Elliot Nicely’s Small Worries

On August 5, 2018August 5, 2018 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn TankaLeave a comment

these small worries . . .
wave upon wave,
the ocean
collapsing
beneath itself

(Presence, #58, 2017)

A very well-crafted tanka that shows a relationship between our feelings and ocean waves. The opening line “small worries” takes us to our daily activities, where we constantly pass through a lot, and which lets our mind and heart oscillate between logic and feelings.

The ocean here symbolizes the deep feelings and thoughts that are sometimes unfathomable, and we can’t deal with them well. Waves upon waves may be our cognitive process that keeps on filtering our thoughts to find out some solutions based on logic. I can also see an element of ego here where a person’s worries can be related to his/her egoistic approach towards life. Waves upon waves in terms of the heart could be saying that feelings are blindfolded, and we can’t see that logic and thought dominates compassion, kindness, etc. In both cases, the worries or problems are not dealt with effectively, which may lead to destructive thoughts, poor relationships, and in the long run, poor mental and physical health.

– Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

Yes, small worries are but waves in our lives—they come and they go. In a moment, there are worries to think about and that give color to our mundane life. And then in the next moment, these are all gone and we’re back to our own silent and secure existence.

– Willie Bongcaron (Philippines)

I like that this tanka points to the fact that we often get so wrapped up in the daily grind, that we often forget that our troubles are usually pretty minor. The ocean in the poem is a kind of reminder that each moment is new, and an issue of just the moment before can be washed away.

The word “collapsing” works well not only as an image, but also in its power. We commonly see ourselves as a linear story of a person. But in fact, we are always changing, and in each moment, we can choose to be a new individual.

Let’s talk about the punctuation a bit. The ellipsis reflects the continuous motion of the waves, and the comma allows the reader to pause a bit to imagine the waves. Also, take notice of the economy of language: no line is longer than three words, but each of them is strong and creates a stark image.

Sound is also important in this tanka. In my mind, the “s” and “o” sounds create the most prominent effects. The “s” letters seem to be making the “sss” of incoming waves, and the “o” letters appear to be mimicking the “ooo” of receding waves.

This tanka is written in a convincingly straightforward manner, but the last line surprises and allows us to introspect about how daily strifes are not so essential in the larger picture.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

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japanese-waves-painting

Svetlana Marisova’s Still Pond

On July 30, 2018 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

still pond—
shadow of a mayfly
in the depths

Mainichi Daily News (April 13, 2011)

Overall, I can see the serenity, calmness, and productivity in this haiku. Three words—stillness, shadows, and depths—depict that life is on the verge of either death or life. I can see the positive side of it—new life, reproduction, renewal in a season when there is no interference and disturbance.

Metaphorically, a still pond can be a meditation process where life flows in moments, and a person’s deep experiences of life reflect as shadows and show the true image of the self.

– Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

Reading this haiku a few times, I could not stop feeling pulled down by the deep sound of the vowels in it…. This ku seems to be a hymn to “o” and “ou,” so it deals a lot with meditation and mantras (“om” or “aum” …).

Through its images, I’m pushed to linger in an introspective mood: it opens me to a feeling of impermanence with the ephemeral presence of a mayfly, and its shadow …

The haiku invites us also to see beyond the surface of things, bringing us into the circle of life and then death. “Death” can be easily recalled at the end of the poem thanks to the assonance with “depths” used by the poet…, as if ending a life should be something natural, but also perceived as an emotional event that cuts through our own lives—deeply helping us to grab the essence of our existence, its core, the meaning of us here and now, because life and death are always together, although we try to hide from this fact most of the time.

A haiku that can be read and read again—finally reaching a new awareness ….!

– Lucia Fontana (Italy)

Not only is this haiku deep (no pun intended), but it is also meditative. The brief life of a mayfly is commonly seen as a metaphor of the extremely short span of time we get to live on this planet (according to cosmic time). Mayflies, crane flies, and cicadas usually remind us that we aren’t immortal. They give our egos a pinch. And in the context of the poet herself, she was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Maybe the poet saw the mayfly as a representation of herself.

The contrast with the peace of the still pond and the deep shadow of the mayfly creates poignancy. Even this little insect with such a brief life can reach down into the depths of the pond with its shadow. Also, this can be seen as expressing the idea that when all is peaceful outside and/or within, even the smallest creature can have a big influence.

This haiku is also a nod to Basho’s famous “old pond” haiku, I believe. Instead of sound, though, we have the sense of sight. But we can derive a similar conclusion: the mayfly, in a sense, has become the pond—or at least a part of it.

With plenty of “s” and “o” sounds, the haiku is musical. In my reading, the “o”s slowed me down and allowed me to take in the haiku in a bit more. There is also a judicious use of the em dash, making the reader pause to realize the stillness of the pond.

A classic haiku from a poet who was taken away from us way too early. I hope more people read her work.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

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mayfly

Jim Krotzman’s June Morning

On July 22, 2018 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku3 Comments

June morning
grazing cows
shape the creek

A good one … the objects (cows) within the object (creek) shape the object …

– Gabri Rigotti (South Africa)

It’s a great picture on how small the creek is with grazing cows, and even though I know cows don’t migrate, I also picture wild herds of buffalo doing the same thing elsewhere.

– Fractled (USA)

I am very familiar with this scene. A lovely walk along the river, following its gentle curve, enjoying the scent of spring grass, the sound of birds singing, perhaps spotting a family of moorhens. Then suddenly you come across the place where your feet sink into a mess of mud and cow poo, all trodden together by the herd which has left that goo for you to get your feet stuck in.

I can imagine the herd, bumping against one another, in order to squeeze into the space between trees to drink the delicious clear water. They churn up the river bank with their feet, leaving a brown, flattened, sticky mess which oozes with river water, now spreading into a new shape.

– Martha Magenta (UK)

Precise words that convey clearly what the author wants the reader to see. The word “shape” brings us to layers of sharing and interpretation. In my case, I imagine a herd grazing silently and nonchalantly as some of them stay in the creek, perhaps finding a cooler place where they chew cuds—as others roam freely on the slopes. The author zeros in on the bunch staying in the creek where the cows shapes the creek as they perhaps crowd the place.

– Willie Bongcaron (Philippines)

I like the relaxed mood of this haiku. In June, the flowers are blooming and birds are singing. The cows are grazing. I think it is beautiful nature-sketching.

– Norie Umeda (Japan)

The haiku opens with a very classical kigo which, in the author’s hemisphere, reminds us it is the eve of summer. It is also marked by grazing cows, which need to feed their calves, producing a lot of milk, and suggesting their almost stillness in the new grass, busy with their task of being mothers….

We can appreciate this haiku for its visual nature; in an instant, a fresh green sensation captures our attention when imagining those peaceful animals eating and eating….

But it is in the third line that we can have the feeling of a charcoal drawing, as if the short sounds were sketching the landscape.

It’s very well juxtaposed and original that the outlines of the cows are tracing the boundaries between the calm lawn, which shows the grounding of the poem, maybe of the author himself also, and the void of the creek, the uncertainties of what can’t be seen, the beginning of the end, or the end of an earthy dimension and the birth of an ethereal one….

The surprise at the third line is granted. A very well done haiku by James Krotzman!

– Lucia Fontana (Italy)

Much has been written about the content, so I will touch upon the element of sound in this haiku and its economy. In my opinion, the “g” and “c” sounds mimic the act of grazing. Also worth noting is that each line is only three syllables each. Krotzman has achieved a complete seasonal scene with resonance in succinct form, which is not easy to do. I enjoy the haiku’s simplicity and understated manner.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

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