Tag: kala ramesh

Haiku by Maurizio Brancaleoni, Kala Ramesh, and Sarah Mirabile-Blacker

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku5 Comments

small green leaves —
the ticket machine
is acting up

— Maurizio Brancaleoni (Italy)
Trash Panda, Vol. 7, Summer Issue 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

I appreciate the message and humor in this haiku. On first read, I saw the small green leaves being stuck in the ticket machine, preventing it from working. Alternatively, the machine could be malfunctioning for other reasons. In terms of a visual comparison, this haiku reminds me that ticket machines have semiconductor chips that are very small. What happens when a ticket machine (that has become a normal part of life) stops working? That moment of humor and frustration comes through this haiku. We also don’t know what kind of ticket machine is being referred to in this haiku. I like that it’s left open for the reader.

Sometimes, I think certain technological interruptions in daily life can reap many benefits and different points of view. It can break habitual thought patterns and offer fresh perspectives on life. As Gururaj Ananda Yogi has said, “Life is not meant to be lived like a machine. Life is an art.” This haiku also brings to mind haiku about power outages and how a power outage can open up new perspectives and ways of living and being in the world. Parallel to this observation, I think that because the machine is not working in this haiku, the poet is able to notice Nature. I find there is beauty in that. In general, perhaps if more people spent less time with technology and less time on their phones, they could notice more beauty around them.

In my city, there are various machines along streets and bus stops, including parking ticket machines, that help generate revenue for the city budget. How much money do cities make per year in parking tickets alone? According to qz.com, “San Jose made $11.4 million through parking tickets in 2019, an amount that doesn’t include the fees that weren’t collected.”

In short, this is an interesting haiku that explores the various intersections between Nature, psychology, money, and technology in modern life.

cycling   the moon and i    in sync

— Kala Ramesh (India)
Wales Haiku Journal: Summer 2025 edition

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku elegantly captures the interplay between nature and personal experience, linking the lunar cycle to the menstrual cycle. Even without an accompanying description, the connection between the average 29-day menstrual cycle and the lunar cycle remains clear. The term “cycling” conveys more than temporal alignment; it signals synchronized phases—waxing and waning, thickening and thinning—of both the moon’s surface and the womb’s lining. This suggests profound harmony between human biology and cosmic rhythms. “Cycling” carries layered meanings: endurance, patience, and transformation, whether physical or subtle, in both body and moon. Its repetitive nature reflects the universe’s order—growth and decline, life and death, beginnings and endings. These parallel the shared journeys of nature and humanity. Finally, the moon emerges as a symbol of life, fertility, love, rebirth, and transformation. It shares an intimate, almost invisible connection with the womb.

The monoku’s use of “i” in lowercase conveys humility and grace. It embraces the cyclical nature of both body and moon. The poet forges a unique bond, aligning the feminine essence of the moon and the self in harmony.

The word “sync” acts as a clever pivot. It implies both alignment and an inevitable pause—perhaps signaling transformation, rebirth, or menopause, where cycles break before renewing. This pause invites meditation, renewal, or a shift in life’s course. It offers a moment of rejuvenation after exhaustion.

The monoku’s spacing encourages reflection on each word, slowing the reader’s rush to judgment. This structure, combined with the lowercase “i,” underscores humility and invites the contemplation of the interconnected cycles of nature and self, unified in their feminine essence.

dusk —
riding tandem
with his shadow

— Sarah Mirabile-Blacker (Switzerland)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

This haiku captures a fleeting yet intimate moment between self and shadow, set against the liminal time of dusk. “dusk” isn’t a conventional kigo (seasonal reference), but it functions evocatively. Dusk carries universal associations with transition and ending—themes rich with emotional and symbolic resonance. Although not tied directly to a season, it offers a subtle kigo-like atmosphere, hinting at cyclical closure or introspection.

The dash after “dusk” pauses the reader, allowing the scene to transition—between day and night, visibility and obscurity. The dash puts “dusk” into “solitude” before introducing the duo of the rider and his shadow. That separation allows the two elements—time and action—to resonate individually, then recombine through the act of juxtaposition. The dash is an approximation of kireji, the Japanese cut marker in a haiku.

“Riding tandem” suggests companionship and rhythm. To “ride tandem with his shadow” conveys both literal imagery—a cyclist lengthened by his dark double—and metaphorical resonance. The shadow is no longer a passive outline; it becomes an equal partner, keeping pace, inseparable yet independent. “his shadow” could also refer to the narrator riding alongside the shadow of a friend, husband, or family member.

Looking at the sound of the haiku, dusk closes with the hushed consonant cluster -sk, trailing off like something that is dimming. shadow ends in the long, fading vowel -ow, evoking dissolving, like a sound disappearing into the air. So, the word choices themselves suggest a diminishing, mirroring the passage into night. Also, the sharp sounds (bolded) in “riding,” “tandem,” “with,” “his,” and “shadow” provide a stark atmosphere to the poem.

