Tag: poem

Haiku by Ingrid Jendrzejewski, Joseph Howse, and Srini

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku3 Comments

rush hour
the paper bag
crossing the street

— Ingrid Jendrzejewski (UK)
April 2024 at Cafe Haiku (Cityscape series)

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening line makes this haiku quite interesting. ‘Rush hour’ is now a new normal, where everyone is trying to meet the requirements of a fast-paced life. No ellipses after it may mean it’s open to interpretation. Everyone can fit in the scene according to their daily routine. It can be jobs, errands, studies, meet-ups, business, events, etc. In any case, the time is crucial and significant. The ‘sh’ sound in ‘rush’ highlights the urgency of work, while the silent ‘h’ in ‘hour’ shows how quickly it passes without letting us be aware of it. 

The second line shows us those priorities that are usually not significant enough but keep poking us throughout the day. These priorities or tasks may distract us or deviate us from our main focus. ‘The’ before ‘paper bag’ refers to a specific bag or an analogy to our materialistic life that may be hollow and empty yet chaotic as well. This also indicates the mess around us that makes our life more complicated as mentioned in the third line of this haiku.

Crossing the street, or crossing our path, prompts us stop or slow down the ‘rush hour’. This could also relate to ceasing our thoughts or feelings. It also means that sometimes certain irrelevant things become relevant even if we are not paying much attention. This is how delicate our lives are. This is how emptiness or loneliness behind a fast-paced life keeps following us or crosses our paths. We realize that our relevance is defined by our attitude towards life.

raspberry fenceline
a neighbour asks
how many kids in the plan

— Joseph Howse (Canada)
Kokako 42, April 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, social dynamics, and responsibilities. The first line is unique in that the fence itself could be the raspberry vines. Alternatively, the raspberry vines could be growing against an actual fence, and perhaps over the fence. The imagery and scent in the first line include both the sweetness of raspberries and the thorns of their vines that are likely entangled. This creates a powerful juxtaposition because we can imagine the tangled raspberry vines as being a metaphor for the complexity of relationships. In addition, there is a correlation between the plants growing (and the raspberries ripening) and the children growing and maturing over time. Will the children eventually climb over the neighbor’s fence? There is some potential humor in this haiku as well. Indeed, the neighbor’s question in the third line seems to signify a mental preparation for more babies and children in the neighborhood. I imagine a young couple buying their first house and talking about having children, which is a deep conversation that requires a lot of careful thought and planning. The last two lines could also imply that the neighbor may offer to help raise their children and support the family over the years. In summary, this is an interesting and effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, planning, responsibility, and the complex dynamics of social life in neighborhoods. A well-written haiku.

a sentence without punctuation desert silence

— Srini (India)
Kingfisher Journal, issue 10, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The concept of this haiku is clever. It discusses a sentence without punctuation and also presents itself as such. The word “sentence” can have dual meanings: a syntactical construction and what a criminal receives (or an innocent person sent to trial) as a punishment. Having “a sentence without punctuation” could refer to a person sentenced to life in prison.

Being a one-line haiku, it can be read in multiple ways: “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence”; “a sentence/without punctuation desert silence”; “a sentence without punctuation desert/silence”; and read as one flowing thought. The most natural, in my view, would be to read it as “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence.” However, each reader may approach it intuitively in different ways. Either way, this haiku shows a strong bond between human linguistics and nature. Another perspective is that this haiku is a contrast between something fabricated (language) and something standing alone in itself (the desert).

There is no kigo or seasonal reference per se, but “desert silence” does point to a certain time. It is most probably at twilight or early morning in the desert. This has an interesting potential for resonance with the idea of a sentence. A sentence is something formed and could relate to these times when life is waking up or is unclear.

Looking at the sound, I enjoy the letters “s” and “c” being reflections possibly of the hiss of sand. The letter “t” also has a finality to it that could connect to the context of a sentence or desert silence.

This haiku follows the principle of brevity with only six words present. Basho spoke of the necessity of haiku having no hindrance for the reader, yet there is deep meaning. I believe this haiku strikes this chord. It is one of the few haiku I have seen use the word “silence” successfully without me flinching, as often the word is employed in a cliche or lazy fashion. Srini has written a haiku that is at once natural and linguistic, which comes full circle in the context of the poem.

Red Raspberries on a Forest Floor by William Mason Brown, c. 1866, High Museum of Art

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.

