Author: Nicholas Klacsanzky

Editor and poet from Seattle.

Alice Wanderer’s summer refuge

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiga, Shahai1 Comment

Haiku: Alice Wanderer (Australia)
Photography: Di Cousens (Australia)

Commentary

Refugees, seeking a safer place to live, demonstrate the strength and resilience of the human spirit. In this haiku, it is the scent of a refugee (or refugees) that we recognize in their absence. The word “perfume” seems to entail a strong scent that lingers. This haiku could also symbolize humility and frugality. With very few possessions, it seems refugees don’t leave many (if any) material objects behind. This makes me think: on our brief human journey of a lifetime, what are we leaving behind? What do we want to leave behind?

In turn, it seems the presence of a kind and compassionate human being is a gift that stretches far beyond material wealth. In the end, physically, we are all visitors on this Earth. The steps in the photo could be a symbol of human striving or steps in human growth/evolution. I think the long journey of refugees both spiritually and physically can redefine what truly is home. 

— Jacob D. Salzer

First, I would like to say that I enjoy the shading and light in the photograph. Also, the textures in the wall and steps make it an intriguing capture. The font for the haiku is appropriate for the subject matter and matches the atmosphere of the photograph.

The seasonal reference (kigo) is in the first line with “summer refuge.” We can guess that the summers where this haiku takes place are exceptionally hot. It might even be in a desert. The poet and photographer being both from Australia can make readers think it might be in the Australian outback. This photograph could indeed be a summer refuge made by Australian Aboriginals to combat the outback heat. In this context, the last line referencing possible ancestors could gain more meaning.

There is no punctuation in the haiku (kireji), but there is a clear delineation of the two parts of the poem by a grammatical shift from the first and second lines.

How the two parts of the haiku combine and interact (toriawase) is pleasant in its melancholy. With summer being a happy and chill time, in this space of sanctuary, there are the remnants of ancestors. Whether this is a joyous or sad happening is up to the reader. “Perfume” is used interestingly in this haiku, as the poet could have easily written “scent.” “Perfume” is a much more endearing word that could have multiple meanings. But overall, this haiku could have an intermixing of emotions or be about a silent celebration of ancestors still with us.

Looking at how the lines are laid out, the pacing approximates the Japanese traditional rhythm of short/long/short.

The diction is in line with haiku principles of simplicity and brevity. It is also important that the poet left space for the reader to ponder through her choice of words.

In terms of sound, the letter “r” is especially important. With four instances and in every line, “r” gives a hard edge to the haiku that connects to the walls and steps in the photo.

Ultimately, this photo haiku (shahai) expresses inexplicable emotions with grace. Though the image and haiku might be endemic to Australia, it is written in a universal way.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky


Jacob D. Salzer’s long journey

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

a long journey . . .
in mother’s clothing
the scent of snow

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)
(published in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 7:1, Autumn/Winter 2023)

Commentary by the poet

In this haiku, I primarily wanted to honor my mother and her long Earth journey (and her soul’s journey, if readers are open-minded to past lives and reincarnation). I am also writing about my mother going for a long walk in the snow and carrying the “outside” into the house. The scent of snow in her coat lingers. I’m also recognizing the long journey of falling snow, as snow falls from miles above us to reach the Earth. I hope this haiku can act as a portal for the reader to reflect on their own mother and her unique journey.

Commentary by the other editors

This haiku sounds simple but carries many stories of life’s journey. A long journey describes a period that may last more than a year or a lifetime. But, it signifies the essence of a trip that has ups and downs, and deep personal experiences. The ellipses stop us for a while and let us ponder the various aspects or types of journeys. I see it as a life’s journey that has myriad phases and stages where the person continuously passes through experiences within the self and with other people.

The second line tells us about the traveller but it still doesn’t show whether she is the one who carries the clothing or is having a long journey. It may have two interpretations. One is that she passes through rigorous experiences i.e. departure, separation, illness, loneliness, etc. The second interpretation would be that someone close to her carries her clothes as a possession.

The last line depicts deep feelings, as the smell of snow can mean something went as cold as snow and leaves painful memories. Another aspect can be the smell of a person that comes from the clothes and the poet may take it as the smell of snow, akin to the lingering memories of a loved one. In both cases, the person remains discreet in expressing their feelings and tries to relate those emotions with the scent of snow, which does not make a sound.