This haiku displays a precise perception that opens into wider emotional and philosophical terrain. Through the use of kireji, the mood-infused “dusk,” and the economical but striking juxtaposition of rider and shadow, the poem evokes transience, identity, and companionship in a moment suspended between day and night.

Frontispiece to “Sharing an umbrella (Ai ai gasa)” by Izumi Kyōka, frontispiece illustration, woodblock print.

Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Joanna Ashwell, and Manasa Reddy Chichili

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

plucked jasmine
a funeral
        on my hands

— Kala Ramesh (India)
The Heron’s Nest: Volume XXIV, Number 1: March 2022

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Jasmine not only has a powerful scent but also has far-reaching symbolism in rites and rituals. In India, jasmine is a common flower used as garlands for the deceased. The scent of the flower is so strong that it often can linger on the hands of the person handling it. In this haiku, the poet creates emotional resonance with the contrast of death and the continuance of scent (or life) after an offering. Interestingly, due to the phrasing, the funeral mentioned could refer to a person or the flower itself.

The word “plucked” connects well to the theme of death, as after a flower is plucked, it eventually withers. The poet may be saying that like plucked jasmine, when people die, our scent is left behind in the form of memories, passed on wisdom, and life work. The phrase “on my hands” has a dual meaning of physically being on one’s hands and also a sense of responsibility. With added space in the third line, I believe Kala is illustrating the weight the funeral is having on her and the responsibility she feels in taking care of this rite. It is also a unique concept to see one’s hands as a funeral, which leads readers much to mull over.

Traditionally, jasmine is a kigo or seasonal reference for spring. In India, jasmine can blossom from spring to autumn. Overall, I propose that in the context of this haiku, Kala may have been increasing the resonating contrast of spring with the end of life.

The poem is quite efficient with only seven words. This effectiveness doubles with the usage of multiple meanings with “plucked” and “on my hands,” plus the employment of physical space in the third line. In terms of sound, the most outstanding letter is “l,” where the reader can almost feel the action of being plucked.

There are many ways for readers to imagine the haiku in existence and that is one of the strengths of this poem. Kala allows the “white space” in the haiku to speak and the result is a multi-layered poem that connects to the deeper recesses of our spiritual self.

chaffinch call
a brief burst
of sunshine

— Joanna Ashwell (UK)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, issue 3:2, Spring/Summer 2020

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

Chaffinches call for many reasons, i.e. rain, warnings, mating, or interactions with each other. The chaffinch, a little bird, is a symbol of positivity, happiness, and good tidings. The call of a chaffinch is being heard by the poet or a keen observer, which shows how nature attracts our senses in different ways. Chaffinches have a soft tune when they chirp. When a person hears their call, it is in a calm and quiet place i.e. park, forest/jungle, garden, meadow, etc. The word ‘call’ instead of ‘chirp’ indicates that it is for a purpose. Having no ellipses at the end of line one allows us to interpret it in our own way. 

The rest of the haiku defines or specifies the chaffinch’s call which may be related to a pre-rain or post-rain situation. “A brief burst” is purely a seasonal expression here with some great analogies, i.e. a brief burst of joy, hope, laughter, or related feelings after a hopeless, cloudy, hazy day, or feelings. I see it as a sudden change in weather where the sun is playing hide and seek with clouds akin to the ups and downs in life where we need a call or news that can break gloomy feelings or thoughts. 

The third line of this haiku implies positive energy and life hidden in the sunshine which soothes our senses and changes our feelings/thoughts and ultimately our mood. If it is a pre-rain or post-rain circumstance, then ‘sunshine’ could mean brightness and light that makes us calm and positive after a rough patch or harsh weather.

I love this haiku because of its simplicity and expression. It shows how deeply our lives are connected with nature and how much we depend on it both internally and externally. 

Also, the sounds of ‘ch’, ‘s’, and ‘b’ make this haiku rhythmic and allow us to enjoy reading it while imagining the chaffinch’s call.

empty bowl
so many thoughts
singing in my heart

— Manasa Reddy Chichili (India)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, Volume 8:1 Autumn/Winter 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

I appreciate this haiku because, in the empty bowl, the poet’s heart and mind are full and overflowing with thoughts and images. The notion of “so many thoughts singing in my heart” gives me clear feelings of gratitude, harmony, and abundance. I appreciate how the value of the empty bowl becomes apparent in this haiku without explaining it. When each of us looks into the empty bowl, what do we see? 

This haiku could also involve a lack of food. I can see the poet holding the empty bowl, perhaps asking for food on a street. Even in this interpretation, the poet seems to be fulfilled in their spirit, even if food is scarce. In turn, I think of how food is sacred and not something to be wasted. The poet (and perhaps others) could have also just finished eating a meal and all that remains are so many thoughts of loved ones who are living and those who have passed.

I can also see a singing bowl in this haiku. This special bowl sings precisely because it is empty. 

This haiku also resonates with the well-known Buddhist saying from the Heart Sutra, “All form is emptiness. All emptiness is form.” Thoughts rise and fall, but only in what could be called a sacred silence. In a way, we could be seen as images of the invisible.

