Eva Limbach’s Gods

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

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

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiga2 Comments

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)

 

 

Jacob Salzer’s Hook

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment
forgetting my name
the hook disappears
beneath the water

 
A Hundred Gourds 9/20/15
 
© Jacob Salzer (USA)
 
This haiku is about being immersed in something so completely, that the mind becomes quiet. In this haiku, it was an experience I had fishing with a family friend and my sister. As I fished with him and my sister, my own name disappeared, along with the hook beneath the water.
 
Sometimes, it seems our analytical minds get in the way of experiencing life itself. Analysis and describing things has its place, but it seems we can also get paralysis by analysis. This haiku is about letting go of describing life sometimes, and allowing ourselves to simply be and to experience something completely, without any words, judgments, or concepts. 
 
It seems we are mentally conditioned to continuously think and act in certain ways. But is our true identity limited to a transient mental concept? Is our own name as permanent as it seems? Who are we without our names? To experience the continuous now without thought (even for a moment) allows us to experience the beauty of being, and thereby allows us to dis-identify with all thoughts. 
 
Perhaps this is why some people enjoy extreme sports like rock climbing; the activity is so intense that it requires your complete attention. You can’t be thinking about other things, otherwise, one wrong move could result in serious injury or even death. 
 
Fortunately, we don’t have to be rock climbers to quiet the mind. Any activity, when done fully, is a key to unlock moments of silence, and the great doorways of the unknown.
 
– Jacob Salzer (USA)