— Hifsa Ashraf

Thinking about the seasonal reference in this haiku, “the scent of snow” is clearly directed at winter. However, a residue of snow could mean that winter has passed and that spring has come. So, the poet could be reexperiencing winter in the time of spring. This could symbolize how the poet feels about his mother’s life or even his life reflected by the one that brought him existence.

The two parts of the haiku combine well in that duration is present in each section. “Long” and “scent” both work to illustrate time passing by. “Journey” relates well to the implied cycle of seasons. With our phases as personalities, they can be representative of seasons—though one season can carry remnants of another season in it. The poet could be referring to how memory sticks to our personalities and in direct connection to his mother, it could mean that his mother has memories “too cold” to burn away.

With the punctuation, which delineates the two-part structure of the haiku, the ellipsis illustrates the duration of the journey. It also makes certain that the reader does not inadvertently read the second line as flowing from the first line.

The pacing emulates the traditional rhythm of Japanese haiku without the restriction of the syllabic count, which is often cited as an erroneous method of matching the format of Japanese haiku. The short/long/short practice is closer to the original haiku rhythm.

Looking at the sound, the letter that jumps out at the reader is “o.” Strewn throughout the poem, it gives a sense of elongation with the long syllables. In my opinion, it also heightens the emotional resonance of the subject of the haiku.

The way human life intermixes with nature in this haiku makes it special. It creates pathos and perhaps something verging on the surreal. A relatable, yet transcendent haiku.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Winter Scene by Louis Remy Mignot, 1856

Michael Dudley’s prized canary

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku4 Comments

lockdown raised
  at sunrise he releases
       his prized canary

— Michael Dudley (Canada)
(27th Kusamakura International Haiku Contest, Second Prize)

Commentary

I appreciate the notion of freedom and non-attachment in this haiku. I also appreciate the shift in perspective from a confined space to the limitless sky. What was once highly valued and clung to is now released. It seems giving space is a gift in itself, and I admire how our attention shifts from what is seen to what is unseen in this poem. In turn, maybe the very notion of “mine” is released with the canary, as this beautiful bird returns to their true home outside of human civilization. Perhaps by releasing the sense of “me” and “mine,” we can rediscover our spiritual home as well. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

This haiku in a cascading style makes me think about its formation before I interpret it. It seems the person wants to convey a specific message through this style that can be read both horizontally and somehow vertically. The cascading style stops us so that we read the poem step by step before reaching a conclusion. I see it as if something is going down or ending nowhere.

Lockdown raised but what? It could be anxiety, uncertainty, frustration, or something that has a great impact on the person’s life that is being referenced. The past tense at the end of line one stresses the grave effects of the tense situation due to the lockdown. The sudden shift to the present in line two shows how smoothly the person has gotten over what he has been going through (maybe for a long time). 

The sunrise brings hope and warmth to one’s thoughts and feelings. We can feel the way the sunrise provides a sense of relief or healing. I see it as if the person is liberated after having a change in thoughts or has detached himself from what he may hold dear. This line stands alone, where one can try to guess what the whole story is.

The prized canary may have an association with the person’s life in terms of honour, achievement, memorable event, etc. But, it also symbolizes a hope for the future where the person in question has stepped over the barrier of attachment and possession. If it is a pet bird, then releasing it at the time of a lockdown is the realization of freedom, which often comes through rigorous life experiences. 

— Hifsa Ashraf

If we try to figure out the season this haiku is placed in, it is not so easy. However, if I had to pick one, it would be spring. Not only is it a season with less disease (“lockdown raised”), but it is also the time when canaries are more active. Spring, in addition, symbolizes a new life—corresponding well with “sunrise” and “releases.”

The two parts of the haiku can be delineated from the grammatical pause after the first line, or even after “at sunrise.” So, punctuation is not quite needed.

The association between the words “raised” and “releases” is quite deliberate, I feel. Furthermore, the color of the sunrise and the canary are most likely similar, if not yellow. Both the canary and the sunrise are not only colorful but also bring hope and pack a punch though one lasts a short time (sunrise) and one is small (the canary).

The spacing of the lines brings about a sense of release and perhaps steps to that letting go. However, the lines still approximate the traditional rhythm of haiku in Japanese in terms of syllables with a short first line, a longer second line, and a shorter last line.

In terms of sound, the haiku prominently features the letter “i” in “raised,” “sunrise,” and “prized.” Through this sound, it creates a starker mood for the haiku and points to the importance of the canary.

With a unique format, the implication of color, a keen sense of sound, and relatable kindness, this haiku deserves study and ponderance.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

“The illustrated book of canaries and cage-birds, British and foreign” (1878) Public Domain