Christina Sng’s Summer Comfort

summer comfort
the arthritic cat
basks in the sunlight

Honourable Mention, Neo-classical Haiku, World Haiku Review (June 2016, World)

© Christina Sng (Singapore)

This haiku, to my mind, is double-sided. It may seem like it is a simply poem about an arthritic cat enjoying a moment away from pain, but therein lies the other side. Even as the cat is enjoying its moment of peace, its pain and existence of suffering will come back momentarily or the cat is already feeling pain, but only has a peek at peace. That serenity seems bittersweet: intermixed with the joy is the mooring of pain that the cat feels continuously.

This applies to human beings as well, and it is typical in haiku to show compassion to animals and nature in general so we can reflect on ourselves. Through our compassion for the cat, we may realize that people around us feel the same, living moment by moment in pain with glimpses of peace.

The first two lines make for a strong juxtaposition. “Comfort” and “arthritic” are not two words we usually associate together. But that is what haiku does: brings together dissonant parts of life and makes us see the range that life brings, in all its contradictions. But in this haiku, and many others, the end result is the heart: through the contradiction, the melancholy, we feel compassion and care for the cat–and hopefully in turn, we care for all living beings and for ourselves.

The last line gives the impression that the cat is relaxing for a while with “basks.” But who is to know if the cat is feeling pain, if it is trying escape from pain, or in fact the cat has passed away and is simply laying in the sunlight now–a kind of heavenly light, but in a direct sense.

This haiku is made up of hints, and leads the reader to many avenues of the mind. However, this haiku has a celebratory mood, though tinged with a sense of sadness. The use of “the” in the last line gives the light more prominence and it would not be far-fetched that the cat has passed away and or the cat is in its final moments. It is not so common in haiku to have two “the” as we like to give focus to one thing. But here the cat and the sunlight has equal importance, which hints that the cat and the sunlight are a part of a larger process that we need to pay attention to.

Notice how each line ends with a definitive “t.” The strength of the sound of the “t” should not be underestimated. It is the power behind words such as “might,” “smite,” and “sight.” It is a sharp sounding letter appropriate for a sharp contrast and look into existence. Also, “cat” and “comfort,” besides the alliteration, brings in a sense of keenness.

In haiku, the last line is usually short. However, in light of the pain and possible death, the poet judiciously uses a longer line to show importance and present a tribute.

As a former cat owner, I know how hard it is to see a beloved pet suffer and die. I believe this haiku brought out the appropriate emotion without being overt, using evocative imagery instead.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Mark Meyer’s Pond

evening stillness
bells of Kōfuku-ji
rippling the pond

© Mark Meyer (USA)

This haiku definitely has a classical feel to it: temple bells, a pond, and stillness. Yet, Meyer made something new with classical elements in mind.

Knowing what “Kofuku-ji” is intrinsic to feeling what the haiku is about. Kofuku-ji used to be the family temple of the Fujiwara, the most powerful family clan during much of the Nara and Heian periods. The temple was established in Nara at the same time as the capital in 710. At the height of Fujiwara power, the temple consisted of over 150 buildings.

In addition, Meyer noted that the complex has a lot of legends associated with it. This information gives us a sense that there might be something mystical in the haiku. How nature and human culture interact is often remarkable, and I believe this haiku is showing us a window into this phenomenon.

The pond is still. The bell rings from the ancient temple and the vibrations from its sound reverberates on the water, creating ripples. The ancient temple may not be as it used to be, but it is still creating the same effect on the waters around it. This brings about the haiku aesthetic of continuance despite a death, or against all odds.

Also, there is something supernatural in nature itself that allows us to draw inspiration from it. By noticing the ripples on the pond from the bells, I get a sense of the supernatural, especially with the temple being associated with many legends.

I like how the dash is used to illustrate just how silent the moment was. I also enjoy the “l” sound with “stillness,” “bells,” and “rippling.” The circular sound of “l” brings the ripples to mind.

An elegant haiku that brings a sense of peace and remembrance.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

 

Michael Dylan Welch’s Scattered Petals

scattered petals . . .
the thud of my books
in the book drop

© Michael Dylan Welch (USA)

The first line most likely refers to late spring, when the petals on blossoms regularly fly off, though some petals scatter in early spring as well. Instead of “scattering” we have “scattered,” which denotes that we are seeing the petals after they have already spun through the wind and landed in a formation. The kireji or “cutting word” as the ellipsis works well to show the continuous motion of the petals. Though Welch does not specify which petals, I imagine them to be pink.

Then we have an abrupt action: the thud of books. It is important to note the use of “my.” It could mean the books the author wrote himself or simply the books he is returning to a library. The use of “my ” gives the books more weight, no pun intended.

In the third line, we get to know that the thud of books is coming from a book drop, which are located at libraries.

Though books and petals have much different physical weights and the actions described in both parts seem to be different, they have a similarity: transience and a circular nature. Through seasons, petals come and go, illustrated nicely by the ellipsis. But even if they appear to be transient, they always come back each year. On the other hand, when we get out books from the library, we eventually return them, and then someone else will take them out. Though the author’s reading of the books was temporary, there is an endless cycle of reading them from the countless readers at the library.

Another thing to get from the juxtaposition is how the two actions connect. Did the dropping off of the books, and its thud, cause the petals to scatter, or vice versa? Kind of like a trick of the mind, I find myself hearing the thud of the books as I imagine the petals scattering, possibly around the library courtyard, or parking lot. I also see how the definite thud of the books correlate to the now still petals on the ground. Though cause and effect is usually avoided in haiku between the two parts, it is not a “sin” to imply it.

The sound of the haiku works well. The “s” sound in “scattered,” “petals,” and “books” make a rustling sound akin to scattering petals. The “o” sound in “books” and “book drop” illustrate the dropping motion and maybe the sensation we feel when dropping books off.

The use of two “the” seems right, as both the sound of the books dropping and the book drop itself need to be important. If it was “a book drop” I think we would feel the impact less.

The mood the haiku is somber and introspective. For me, it instantly puts me in a state of looking for higher meaning in what I perceive in everyday life. Many haiku poets would agree that it is one their goals for readers when writing haiku: to allow people to see greater significance behind mundane existence and to see the connection between the myriad things we perceive.

If you want to learn more about Michael Dylan Welch and read his fantastic essays on haiku and related subjects, visit http://www.graceguts.com/

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)