Ken Sawitri’s Bell

abandoned house
I strike the bell
with my shadow

Wild Plum, 2.1, Spring & Summer Issue, March 1st, 2016

© Ken Sawitri (Indonesia)

The surprise in the last line is not just there for shock, but also for its image. It conjures a mood of intense loneliness.

“Shadow” could be physical or metaphorical. It could be a play of perception, or an introspection on the past or present misery that came to the house or the narrator.

The action (or imagination of the action) of striking the bell brings the house back to life, occupying it with sound. However, this occupation only increases its somber mood, as it is even more obvious that no one lives there anymore.

In reality, the bell probably was not rung, but the narrator only touched the bell with her shadow (showing that even in the possible reluctance to ring the bell, the shadow did it for him). Houses have characters and lives of their own, and only touching the doorbell with her shadow is in a sense displaying the lonely atmosphere the house emits.

The image of the shadow touching the doorbell also shows a sense of reflection about times past, and maybe that the narrator is thinking of how she could have done something different to change the situation that made this house abandoned.

Getting more into the technical side, I think the lack of punctuation adds to the atmosphere of abandonment. The somber pace of the lines also points to the mood.

The two most prominent sounds in the haiku come from the letters “s” and “o.” The letter “s” gives way to the sound of “shhh,” kind of like a shadow brushing up against the doorbell (though shadows don’t make sounds, but in our imagination they can). The letter “o” puts more emphasis on the melancholy mood.

Starting from an initial surprise, the haiku leads to introspection and wonder about the sad state of one’s past that led to the present, and what we could have done to avoid our suffering. Though the haiku appears simple, it revs up our imagination through imagery and sound.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Angiola Inglese’s Persimmon

Italian original:

cachi maturo—
una luna è una luna
anche stasera

English translation:

ripe persimmon—
moon’s a moon
too tonight

© Angiola Inglese (Italy)

Persimmons are the favorite fruit of many people (including my wife) for their sweetness and honey flavor. They are also quite bulbous and charming to look it.

To compare a persimmon to the moon is apt. Not only are they both round, they both are well admired. Persimmons are often referred to as “the fruit of the gods” and their trees can reach up to 70 feet. The moon is also epic in its nature: a variety of cultures have moon-viewing traditions to glimpse at its beauty, but it is also associated with many spiritual and even religious traditions.

But to get to the essence of this haiku, I believe the author is saying, “Yes, the ripe persimmon is grand, but don’t forget about the moon, which is quite similar to this persimmon.”

We can look at this essence at different angles. One could be that we should not get lost in the mundane, and keep our attention rather on the spiritual. Another interpretation could be: don’t give heed to what is ephemeral, but rather to what is eternal. Yet another way to interpret it is that while we enjoy one thing, don’t forget about everything else that exists—have care and compassion for all life at all times. It is a sense of balance in a world of allure—kind of like the idea of the “floating world” in historical Japanese literature.

And with the reference to the ripe permission, we can probably guess the moon in the haiku is a full moon. Also, we can take a gander at the season: persimmons are in season from October through February. So much is said in this haiku through so few words. This is one sign that a haiku has done its job.

Looking at the sound, at least in the English translation, the most distinct sounds are in the letters “i” and “o.” In my opinion, the “i” sound adds to the mood of observation of the moon and persimmon, and the “o” sound gives a hypnotic feel to the haiku, allowing to feel the union of the moon and persimmon a bit more.

With many interpretations available through its simplicity, this haiku is a fine example of how to say a lot with just a few words.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

Anna Cates’ Walking Stick

at the muddy end
of a walking stick
wild oats

Hedgerow No. 42 August 14, 2015

© Anna Cates (USA)

(side note: check out the comments below this post for more insights into this haiku)

It seems like a simple image, but it has a significant sense of white space and resonance. What is the significance of the wild oats? What is the significance of the walking stick and it being muddy?

To me as a reader, the importance of “wild oats” is natural beauty and natural existence. The walking stick hints at the author, or someone being observed, needing support to walk—either because of feebleness or by the rough character of nature. Also, the walking stick, though natural, has now been rendered as a tool for a person. The wild oats, though humble in their appearance, can be seen as vibrant and pure. The word “wild” also contrasts the constrained life of the person who needs a walking stick.

The mud further reflects the idea of impurity or a soiled existence, in comparison with the simple purity of wild oats. But even though this mud may be a representation of impurity, it also may have wild oats attached to it. It is almost as if the wild oats are trying to tell something to the author: the separation between the human and natural world, the way to be pure in an impure world, and so on.

It is a moment that seems continuous at first (walking), but the poet takes a break to peer at the wild oats and to contemplate beauty, existence, and maybe more. Writing haiku and reading haiku usually allows us to take a break to feel what is around us more keenly.

In looking at the sense of sound, the most prominent sounds in the haiku come from the letter “d” and “i.” In my reading, the letter gives more weight to the haiku (and maybe its subject matter), and the letter “i” makes the reading of it more stark.

Also, I think the lack of punctuation was a good choice, as it reflects the idea of naturalness and purity.

Understated, grounded in its style, and having an open nature for interpretation, this haiku gets at the heart of a moment with a humble aesthetic.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)