Srinivas S’s footprint

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

between waves the life of a footprint

— Srinivas S (India)

(The Heron’s Nest, March 2021)

This simple monoku manifests all the key perspectives of life, but the most obvious one is the journey of life. It may consist of hardship and difficult trials. A footprint is something that is left behind in life—a past life that may be imprinted in the mind as a memory or depicts the choices a person made, the path they took. A footprint could symbolize the vivid memories of a person of life events where every step carved or reshaped one’s decisions, choices, and thinking.

The concept of waves is cleverly used in this monoku as our senses that are connected with the surrounding through waves, our brain activities, our nervous system, and our body is similar to the rhythmic movement of waves. What matters the most is whether these waves erase the footprint or fill it with water. It may also unfold the path one has chosen, the path that faces the ups and downs of life, or to and fro movement. The concept of our lives is shown in this haiku as a footprint, which is the mark that a person leaves behind as an example or memory.

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

This is a beautiful monoku that sparks a conversation about the miracle of life, impermanence, reincarnation, and the afterlife. 

When I read “between waves” I see it as a metaphor for between lifetimes. In a vast scale of time, a human lifetime appears to be like a brief footprint. 

In that sense, I feel the footprint could create a sense of melancholy (from how brief human lives are) and also joy and gratitude (from how precious life is). The footprint could be from a child, an adult, or an elderly person. It could also be the footprint of a seagull or of a dog running on the beach. I like how the poet left this open for us as readers. 

The footprint also shows a single step on a long journey, as part of a larger story. In that sense, this monoku makes me wonder what stories have been passed down and recorded throughout several generations and what stories have been lost? Some stories have been preserved, while other stories have been mistranslated or buried and forgotten. I think this is a critical subject because stories and literature have significant influence and power. Stories contain our ethics, values, and principles of how to live. They create new worlds and different ways of seeing. They record history and document what we learned. They can inspire our imagination. And, they set an example. In particular, I think some of the oldest stories and legends from Indigenous People contain strong values and important lessons for us all, especially involving spirituality, community, and taking care of Mother Earth.

Additionally, I see the footprint as a metaphor for a samskara or mental impression. We could ask ourselves: compared to the sand, how real is the footprint? It seems we all leave several marks in this lifetime and some impressions seem to last longer than others. But, in the end, it seems something universal (in this case, the ocean) washes away all our impressions or footprints. Then, it seems we’re only left with the wordless present moment, without a past or a future. As the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt has said: “Time and timelessness are connected. This moment and eternity are struggling within us.” On the other hand, I wonder if perhaps our impressions and memories are permanently stored in a universal consciousness. In any case, it is the silence itself that carries all words and sounds. Everything appears to rise and fall into silence. Even as the footprint disappears, the sound of the waves is in synch with the rhythm of my heartbeat. 

The footprint also shows engagement and actively participating in the play of life vs. becoming a passive observer. I think there is a time and place for active, compassionate observing, and as haiku poets we do this very well, but I think there’s also a time and place to be actively immersed in life and living without reflection or observation. In fact, sometimes, only when I return home from an adventure does a haiku appear.

This is a monoku that is simultaneously deep and simple at the same time. I think it’s also a moment that many people can relate to and has a universal appeal and power. 

A beautiful monoku. 

Book recommendations on these subjects: Indian Legends of the Pacific Northwest by Ella E. Clark, The Spiritual Teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi, and The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)

I can’t touch on more about the interpretation and meaning of this haiku that Hifsa and Jacob already expressed. They discussed the many layers of this monoku’s substance deftly.

I’ll now explore the technical points of this poem. First, there is no specific kigo or seasonal reference to be found in this haiku. We know that perhaps it is a low tide but the action of the haiku might be talking about someone walking close to the waves at any kind of tide. There is no issue is not having a kigo. The requirement for haiku to have a kigo has been loose for a century, even in Japan. Perhaps the exclusion of kigo began to be commonplace in Japan in the late 1800s, with masters such as Kawahigashi Hekigotō and Ogiwara Seisensui.

