Samo Kreutz’s thousand ways

kid’s bed
a thousand ways
to disappear

Samo Kreutz (Slovenia)
(previously published in THF Haiku Dialogue, December 2022)

Commentary

I greatly appreciate the imaginative space of this haiku. This haiku transports readers into books, stories, and dreams. As a child, my parents would read to my sister and I. These are wonderful memories that I cherish. It seems in our modern world, it can be easy to forget the imagination, but when we do this, I think we all pay the price. I feel our imagination is important because it opens our hearts and minds, and can lead to many different perspectives and creative ideas.

I feel “a thousand ways to disappear” is a great way to express being completely immersed in a book, story, or dream. 

This is a touching haiku that shows the power of the imagination, stories, and dreams.

Jacob D. Salzer

A lovely haiku that covers the stories of almost every person as a child. It shows the tangible and intangible aspects of life where a child’s bed is taken as a symbol of relief where one seeks solace and catharsis. The bed helps a child to become calm and have an uninterrupted environment where they can play, sleep, dream, and listen to stories. It’s a place that takes them to another world where they can freely think, feel, and do whatever they want.

It’s a domain where there are a thousand ways to see life differently when they are on their own and where all senses converge to provide a holistic perspective that is calm and content. Adults might desire to disappear into childhood memories, to feel nostalgic, or to have deep imagination/daydreaming that keeps them away from this chaotic world. I see this as an escape from reality where a person goes back to their childhood and gets lost in a time that was carefree and without responsibilities.

Hifsa Ashraf

There is no distinct kigo or seasonal reference here. That is fine, especially since it can fit in the genre of senryu. There is a time placement of early childhood, though.

The way the two parts of the poem fit together is intriguing. Something as overlooked as a kid’s bed as an adult is given special appreciation. The word “disappear” is the most crucial, in my opinion. It connects to both adult and child selves. The juxtaposition in this haiku or senryu reminds me of the saying, “From one, comes many.”

There is no punctuation in the poem besides the needed apostrophe. This gives more of a case for fitting in the senryu genre. However, the line between haiku and senryu, especially in English, is often rather thin.

The pacing, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line, is common practice in the English-language haiku world to approximate the Japanese rhythm of haiku.

The concision in which the poem is written is commendable. The poet uses just the right amount of words with the most effective phrasing. It is fitting for such a simple, yet poignant subject. The chosen diction is on point as well for the mood of the poem.

The sound of the letter “d” in this poem is key. It provides weight to the poem and a staccato rhythm, which connects to “thousands” in an abstract way.

With a mastery of simple power, the poet delivers a nostalgic and perhaps melancholic form of celebration.

Nicholas Klacsanzky

BEDROOM IN ARLES | THE BEDROOM | 1889 | VINCENT VAN GOGH

Chittaluri Satyanarayana’s river bed

river bed
the sound of water still
beneath my feet

Chittaluri Satyanarayana (India)
(published in haikuKATHA on 11/13/2022)

Commentary

The river bed in this haiku could still be wet or dry. Perhaps both the river bed and the poet carry the memory of the river. It’s interesting to note that human beings are mostly water. Indeed, there are many rivers inside of us. As we carry memories, it seems water too carries memories, though I appreciate how a river is timeless because the water is always flowing. I think this haiku could be about drought, possibly due to climate change. Against this sad sight, I’m also filled with hope that the landscape will be revitalized with the flowing river once again.

Jacob D. Salzer

This haiku reflects subtle, meditative, and deep experiences that leave deep impressions. It’s our state of mind and heart that binds us with our surroundings and sometimes, there comes a point when our senses sync together to experience unique happenings that a person waits for their whole life.

The river bed as a concrete part not only shares the secrets of different regions from where it passes through but shows a deep connection of nature with human nature through a common feature which is soil. One cannot see it with the naked eye but one can surely feel what a riverbed holds and offers to those who want to unfold the stories of its unending journey.

After being connected to the river bed, the first thing we can feel is the sound of water which is not an ordinary sound. It seems more musical and rhythmic where the waves of water pass through one’s feet and change the rhythm. The word ‘still’ may indicate the quiet of the mind or mindfulness when the person is experiencing the ‘here and now’. It may also reflect the slowing down of the flow of water—the calmness both within and outside. It’s the highly subtle experience of meditation when everything converges to one point which brings tranquility.

‘Beneath my feet’ is a shift in this haiku that binds the person to connect deeply with their surroundings. The feet, probably bare, have healing properties that help us to gain peace of mind after fatigue or stress. These healing points pass on tranquility from bottom to top i.e. from soil/earth to mind/brain where the impulses, like the waves of water, slow down our thought process and bring peace. The soil as a soft and passive element of nature clears our flaws, cracks, and voids in life as both the river bed and human body are made of early elements.

My concluding point is, that when all senses are deeply intact and in sync with nature, one can experience wonders in less than a moment. That type of experience can change the state of our mind and heart for good.

