Robert F. Mainone’s Light

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

all around
light failing in a field
of fireflies

© Robert F. Mainone (1929 – 2015) (USA)

(Museum of Haiku Literature Award, Frogpond XXIV, 2001)

In my childhood, I felt the firefly was beautiful, amazing, and mysterious. But as I got older, those images changed to the idea of impermanence. It is not something metaphorical—I just feel impermanence from it.

– Norie Umeda (Japan)

I love the ambiguity of this haiku.  In the second line, we are not sure if artificial light is failing, the light of the fireflies is flickering, or if moonlight is toning down. This type of mystery adds to a reader’s interpretation and curiosity. Also, the scene of a field adds to the epicness of the imagery.

Though fireflies are connected to various seasons, personally, I associate them with summer and perhaps spring. This sense of a season interacts with the imagery well, as it creates a contrast. Summer, and especially spring, is often seen as a joyful and relaxing period. However, life is not full of roses—even in spring. The light failing is a reminder that every moment, there is something fading away—maybe to return again, just like the flickering of firefly lights.

The moment is so enchanting, I think a one-part structure works well. What also works well is the sound. With plenty of “f”s and “l”s to hear, the haiku is sonorous.  The soft “l”s and hard “f”s make for a reconstruction of the feeling when a firefly’s light turns on and off, in my opinion. Besides any interpretation, the haiku reads wonderfully.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

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Alan Summers’ Juniper

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku7 Comments

juniper the tether end of larksong

© Alan Summers (UK)

(Poetry & Place anthology issue 1 ed. Ashley Capes and Brooke (Close-Up Books, April 2016)

I really love the imagery of the juniper and larksong. Larksong itself is a strong image created by fusing a visual and audible image!

The brevity of the poem makes it very direct, but I feel there is much more to it than can be seen at first glance…

…It took me a few reads to see what is going on, but I can see how the wonderful song of the bird is drawing the observer/reader in close, like the juniper berries are drawing in the lark. The song is making the observer/reader take a look at the natural scene—beyond the everyday view, deep into a wondrous microcosm, a symbiosis of the bird and tree, the bird eating the berries, spreading the juniper seeds through its faeces.

The juniper bush also reminds me of a funny scene from the movie “Monty Python’s Life of Brian,” where it is the only means of food for a recluse who has taken a vow of silence.

Brian is fleeing from an unwanted following of fanatics looking for a savior and arrives on a mountaintop. He falls into a recluse’s hole, hurting the man’s foot. The man shouts out in pain, cussing about breaking his 5-year silence. But soon, he starts singing, as he might as well. Brian is trying to keep him quiet so his following doesn’t find him, but to no avail of course.

When the mob arrives and they hear what has happened, they decide it is a miracle performed by Brian. Soon though, they wonder why there savior “led” them to the mountaintop where there is no water or food.

Then Brian points out a nearby juniper bush and its presence is declared another miracle!

The scene ends with the recluse fighting Brian’s following over the juniper bush.

I guess the point being that the recluse’s voice led the group to discover the juniper bush, like the lark’s song draws us into the haiku moment.

– Michael Smeer (Netherlands)

There have been some eastern poems about drinking, but they were not corrupted. They look like saintly poems. I think that this author drank the gin “juniper” to the limit “tether” until morning when the larks were singing—but heaven’s gate closed, because the larksong ended.

Bad habits will make you lose your mind, and it will be its own tether. Maybe we think that the past drunkard poets as saintly because they stand far from power. They say Santoka was always drinking, but his haiku is popular now.He wrote many haiku, begging and drinking while he was wandering. I think there isn’t a commonality between this author’s life and Santoka’s life, but they can’t stop drinking to their dream.

– Norie Umeda (Japan)

I imagine this juniper as an old, dying, or felled tree. Lark sparrows (based on what I have read) tend to favor more open grassland. Could it be that the bird is singing a happy song?