This haiku being written as one line is not experimental or strange, as haiku is originally written as one vertical line in Japanese. The major difference between English monoku and Japanese haiku is that English monoku don’t use punctuation usually. Japanese haiku have kireji, or cutting words that signify a shift in grammar or phrasing to make the two parts of a haiku distinct. Without punctuation, though, English monoku can be read in more ways sometimes:

between / waves the life of a footprint

between waves / the life of a footprint

or as one phrase: between waves the life of a footprint

In terms of sound, we have the unusual consonance of “w” which makes a “whhh” noise when said, imitating the song of waves. The “e” and “i” sounds also bring another layer of softness to the reading.

The haiku is noticeably brief. With only seven words, the poem is quite concise. This is hard to pull off, and if one is a beginner in this art form, I would not recommend writing in such a terse way. By Srinivas has skillfully used the right combination of words, sounds, and phrasing to create a strong visual effect in the reader and potent resonance.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

Painting by Ken Figurski

Jennifer Hambrick’s budding branches

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

budding branches
the ellipsis at the end
of his text

— Jennifer Hambrick (USA)
(Mayfly 71, Summer 2021)

This is an important social consciousness haiku that speaks to both the limitations and the value of text messaging. On one hand, brief text messages can be useful and save us time. On the other hand, emotions and meanings can often be misinterpreted in text messages. This is partly because experts say over 85% of communication is nonverbal and accomplished by our tone of voice and body language. Along these lines, in my opinion, emojis also don’t do us justice in accurately conveying emotions and meanings. In terms of punctuation, specifically, an ellipsis can convey many different messages. It can be a sign of gentleness, caution/warning, uncertainty, or even a threat or dark sarcasm/humiliation, as if someone is looking down on someone else, conveying a sense that the receiver should have known something or is somehow inferior to the person who sent the text. This wide range of interpretations in an ellipsis can leave us scratching our heads, wondering what was the real intent behind the message. 

Budding branches could be a symbol for the start of a new relationship. It could also simultaneously be a metaphor for a new baby or babies starting their life/lives on Earth. I get a feeling this haiku is an exchange between a girlfriend & boyfriend or between a wife & husband as they are attempting to communicate via text messages due to their busy lives.

This is an important haiku that sparks conversations about how we communicate. While emails, text messaging, and phone calls have their place, I think video calls or in-person meetings are the best ways to have quality conversations. They can also save us from a lot of stress and conflicts down the road.

For more info on nonverbal communication: https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/social-sciences/nonverbal-communication

 — Jacob D. Salzer (USA)

The poem starts with hope, and a presence of life probably after autumn. Budding branches depict the seasonal transformation that someone is closely observing, maybe while strolling, or through a window, viewing a painting, sketching a tree, or watching it live somewhere, etc. In any case, it shows how keen and resilient a person is who focuses on something that is progressing positively. The first line in this haiku is so engaging that a reader like me starts thinking about the colour, type, ambience, and style of budding branches as it gives a lot of pleasure exploring nature when it retreats after a dry winter.

There is a shift in this haiku in the last two lines that the poet cleverly related to the budding branches: a deeply personal experience where the text of a person with an ellipsis is accepted with possibly a positive interpretation. The ellipsis can allude to subtle emotions and feelings or an incomplete sentence that is left with curiosity and assumptions. I see it as if the seasonal transformation is related to personal transformation where things are in process and a person is not certain about the results.

Budding branches may be a positive sign, beckoning spring to appear, but it’s premature and uncertain whether these budding branches will bloom fully, and whether the birds will perch on them and sing melodious songs. Somehow, it’s daydreaming that runs the imagination of the poet wild from ‘tree to text’ where both thoughts and feelings oscillate between imagination and reality. 

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

Jacob and Hifsa have delved deep into the meanings and interpretations of this haiku. I will now explore more of its technical side.

In the first line, we get a clear indication of the kigo, or seasonal reference. “Budding” shows the haiku refers to spring. As you may know, haiku are primarily poems based on seasons and poets use them as springboards to resonance.

The first line would seem to need punctuation to mark the separation between the two parts of the haiku, called kireji in Japanese. However, the line break is a clear enough break in phrasing to aid readers in knowing that a fresh section has begun.

The second line brings about a sense of suspense, as we await what the third line will display. We can also see a pattern of alliteration with the “b” and “e” sounds in the first two lines. This echoes the repetition of an ellipsis.

