Sunset . . .
the scarecrow stretches
across the field

© Leroy Kanterman (USA) (1923-2015)

The day is done, the farmer’s work is finished and he goes home for a well-earned rest! As the sun goes down, it brings with it long shadows and the poet has observed the scarecrow’s shadow lengthening across the field almost like the scarecrow itself is resting after a hard day’s work. “Scarecrow” is an autumn kigo, therefore the field may have been harvested, leaving it flat, which would also extend shadows….

The alliteration of ‘s’ sounds almost say ‘shush’ the scarecrow is resting….
Having the capital “S” on sunset may be a trait of the author to capitalize the first letter or it might be the poet’s way of portraying the influencing ‘power’ within the haiku… sunset itself.

A wonderful haiku.

– Brendon Kent (UK)

Ah, yes. The scarecrow stretches at sunset. When I read this, I see a harvested field, perhaps with stubble of whatever crop was grown on it, and the long shadow of the scarecrow cast upon it. The field is flat, nothing high left on it, save for the scarecrow. And there are at least a couple of ways to view this scene, looking into the sun with the scarecrow in the distance, a black silhouette with its equally-black shadow stretching toward the viewer, or perhaps the viewer is somewhere behind the scarecrow, off to the side a bit, and the scarecrow’s shadow stretches away from him or her, the viewer, the speaker of the piece. I think it must be autumn when shadows are longer throughout the day, but they feel especially long as the sun sets on a clear afternoon/evening, and a chill begins to descend on the scene. But, hey, Leroy Kanterman said all of this, and more, in a mere seven words. A pretty good ‘ku.

– Dana Grover (USA)

I can see the shadow of the scarecrow stretching out over the field as the sun goes down, and perhaps the farmer is also stretching out on the veranda enjoying a cool beer after a hard day’s work.

I like the sibilance of the ‘s’ sounds, like an evening hush. A beautiful haiku

– Martha Magenta (UK)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

hummingbird…
my thoughts come
and go

(1st place in the 21st Indian Kukai)

© Tiffany Shaw-Diaz (USA)

The hummingbird symbolizes the enjoyment of life and lightness of being. Thoughts here may indicate changes in mood. The swift movement of this bird can also be related to the thought process. It seems the person is indecisive or restless due to these thoughts.

– Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

This lovely haiku could mean many things to many readers. The hummingbird’s wings move in the pattern of an infinity symbol—suggesting eternity, and continuity. The hummingbird totem indicates the sweet nectar within, and so it has a deep mystical quality. In meditation, our thoughts come and go, in fact, meditation is in part a process of letting go of thoughts that keep coming, not to fight them or hold on to them, simply letting them go. So, there seems to be nothing negative implied here—it’s all positive. It’s about inner growth, transcendence, and finding the heaven within us.

– Martha Magenta (UK)

It’s about finding one’s centre in the midst of impermanence.

– Malintha Perera (Sri Lanka)

one
word
nailedit

– Ronald Kleiman (USA)

I’m sitting here with my eyes closed (not while I am typing this) and can see in my mind’s eye the flitting and diving of the hummingbirds that visit my yard, often flying directly in front of my face and hovering, as if asking “what are you doing here?” Then flying off somewhere so quickly it is hard to see them go. Kind of like my thoughts. I’m hearing something being said which makes me think of something else, and off goes my mind, flitting and diving, missing what else is being said. Thoughts, coming and going, like a hummingbird, are what makes us alive, what makes life worth living.

This is a wonderful haiku.

– Dana Grover (USA)

The interesting thing to me here isn’t that thoughts come and go, but how much they move when they are seemingly in place. A hummingbird, even when hovering, is a very busy, restless, bird. As an unsuccessful meditator, I can relate to this poem. Even in moments of apparent stillness, my mind is unable to rest.

– Dave Read (Canada)

Since the content has been commented on extensively, I will touch upon the sound and rhythm of the haiku.

The most prominent letters in the poem is “m” in “hummingbird” and “my,” and “o” in “thoughts,” “come,” and “go.” The “m” sound mimics the flapping of the hummingbird’s wings, and the “o” sound provides a feeling of leaving or passing, which the last two lines discuss.

The rhythm of the haiku is meditative, especially with the ellipsis. From the rhythm of the haiku, you can feel the state of meditation the writer was in.

This haiku is like a Zen koan without the riddle, in that it puts you in a state of pure awareness without thought.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Freezing wind
the dancing clothes
stiffen into people

Frogpond, 31:1, 2008

© Ken Jones (1930 – 2015) (UK)

When love and kindness is not returned, it takes the joy away from people.

– Malintha Perera (Sri Lanka)

This reminds me of when I was a youth living in a really cold part of the world. Mom would do the washing, hang the clothes outdoors (in winter), they would freeze stiff, and when they were brought in, she would stand them by the stove to unfreeze. Seems perfectly normal to me.

– Dana Grover (USA)

If I was writing it, I’d put “stiffen” at the end of line two.

– Eric Lohman (USA)

Straight away, you are transported into a bleak picture… freezing wind, yet the next line ‘the dancing clothes’ seems almost joyous, a festive celebration. Then the reality strikes… ‘stiffen into people’.

This haiku has joy and sadness, a mixture of emotions.

On first reading, we have a happy yet harsh scene… that moment when even the festivities become too cold to enjoy fully.

Maybe the author has seen this ‘dancing clothes’ from a distance yet through the ‘freezing wind’ and as the author nears the scene, it becomes apparent they are only actually people… a far-to-near focus that feels quite disappointing.
Most of us have experienced extreme cold at some point and can relate to the ‘stiff clothes’ syndrome!… but also, as we get older, our bones feel like they are doing the same!

Is it just the clothes stiffening? Possibly attitudes are ‘stiffening’ too as the occasion becomes lost in a freezing wind!

I believe this haiku is showing us that while dancing and fun is being had by all with everyone joining in and interacting, once it is too cold (possibly metaphorically) everyone becomes how they were before… no interactions, everyone going about their separate lives oblivious to each other.

– Brendon Kent (UK)

I can relate to this happening to clothes on a line and to people as they get older. I remember my grandma hanging washing on the line, and how the clothes would freeze and become stiff as boards. People also become stiff with age, both physically and mentally, losing the joy and flexibility of youth.

– Martha Magenta (UK)

Well, a really nice idea—if I wrote it, I would have made it shorter:

freezy wind
dancing clothes
stiffen people

– Hannes Froehlich (Germany)

The content and its message has been sufficiently touched upon, so I would like to mention the sound and rhythm of the haiku. To me, the strongest sound in the haiku comes from the letter “i” in “freezing,” “wind,” “dancing,” “stiffen,” and “into.” It seems to give the sense of cold that the haiku portrays. Also, the significant sound of “z” of “ff” makes a palpable impact on the reader. The word “stiffen” hits the reader hard, and makes for a solemn rhythm in the last line, which adds to the mood of the haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Ken Jones was not only a haiku poet, contributing regularly to UK haiku magazines and represented in British and American anthologies. He also played an important part in pioneering the western development to the haibun—an ancient Japanese prose poetry genre.

Ken Jones was until 2013 one of three editors of the print journal, Contemporary Haibun, and the online journal Contemporary Haibun Online. For his contribution to Pilgrim Foxes: Haiku and Haiku Prose, co-authored with Jim Norton and Sean O’Connor, Ken was awarded the Sasakawa Prize for Original Contributions in the Field of Haikai. He resided in Ceredigion, Wales with his Irish wife, Noragh. (The Living Haiku Anthology)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.