What songs can we sing to those we love in this lifetime? 

This is a moving haiku we can contemplate and experience without overly analyzing it. It is personal yet universal at the same time and accessible. We can each experience the poem in our own way. A beautiful haiku.

Painting by William Morris (1834-1896). Original from The Birmingham Museum.



Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Valentina Meloni, and M. R. Defibaugh

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku13 Comments

beachcombing
countless empty homes
washed ashore

— Kala Ramesh (India)
haikuKATHA: #35, September 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

What most connects me to this haiku is the multifaceted second line. I can see at least two ways to interpret “countless empty homes.” The more poetic way to see it is the homes of creatures like mollusks, and the like, washing ashore. The other interpretation is that people’s homes are coming ashore after a natural disaster like a powerful storm. Both versions bring a sense of dread and melancholy, especially in light of the contrasting leisurely activity of beachcombing. Another interpretation that may dawn on the reader is the imagery’s association with war. Our modern world is engulfed in several wars at the moment, and this haiku might be reflecting this. This way of perceiving the poem especially highlights a connection between humanity and the natural world.

Looking at the more technical aspects of this haiku, we can look at the punctuation, sound, and phrasing. There is a lack of punctuation, yet it is not quite needed. The second line acts more as a pivot without punctuation. As a reader, I intuitively paused after the first line, as if a comma or dash were there.

Kala Ramesh is a classically trained musician in Indian classical music, and it shows in her haiku. The “k” sound in “beachcombing” and “countless” brings about starkness in my mind. Conversely, the “o” sound in each line reinforces the melancholic mood of this poem.

Lastly, this haiku is paced in a way that approximates the original Japanese rhythm of haiku, which is a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line as an English-language standard. Even though haiku is originally written in one line, it is delineated in two parts through kireji, and three lines in English represent those two parts. It is also noticeable that the poet practiced brevity and conciseness, with each word in this haiku being important and efficient.

The sum of this haiku is greater than its parts, though. The feeling one gets from the imagery, sound, and pacing is best simply felt rather than explained. A sense of compassion washes over the reader, which is sorely needed these days.

music plays—
sweet air holds a longing
for what might be

— Valentina Meloni (Italy)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

As a musician, I appreciate the dynamic atmosphere in this haiku. I admire how this haiku includes sound, scent, and perhaps a sixth sense, or the sense of longing. I like how the music is not defined, which allows us as the readers to hear different kinds of music. “music plays” gives me a feeling that the music is unfamiliar, and perhaps heard at some distance. I feel this adds spatial and psychological depth to this haiku. When I read the second line, I imagine breathing in the scent of a flower (or perhaps several different kinds of flowers) that has a sweet scent, though I like how the poet left the sweet scent open for the reader. I also like how the sweet air implies wind or a soft breeze that combines with the music. Through music and scent, the poet succeeds in leaving room for mystery. Perhaps most importantly, this haiku shows the power of music and its ability to inspire and bring us hope in a way that transcends words and thoughts. For me, among all art forms, music continues to be the most powerful creative expression of the human spirit. This haiku effectively expresses this sentiment, with grace, beauty, and mystery. A beautiful haiku.

prayer balloon—
our scribbled wishes
just out of reach

— M. R. Defibaugh (USA)
English-Speaking Union of Japan-Haiku, March 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This is a haiku that is purely based on the belief in prayers. I am a great believer in prayers. A prayer balloon is a symbolic way of writing and sending prayers, which is quite subtle. I find it a beautiful way to show one’s deep connection with prayers, wishes, and desires, and demonstrate it tangibly. It also helps the person psychologically to let go of worries with the flying balloon. 

The em dash after the prayer balloon shows its significance for the poet. The second line is about one’s wishes that are scribbled and highlighted on the balloon. It is a way to share one’s desires in the most obvious manner, where one is not only wishing them in their hearts but also aware of those wishes by scribbling them.

I find it therapeutic when one writes down their prayers or wishes on a delicate balloon that can carry the weight of those prayers and wishes easily, and acts as a bridge between the person and God. When a prayer is being scribbled on a balloon, it involves all senses, which means the person is mindful and fully aware of what’s in their heart and what should be written. This is the act of knowing. 

The third line is a sort of comparison and contrast with the second one—the act of unknowing. The person’s conviction and beliefs are intact whilst scribbling the wishes, but there is a sense of helplessness or no anticipation of those wishes; there are some sort of expectations and thoughts that gather in the mind after releasing the balloon in the air. This is a sort of realization that certain things are not in our control; we can make efforts only. ‘Just’ in the third line means the person has precise thoughts on it that once the wishes are done, they are not in our hands anymore—especially in this case, where the balloon disappears after some time. So, it’s a journey from seeing to beyond seeing, where one’s thoughts and feelings oscillate from known to unknown or vice versa. 

Matsumoto print, no. 39. The Matsumoto Do, Ltd. Tokyo, Japan.