In the third line, we discover the conclusion. The end has yugen, or a sense of mystery. We don’t who “his” refers to, but we do feel the significance of it. My best guess is it is about the husband or boyfriend of the poet. As Jacob and Hifsa have mentioned, an ellipsis in a text message can mean many things. Since it is a spring haiku, it could pertain to something exciting and adventurous. However, it could also be introduced as a contrast to spring, with the ellipsis meant to stand for melancholy or something left undone.

In terms of pacing, this poem follows the common line lengths of English-language haiku, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line to approximately match the traditional Japanese rhythm. The pacing works well, especially with how the third line comes.

A masterfully written haiku with strong aesthetics, conciseness, and sound.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

Painting by Vincent van Gogh

John Hawkhead’s apple tree

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku5 Comments

in the apple tree
a nest full of snow
the wind’s soft whistle

— John Hawkhead (UK)
(Presence magazine, issue 70)

I appreciate how this haiku depicts the cycles of life, and also hints at life after death. I feel the last line could be (or include) the spirits of the birds. The contrast of the warmth that was once present in the nest with the stark cold snow gives me a feeling of impermanence and letting go. I also interpreted this haiku as a metaphor for human families when children go off to college and the parents become “empty nesters.” The children’s bedrooms become empty and are sometimes remodeled for other purposes. It seems emptiness is what allows life to become full. Even if the glass is empty, I see this as a creative space, filled with possibilities vs. an absence devoid of life.

I miss the presence of birds in this haiku and their songs. They may have passed away long ago, or simply migrated to another tree that provides more protection. However, despite the winter season, the main feeling I get from this haiku is gratitude, acceptance, and beauty in the mystery of both life and death. I get a sense that when winter fades to spring, perhaps at least part of this nest will remain for future bird families.

All this being said, I feel a combination of melancholy and abundance in this haiku at the same time. I also appreciate how this haiku engages our senses. I can smell the snow in this haiku. I can even smell the apples from past seasons. I can hear the wind and the memories of birds singing that are also linked with other memories. I can feel the coldness in my bones, and the reassurance that even in death, life goes on. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)

This haiku starts with a tinge of mystery where the poet takes us to the ambience that is only observed by those who focus on the intricacies of nature. ‘Apple tree’ is often symbolized as a sacred tree or a tree of love, which makes the opening line more significant by pausing our thoughts for a while.

Visualizing a nest full of snow on an apple tree gives an idea of ‘filling the void’ in life where snow as a temporary and the most delicate phase may either project abandonment, emptiness, melancholy, and loneliness or replacement, the yearning of dreams, and hope. In both cases, it shows how fragile and uncertain this life is when one does not remain productive. The wind’s soft whistle gives some hope and positivity besides the melancholic imagery of this haiku. It also indicates the continuity or flow of life even in the most unfavorable circumstances.

From apple tree to soft whistle, this haiku gives a holistic picture of different phases of life and nature that are interconnected and depend on each other for survival. I also see this haiku as an incubation period of creativity where the poet as an observant seeks solace in the delicacies of nature by synchronizing all thoughts and feelings.   

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

Jacob and Hifsa discussed the meaning behind this haiku well. I now want to delve into the more technical aspects of this poem.

The thing I noticed first was the lack of punctuation in the second line. The break between the two parts is defined by the line break, though. If it were me, I might have added an ellipsis. However, nothing is taken away from the haiku due to a lack of a dash or ellipsis to act as kireji.

The kigo is easy to identify with “snow.” The desolation of this season is expressed even more in the third line.

Though there are three articles in this haiku, each one is used appropriately and meaningfully. Concision and brevity play a large part in the success of this poem.

In terms of sound, a lot is going on that helps the haiku read well. The “l” and “o” sounds are the most beautiful, bringing a lilting feeling and a softness if read out loud. In contrast, the “i” sound displays starkness that coincides with the imagery.

The last line for me is the most significant. The whistle can be a chilling reminder of the fragility of life and its harshness. It can also be a tribute, a soothing song, or nature being playful despite the circumstances. The poet leaves the interpretation up to the reader.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

Painting by Wolfram Diehl