Hifsa Ashraf

What draws me into this haiku is its imaginative sense. There are multiple ways we can hear the water of a river despite it being dried up. It can come through daydreaming, imagination, hallucination, a nearby water source which is mistaken for the river’s flow, and more. The unsaid part of this haiku makes it stronger and more resonant.

If I had to place this poem in a season, I would say summer. Riverbeds commonly dry out during this season. Summer connects well to the idea of a flourishing imagination and an abundance of activity.
In terms of punctuation, there isn’t any. However, I don’t personally think it’s needed in this haiku. The line break in the first line works well to make a grammatical shift.

The pacing of the lines can be said to be the standard in the English-language haiku world, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line. With the second line resting on “still,” it gains more focus and amplifies its double meaning.

Looking at the sound, a few letters stand out. In the first two lines, the letter “r” dominates and gives a sense of movement. Throughout the whole haiku, the letters “e” and “i” create a stark mood that resonates with the reappearance of the sound of water.

Ultimately, the haiku’s unique line break, strong sense of sound, and expansive space for the reader’s interpretation make this a well-crafted poem.

Nicholas Klacsanzky

Painting by John White.

Royal Baysinger’s who 

not there
to remind me who’s who
— your funeral

Royal Baysinger (Canada)

(previously published in Frogpond 45.2 & skipping stones: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2022)

Commentary

The structure of this haiku is different from the usual haiku but it provides enough room to think about the message the poet wants to share with us. At first glance, I feel it’s simply a flow of ongoing thoughts about a sad reality. The thoughts don’t need to be rearranged to make them perfect for readers. We can easily comprehend what is being said without focusing more on the style of this haiku.

The opening line ‘not there’ without ellipses lets our thoughts wander until we relate it to our personal experiences or observations. I paused for a while to think about the deep meaning of these two words that may sound meaningless if there is nothing after them. But, when I read them in the context they are given, they make a lot of sense—especially when I see them in physical and mental contexts. Who is not there? Myself? Others? Or, the person who is no more? In simple words, it’s a void that has been left after the death of a person where the person who is mourning is trying to relate it to their thoughts and/or feelings.

The second line gives meaning to the first line yet it is a mystery who is reminding that person. And, who’s who? The poet has beautifully left room for us to find answers to these questions by relating our personal experiences to them. We all pass through grief and mourn over the death of our dear ones and we all somehow pass through the same feelings where certain questions are left unanswerable. Within the context of this haiku, it illustrates the feelings of a mourner who is all alone and facing difficulties in dealing with people who are in a close circle. In other words, it’s about handling social relationships which were previously handled by the deceased one. It shows a lot of dependence of one person on another which has ended now. Also, it demonstrates how we are related to each other in a wide social network and how we need each other to strengthen our sense of belonging.

Looking at the punctuation, the em dash in the third line provides a long pause to the third line which allows us to see the whole poem from different angles. ‘Your’ may address one person or every person in society. In both cases, it projects the significance of a funeral as an event that reveals who belongs to whom and how life becomes different after the departure of a person from one’s life. 

Hifsa Ashraf

I feel this haiku speaks to the value of one person in our families and communities. I like the humbling reminder of the interconnectedness of life. I also appreciate the subjects of identity and memory. 

This haiku reminds me of my mother and her social connections. Throughout her life, she has connected so many people in mysterious and meaningful ways.

Also, this haiku brings me an overwhelming sense of sadness, love, and gratitude for the person who passed away. I get the sense that many people came to their funeral. Because of this, I feel the poet is moved by not only all the people he recognizes (even without remembering their names) but also by all the people he has never seen before. The life of each person has a ripple effect with wide rings echoing in the cosmos in ways the limited mind cannot fully understand.

I feel this haiku is a humbling reminder that one person is never truly alone and that life is connected in mysterious, subtle, and meaningful ways.

This is a beautiful and powerful haiku that speaks to love, gratitude, and our limited time here in human bodies.

Jacob D. Salzer

This could be classified as a senryu. It is written about human life in a poignant way. Senryu need not be humorous or silly. Many senryu, traditional and modern, portray the melancholy of being a person due to our flaws. This poem can fit into that category.

There is no kigo, or seasonal reference, present. This points even more towards my senryu hypothesis.

However, there is punctuation, which senryu are commonly devoid of. Traditionally, senryu do not have kireji, or cut markers. In the end, though, I am leaning towards it being a senryu. Ultimately, its label is not of serious consequence, since the poem connects well with readers no matter what we call it.

The em dash on the third line, for me, conveys the emotion of loss and feeling lost in the face of a loved one’s passing. I believe it’s a brilliant use of punctuation.

Thinking about the sonics of the poem, the elongated syllables of “o” make the mood even more somber. The strong “f” in the last line ending with the soft “l” additionally creates an emotional effect.

A senryu that expresses loss with brevity and directness but also irony.

Nicholas Klacsanzky

Frants Henningsen – A Funeral