Alternatively, the tendency in places to plant and save more juniper trees (ecotourism) means the larks in those areas are in decline. In this case, could it be that the bird(s) is singing a sad song?

Thirdly, if we define juniper as an evergreen (from the Latin, junniperus) the youthful image that arouses contrasts with “the tether end of larksong” which one could imagine meaning that the birds are getting ready to migrate, taking with them their beautiful sing-song. Does it mean winter is on the doorstep?

Lastly, in certain countries, poachers trap birds (including larks) and eat them. I can picture a bird glued (birdlime) to a branch. It’s a slow death and would surely provoke a heart-breaking song. I am not sure larks are trapped in that way (they nest near the ground) but the image jumped into my mind.

– Corine Timmer (Portugal)

The juniper has distinctly sharp shoots and often the shape of the tree itself forms to one side, and I think comparing it to the “tether end of larksong” is a fine association. Besides showing an intriguing connection, I believe the image brings the reader to a state of mental silence, watching the lark’s song in its last sound.

Juniper berries are a summer kigo, or seasonal reference. The call of the lark is reflective of summer, in my eyes, as it has an uplifting and energetic resonance. The juniper is also reflective of summer, with its sharpness matching the blaze of summer heat.

The “r” sounds in this monoku also associate with the call of the lark in its curved song.

You can easily feel the moment of the haiku when you read it, and it brings one peace and introspection.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

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Maya Lyubenova’s Wishing Well

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku, SenryuLeave a comment

wishing well —
the words I whisper
back in my face

© Maya Lyubenova (Bulgaria) (1956 – 2016)

This is a powerful haiku. It reminds us to be careful of what we wish for, and also implies how attaching to even a single thought can significantly impact someone’s life. The act of whispering amplifies the silence surrounding the wish, creating more depth, which is also signified by the depth of the wishing well. The “w” sounds in the first two lines seem to create a calming effect. By contrast, the third line hits the reader in their own face, allowing him or her to reevaluate their own wishes/desires or perhaps discard them.

– Jacob Salzer (USA)

Did she drop the words in the well? This haiku has a strong kire at the end of the first line, but the middle of the second line has a kire with “the words.”

I feel words fell in the well like a coin. So, in the second line “I” …this viewpoint starts inside the “well,” and this “I” whispers back in my face. Its viewpoint is turned upside down again. It looks like the wishing well keeps whispering endlessly.

In our country, a well is a sacred place. We think that there is a god in the well. It seems that it is a common understanding among people in the world. Often, folktales are told as a moral story involving a well.

But this haiku is lovely and mysterious. Maybe the repetition of the “w” sounds make us proceed to the third line.

The first line’s kire and the middle of the second line’s kire creates a strong separation. The enjambment of the second line creates discomfort, but becomes a gentle slope by the “w” sounds.

– Norie Umeda (Japan)

Bulgaria is such a beautiful country with a rich culture. Line one is very strong in this haiku. It sets the perfect scene. Very mysterious, and also feminine, because it is more likely for a woman to follow the gypsy teaching to visit a wishing well at night during a full moon to bring a silver or gold coin to make a wish. In line 2 and line 3, the rest of the story is built. I believe this girl wished for something very special and even she had a doubt if her wish would ever come true. I enjoy this haiku very much. Here is an inspired haiku:

two silver coins
spin in night air—
first golden leaves

– Laughing Waters (USA)

A simple ku with deep layers of meaning… for one, in a wishing well, we normally toss a coin or two and whisper a wish. But a wish could just be a wish. It is an inkling of what we want to become a reality, whether it is about love, attention we want from another person, a windfall, or what have you. But we know that a wish just comprises words that needs more than an act of wishing… it will only go “back in my face.” Perhaps more actions are needed for the wish to come true… this brings us to the sweat that we apply in order to achieve the wish. As they say: “action speaks louder than words.” This is how I interpret and see this ku.

– Willie Bongcaron (Philippines)

If you enjoy this poem and the commentary, please let us know in the comment section.