Haiku by Kavita Ratna, Elliot Diamond, and Jeremy Haworth

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku10 Comments

river view
a salmon floats
on a cloud of oil

— Kavita Ratna (India)
Cold Moon Journal, October 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An important haiku that shows not only environmental harm but also our human dependency on oil in modern culture. In turn, this haiku shows the negative consequences of modern, industrialized culture without overly explaining it, and contributes to a much larger conversation. What kind of lives do we want to lead? Are we aware that when we damage the Earth, we also damage ourselves? The depiction of death in the second line also has a haunting effect. It seems the word “floats” suspends the moment in time, showing how events like oil spills disrupt the natural cycles of the Earth and complex ecosystems. I think we should turn to Indigenous wisdom for guidance to heal the many wounds we have created on Earth and to live better lives.

This haiku also reminds me of an important poetry anthology, I Sing the Salmon Home, edited by Rena Priest.

I hope this haiku will inspire people to support the salmon population and reflect on how we can live better, and take better care of each other and the Earth.

the rush of hail                                                            
to a distant iceblink
compass to home 

— Elliot Diamond (USA)
Time, #61 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The imagery, diction, and sense of sound drew me to this haiku. An absorbing image is described in the first two lines, which is epic to imagine as a reader. I’ve never seen the word “iceblink” before, but I had fun learning that “it is a white light seen near the horizon, especially on the underside of low clouds, resulting from [the] reflection of light off an ice field immediately beyond” (Wikipedia). The hail seems to merge with the iceblink, and this intuitively relates to having a compass to home. The integration of elements brings a sense of enlightenment, which is akin to finding one’s home. In a more practical sense, “the iceblink was used by both Inuit and explorers looking for the Northwest Passage to help them navigate safely as it indicates ice beyond the horizon” (Wikipedia).

Thinking about the kigo, or seasonal reference, it is mostly placed in winter. Hail and ice are commonly associated with winter but could appear in autumn or even spring at times. Anyway, the cold could be associated with the calculation of a compass, though it points to something as personal as a home.

The lack of punctuation or cut (kireji) makes the second line act as a pivot. So, it can be read as the rush of hail/ to a distant iceblink compass to home or the rush of hail to a distant iceblink/ compass to home. The latter is probably the most common reading of it.

Finally, looking at the sound, the letters “h” and “l” in rush, hail, iceblink, and home give me the impression of subtlety yet emotional weight. With 11 words in a short/long/short structure using common language (except the surprising “iceblink,” which is a pleasant artistic touch), this haiku follows the haiku tradition well. Beyond that, the compelling overall package of the haiku manifests a spiritual feeling that is also somehow personal.

sun haze 
what’s left of the stream 
rock shadows

— Jeremy Haworth (Ireland)
Presence, issue #81, 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

sun haze is a kigo that refers to seeing things clearly due to environmental conditions, i.e., smoke, smog, dust particles, fog, etc. Starting with this kigo allows us to pause and imagine the condition we unfortunately often pass through. It may indicate climate change, blurred vision, oblivion, a lack of awareness or clarity, etc. In any case, the poet lets us see an image that is significant in our lives in terms of survival and quality of life. In two kigo words, there can be a lot to explain, and that’s the beauty of haiku. You can let your imagination go wild and think of all possible but relevant aspects that can link to the kigo. The poet set a ground for us through this kigo so that we can feel the severity of issues related to climate and environment. 

In the second line, the stream may be either dried or near dry due to drought, infrastructure, expansion of cities, modern life, a lack of rain, or other reasons. My impression is that the stream may never come back, which is quite alarming. The poet didn’t end the poem with the death of the stream, but he focused on what’s left behind. The word ‘of’ is used cleverly in this haiku along with ‘what’s’, which may or may not be a question one can ask themselves.

The third line, ‘rock shadows’, indicates there is still water in the stream with a low level where one can see the shadows of rocks. It seems the rock shadows are symbols of annihilation, where one can not see them clearly in water, or they are imaginary, which tells us the stories of the stream’s origin. In any case, it’s a dreadful picture of nature in danger due to our actions. The beauty of this haiku is that there is no human experience or condition mentioned in it, but it still makes us ponder environmental conditions. 

I can see an analogy between this haiku and human experience i.e. the sun haze may be the blurred vision or oblivion we are in; the stream may be a thought process that is not in a great flow; and rock shadows are speculations or doubts about critical thinking about the environment/climate that needs our attention. 

Ice blink captured by Herbert Ponting in 1913