Laughing Waters’ Thanks

life ended 
thanks for playing
god

© Laughing Waters (Italy)

This senryu accomplishes a contrast of two opposing moods in the same piece. That is difficult even for the most experienced writers.

1. Our mortality and briefness in this world conveys a serious finality. We are finite and god/God is there with the poet. Perhaps god is just “looking” on as the scene unfolds.

2. Then, there is humor in that it is also god/God giving the poet a memo on her life and referring to it as a role (playing) or even a game–especially a game.

This removes the finality a little since “god” might have another role/game up “his/her” sleeve. We don’t really know and that unknown aspect adds poignancy to the “memo.” It leaves the reader wondering what is meant, possibly after the memo has been received.

This one actually gets away with personifying “god,” if it is, indeed, a memo.

In haiku, we avoid personification of the natural world so it can remain part of the natural world. Clouds, for example, wouldn’t be “crying” but they could sure be used in an image set against another image of a person weeping, crying, lamenting, etc.

– Edwin Lomere (USA)

Mark Meyer’s Answers

This is definitely a Zen-tinged haiku or senryu (I would place it in the senryu box). With its humor, it shows the frustration of learning and of unlearning.

have I learned nothing?
only conflicting answers
sensei laughing

©  Mark Meyer (USA)

“Have I learned nothing?” is a common feeling someone gets when they are learning something new–and in the case of Zen, it could be for “advanced” learners as well. It could have two meanings: learning what nothing is, and learning nothing at all. The question is itself a conundrum. In Zen, feeling emptiness within–having a lack of ego and conditioning–is a “goal” to achieve. Learning something is not quite the goal of Zen: usually, it is about unlearning what we have learned.

The second line makes more sense in the context of previously mentioned statements. Answers in Zen are usually malleable and practitioners of its art try not to stick to ideas.

We don’t know the exact reason the sensei (teacher) laughs. It may be in the humor of asking this question in the first place, the teacher seeing the contorted face of the student, the teacher recognizes the student is making a joke about his learning, or feeling joy from knowing that he does not need to know answers, or all of the above.

In the poem, you can feel the frustration and comedy in the moment. It is simply written, but gets straight to the point. The “l” sound runs through it with “learned” “only” “conflicting” “laughing.” To me, the “l’ sound gives it a lilting feeling, which makes it more whimsical.

The simplicity of this piece has a lot to it actually: philosophy, anti-philosophy, and the endearing relationship between a student and a teacher.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Nicholas Klacsanzky’s Clouds

spring clouds
my mind full of
broken thoughts

Presence #52, 2015

© Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

I chose this haiku for several reasons:

1. It is a great example for other haiku writers to emulate, because it shows the “present” moment and is kept in that verb tense. Clouds are always “being” and they are like a continuous present participle that we can watch, feel, hear, flee from, or sleep under.

2. Nicholas avoids the use of a verb; the verb speaks silently like they do in many of the best haiku. My point is that a writer can imply more than needs to be written when in the haiku genre.

3. As far as verbs go, a good verb can add impact and intensity to the haiku, although we don’t want the haiku to be a drama unless we want to convey the drama, in the haiku way.

4. Nicholas contrasts these clouds with his mind full of broken thoughts and this reflects the motion and present moment of the clouds as well; so we have an insight into a moment he experienced about himself by just noticing some clouds. To me, this is the essence of a fine haiku.

5. There are clean simple lines not burdened by simile, metaphor, adverbs, etc. The one adjective, “broken” reinforces the whole connection to the fragment “spring clouds” and clouds usually are broken, unless something much more dramatic is taking place in Mother Nature that day.

A person can go on for a long time when they have a great haiku to work with and find many layers and subtle meanings. I will just conclude by saying, that this one sure did deserve to be published, as it was in: Presence #52, 2015.

– Edwin Lomere (USA)