Background

This is what A Hundred Gourds editor Lorin Ford wrote about this pivotal poet:

Janice M. Bostok will go down in history as the haiku pioneer of Australia. Though there was a general interest in all things Eastern in Australian poetry from the 1960’s and a few Australian poets included haiku or haiku-like poems in their published collections, as far as a haiku movement goes Australia was terra nullius. Any sense of a haiku movement in Australia begins with the extraordinary story of the young Janice Bostok, a countrywoman with a flair for correspondence.

As a result of the chance mention of haiku by a pen-pal in the USA and Jan’s query in return, “What is haiku?” a small volume of translated Japanese haiku arrived in the mail and Jan began writing haiku. For over forty years, Jan worked to encourage the writing of haiku and related poetry. She edited and published Australia’s first haiku journal, Tweed, was haiku editor at various times for the journals Hobo, Paper Wasp, Yellow Moon and Stylus and for five years she was South Pacific Editor for the annual Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku. She taught haiku whenever and wherever she could, taking pride in being known as ‘the haiku missionary’ and she judged many haiku competitions. She joined John Bird in his project of the First Australian Haiku Anthology and the creation of HaikuOz.

Jan’s haiku were first published in America, in 1971. Her collection, Walking Into The Sun, was a runner-up in the 1974 Haiku Society of America Merit Book Awards. Her haiku were included in Cor van den Heuvel’s 1986 edition of The Haiku Anthology and her work featured in numerous Australian and overseas journals and anthologies. Jan’s poems have been translated into seven languages.

[Source: http://ahundredgourds.com/ahg11/bostok.html%5D

Haiku Commentary

summer dusk
day lily petals fold
into night

Janice’s biographer, Sharon Dean, wrote this about this haiku:

…I was fascinated with the intimate connection between her life and haiku, a connection that would become movingly apparent to me following a 2008 trip to Japan, where I occasionally bought bottles of chilled green tea from vending machines. One day in Kyoto, I was surprised when a machine dispensed to me a bottle featuring one of Jan’s haiku. The poem was printed in Japanese characters, and the accompanying translation read:

summer dusk
day lily petals fold
into night

Aware that the flowers of most day lily species have a relatively brief lifespan – in that they open at sunrise and wither at sunset – I admired the ephemeral quality of the image. Months later, however, on hearing Jan explain that she’d written the haiku in memory of her first child, a son who had died at birth, I gained a greater appreciation for the poignancy of her art. People often told Jan they adored her work because she wrote of experiences they themselves had had, but hadn’t been able to put into words – especially words that spoke so concisely and resonantly, and also with such lingering depth, warmth … and often, humour. [Source: http://ahundredgourds.com/ahg11/bostok.html%5D

To add to Sharon Dean’s commentary, I believe this haiku also allows the reader to put their attention on what is unknown to us, and to consider its suffering. Many times, authors have written that the essence of haiku is compassion, and this haiku is a fine example.

Summer indicates a relaxed, fun time. But like all seasons, summer has its misfortunes as well: the heat often withers plants, causes animals and people to die of heat exhaustion, summer love is often fickle, and unsuspected deaths happen.

The word “dusk” paints the mood of the poem, along with “fold.” Also, the pacing of the lines leaves a solemn mood behind when read out loud. Though the atmosphere of the haiku can easily be said to be of sadness, it can also be said to be of acceptance. The day lily only does what it does—no more, no less. The loss of her son is shown through this lens in this haiku.

In regard to sound, one immediately picks up on the “d” sound in “dusk,” “day, ” and “fold.” The solemness of its sound reflects the mood of the haiku well.

In both a technical and intuitive sense, this haiku calls us to join the poet in her feelings of loss and acceptance of loss.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

autumn forest
lost in the sound
of footsteps

© Francesco Palladino (Italy)

What I enjoy most about this haiku is that it has multiple interpretations, in multiple ways. You can read it as the autumn forest that is lost in the sound of footsteps, or the narrator lost in the sound of his or her own footsteps. Also, the word “lost” has many overtones. It could mean physically lost, emotionally lost, or being in an ecstatic spiritual state, i.e. lost in the music. This kind of openness in haiku is highly valued, as it gives readers more to ponder and to feel.

But with the word “autumn,” we can infer that the word “lost” is used more in a melancholic vein. And in this sense, I think the author is saying that with each step, the crunch of leaves and fallen material in the forest is being crushed under his feet—that sound brings up a sense of compassion. Not only has the dead or dying material fallen, it is now being crushed.

Though this is something that happens in our everyday life in autumn, we often do not consider the preciousness of life and how we treat it. Ancient cultures thought of animals and plants as brothers and sisters—and most of us, as modern people, have lost touch with this feeling and kinship. This haiku, in my mind, is a subtle calling for us to remember and reinstate that collective consciousness.

This haiku can also be simply about portraying that sadness that prevails during autumn. With dead and dying material being crushed under the foot of living beings, the sadness of the atmosphere increases. Sometimes a haiku is about delving into a feeling strongly, and experiencing it to its full extent. There is a saying that if you want to conquer pain, become one with it.

In terms of sound, the letter “o” plays a pivotal role. I believe it enhances the melancholy mood of the haiku and allows us to read the haiku at a slower pace, which in turn makes us more aware of the feeling behind the poem.

A display of compassion and pensive feelings, this haiku is effective in its simplicity and reference to autumn.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Background on the Poet

Rajna Begović was born in Skopje, Macedonia on the 4th of October, 1939. She worked as a physician. Rajna was a member of the Haiku Society of Serbia and Montenegro, and her work has been included in a number of haiku collections, journals, and anthologies. She was the recipient of many national and international awards for haiku, waka, and haibun. Rajna proved to be a very talented and sensitive poet, choosing words carefully to express her feelings, her opinions, and the ever-present connection with nature in our daily life. She also wrote aphorisms, short stories, and classical poems. She lived in Belgrade, Serbia. Sadly, Rajna died on the 15th of August, 2011.

[Adapted from The Living Haiku Anthology]

Commentary

A yellow leaf flies in
through the open door
of an ambulance

Žuti list ulete
kroz otvorena vrata
bolničkih kola

(Second Place, Ito en, 2006)

This is one of those haiku that you feel and figure out immediately, but can have a lasting impact on you. As if begging to be cured from its maladies, the yellow leaf “seeks” help from humans by flying into an ambulance’s open door. However, the leaf got there from the wind, not by its personal intentions.

But this trick of the mind is important in haiku. By personifying the leaf, without stating it directly, we as readers open our hearts to the leaf, and in consequence to nature in autumn.

Although the leaf does not have personal will and consciousness to help itself, we should not be blind to the suffering of it. I believe this haiku calls for readers to keep their hearts open—even to something we may sweep up as a chore.

Also, the yellow leaf is in a sense a metaphor for the ambulance: usually yellow, contains suffering, and is being whisked away (in the leaf’s case, by the wind).

Sonically, the strongest sound running through the haiku is the “o” sound. I believe this sound provides the sense of motion of the leaf as if goes into the ambulance.

And like many fine haiku, there is a surprise ending, or something to catch us off guard to bring us into a different state of consciousness.

A great example of compassion in haiku, the physician Rajna Begović showed her work environment through a special lens.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)