we as a readers take in this haiku, the more concern we have for the subject of it. I think ultimately this haiku opens our hearts and makes us concerned about the wellbeing of others, even strangers.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

after our argument
fireflies
on the way home

© Olivier Schopfer (Switzerland)

(Polish International Haiku Competition 2014, commended haiku, & Under the Basho : Personal Best 2015)

The first line brings about something common in our lives: arguments. But you know what they say: we fight with the ones we love. Anyways, if haiku are grounded in everyday experiences, it is a plus. One of the worst things a haiku writer can do is be too abstract, grand, or flowery.

I like how the second line stands on its own with one word. Also, the format makes it even more stark and emphasized, being a short line between two longer lines. It also creates a pivot to the third line, and we as readers expect a surprise.

With the third line, I get a visual of a couple walking down an evening street and fireflies surrounding them. The couple is not saying a word, as they are bitter after their argument. However, the fireflies provide either a comforting light, a romantic atmosphere, or an extra light for each partner to look at each other after their argument and maybe assess their state. Either way you look at it, the fireflies, whether they know it or not, are showing a sign of compassion. It is a paradox: though animals may not know they are harbingers of compassion, sincerity, and love, they often are. They frequently are mirrors for ourselves, so that we look at life with a renewed sense of positivity.

The openness of interpretation with the presence of fireflies I think is the key to this haiku. It gives so much to the imagery and stories readers could create in their minds. It sets several moods at the same time, making this a diverse haiku, despite it seeming simple at first glance.

In terms of sound, it seems “a” features the strongest in “after,” “argument,” and “way.” You can say the “a” is bright like the fireflies when we recite the haiku out loud and adds to the seemingly positive mood of the haiku, despite its first line.

Olivier used the right amount of words and right pacing of the lines to create an emotional, stark haiku. I think “fireflies” are an appropriate seasonal reference (for all seasons) for a haiku that has all types of emotions resonating within it.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)