Małgorzata Formanowska’s winter twilight

On December 1, 2020 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

winter twilight
one by one
crows

— Małgorzata Formanowska (Poland)
(Wild Plum Haiku Contest 2020 – Honorable Mention)

There is a stark contrast and a mystery in this poem. Twilight in winter is deep and quiet, and crows are expert scavengers. What did they find? “one by one” hints that they found something substantial to eat. Whether it is early morning or evening, against the sunlit horizon, this haiku is a meditation on the cycles of life and death. When I read this haiku, I see stars in the night sky giving signs of an afterlife.

— Jacob Salzer (USA)

Winter twilight is a time when the sky reflects the colours of both sadness and healing. The purple and scarlet sky project the deepest feelings of a person who may be either in solitude or meditating. Also, the sky or horizon portrays the road to departure where a murder of crows covers twilight’s hues and turns it grayish black.

Crows in this case may depict the transformation of day into night or personal thoughts/memories that are lost in the darkness. The crows symbolically show how all the colourful activities of life slow down in the evening and become profound and deep like the dark colours of crows or night. It also connects to the protective nature of crows, who before departing or retiring for the night, give a message of annihilation, silence, and peace.

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

The image I see when I read this haiku is the sheen of twilight and crows one by one covering that light. It is simultaneously meditative and melancholic. I also noted a harmony of nature, working together to close out a day. In addition, “winter” and “crow” can both be seen as cold words. They are both ominous and a bit dreary.

I enjoy how the writer gives space for the reader to ponder with “one by one.” We are not sure if the writer intended the crows to fly, land, or do another action. But, we intuitively feel the imagery.

In the first line, the usage of “i” lends to the starkness of winter, and the “o” sounds in the second and third lines slow down the pace so that we can easily imagine the crows’ movements. The shape of the poem is also relevant to its content, with each line dwindling in size.

An excellent, sparse haiku that connects different parts of the natural world which creates a potent mood and imagery with just a few words.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

George Henry Boughton, *Winter Twilight Near Albany*, 1858

Samo Kreutz’s train station

On November 25, 2020 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

train station—
among a pile of luggage
dawn light

Samo Kreutz (Slovenia)
(translated by Alenka Zorman)

I have a certain affinity for trains. So, this haiku naturally piqued my interest. We have a scene at a train station where luggage is left on the platform and is either going to be loaded on the train soon or has already been unloaded. But, among these belongings is the light of dawn, applying its weight.

We usually think of luggage and possessions as our own. However, the world interacts with everything we acquire. It becomes a part of it, and in turn, becomes a part of us. In the context of this haiku, dawn light integrates with someone’s journey, even for a second.

The format is in the usual short/long/short form of English-language haiku. The poem utilizes a dash to cancel out the confusion of the second line becoming a pivot and allows the reader to pause and imagine a train station. There doesn’t seem to be a word out of place or of no use. It is a simple observation with meaningful consequences.

The drawn-out “a” sounds of “dawn,” “train,” “station,” and “luggage” show the casual pace of the train station. The light “l” sounds display perhaps the faintness and beauty of dawn light.

It’s a universal haiku that speaks to our relationship with nature and how we don’t truly own anything.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

A train station is no less than a place for yearning for dreams, reminiscing about memories, feeling nostalgic, and having personal experiences, especially when alone. Moreover, a train station can be related to the departure and arrival of mental states a person can go through on their journey.

A pile of luggage is no less than a burden for a person who is already passing through any of the above-mentioned experiences that keep them engaged mentally or psychologically. In that case, luggage is merely a burden that a person holds but does not relate to or feel any association with. In other words, if train stations are life, a pile of luggage may be desires, longings, and wishes that stays with a person throughout life and they cannot fulfill them.

In my opinion, dawn light is a hope that encourages a person to keep yearning for one’s dreams and wishes and move on in life.

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

“Arrival of the Normandy Train, Saint-Lazare Train Station” (1877) by Claude Monet

Taofeek Ayeyemi’s withered blossoms

On November 21, 2020November 21, 2020 By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

withered blossoms —
locals packing the remains
of a bomb blast

(previously published in Creatrix, Issue 49, 2020)
— Taofeek Ayeyemi (Nigeria)

This haiku starts with the word ‘withered’ which shows a lack of life or annihilation. If we imagine ‘withered blossoms’, they can look dark, black, dry, and drooping—in other words, like destruction.

Relating ‘withered blossoms’ to a bomb blast site sketches the scene of a bomb blast area that appears more dark, black, and withered. Similarly, packing the remains of the blast is akin to collecting memories

If we relate this to our lives, it means our memories are probably traumatic ones that fade away or wither with time. We keep reminiscing about what is left behind.

This haiku tells me that life goes on even after hopelessness, destruction, and chaos.

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

“Remains” is a chilling word in this haiku. It can mean materials but also people. This poem could be either associating packing the remains after a bomb blast with withered blossoms, or locals physically packing the withered blossoms away as a souvenir or for another reason.

The withered blossoms can be acting as a symbol of the bomb blast as well. Our wars make our lives like these degenerated blossoms. It could be alluding to how we are born innocent and later become corrupt.

“withered blossoms” is either an autumn or winter kigo, but I would lean towards autumn. I get a sense that the poet is speaking about human atrocities as humanity’s “autumn.”

The em dash in the first line gives proper weight to the subject and allows us to pause. The format is standard for English-language haiku and just enough words are used to convey the feeling and message of the poem. Note also the string of “o” sounds that may give us an idea of the sound of the bomb.

Overall, this is a haiku that weaves themes of innocence, war, nature versus humanity, and possibly more. Though simple on the surface, it lends to several readings and has a substantial power behind it.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)