Tag: Senryu

Haiku by Thomas L. Vaultonburg, Tuyet Van Do, and Alexander Groth

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

broken bridge—
the river teaches me
its alphabet

— Thomas L. Vaultonburg (USA)

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku reflects wreckage, destruction, and loss—possibly due to war, natural erosion, or catastrophe. The opening line, “broken bridge,” immediately conveys a sense of disruption—be it in relationships, communication, or continuity. A bridge often symbolizes connection, transition, or passage from one state to another. Here, its brokenness suggests a severed link, a collapse in understanding or unity. The em dash after the first line pauses the reader, allowing them to fully absorb the scene and connect with it in their own personal way.

The second line shows how, in the absence of that constructed path, the observer begins to engage directly with the river. The destruction of the bridge uncovers a hidden relationship with the river—something previously ignored as people simply crossed over it, never truly noticing its flow, sound, or resilience. Now, with nothing in between, the river demands presence. It becomes a metaphor for uninterrupted thought—fluid, spontaneous, and reflective—offering insight and wisdom in the aftermath of loss.

The final line, “its alphabet,” is especially evocative. It suggests the river has its own language—one that the observer is now learning to read. This could represent poetry, expression, or a deeper understanding of the self and nature. The word “alphabet” also points to musicality, rhythm, and perhaps even healing, as if the river’s sounds become a kind of song or meditation.

Overall, it is a haiku that displays humility, and that when the human-made world breaks down, nature is there with its voice and language.

vacation at grandma’s
cicada’s symphony
singing me to sleep

— Tuyet Van Do (Australia)
Haiku Girl Summer, 25 August 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

“Cicada” is a classic summer kigo (seasonal reference) in the Japanese haiku tradition, and in most countries. The poet could be implying that she was on summer vacation while visiting her grandma’s house. I got the feeling, though, that perhaps her grandma was no longer there, and the cicadas were a substitute for the lullabies that her grandma used to sing. The loudness and fullness of cicada song fill the gap left behind by a loved one to some degree.

In the second line, there is a shift to the natural world, connecting humanity with the cicadas. Oftentimes, cicadas are thought to have harsh calls, but the word “symphony” characterizes their sound as pleasant and even awe-inspiring. Perhaps at a place as so nostalgia-infused as grandma’s house, even cicadas can sound melodious and sweet.

The third line returns to the human, showing the effect of nature on the poet. It displays a clear juxtaposition of human experience and nature. Additionally, it also manifests the connection between sound and the memory of an emotion. Music, or certain sonics of nature, can often open the floodgates of memory.

Looking at the sense of sound within the words themselves, the repetition of the soft s sounds mimics the hiss and hum of the cicadas in the first line. In the last line, the s dominates again, this time softened by ng and sl, creating a lulling effect.

It is a simple haiku at first glance, but with a second look or more, one can easily see and feel layers of meaning that are poignant and resonant.

school bathroom—
the scent of fresh deodorizer
lingers in my hair

— Alexander Groth (Germany)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

Many activities can happen in school bathrooms. They can be a kind of hiding place for some students, where they talk and share secrets, though more unfortunate things can happen in school bathrooms as well. The scent of the fresh deodorizer could be covering up another scent, though this is left open to the reader. In a broader sense, this haiku makes me think about the psychological, physical, and emotional effect that various scents have in our daily lives. It also makes me think about the chemicals in various deodorizers/deodorants that some people are exposed to on a daily basis. In college, I learned certain deodorants have harmful chemicals that can enter the lymph nodes and can cause various medical problems over time, including cancer. In short, this is an important haiku that sparks conversations about school safety, the sense of smell, chemicals, and the social lives of students. 

Panorama of the Tiber with a broken bridge. Caspar van Wittel (1653–1736) 

Haiku by Robert Witmer, Ranu Jain, and John Paul Caponigro

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku7 Comments

carefully
a stranger’s footsteps
in the shoemaker’s hands

— Robert Witmer (Japan)
Modern Haiku, 54.3, Autumn 2023

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An intriguing haiku that can be read in at least two different ways. On first read, I see a shoemaker repairing someone’s shoes. The shoemaker doesn’t know this stranger, and yet performs a service. This involves a great deal of care and caution. The shoes themselves tell stories based on their appearance. I appreciate how the details of the shoes are left to the reader.

This haiku could also encourage us to contemplate where shoes come from. However, on a broader scope, this haiku involves a deep contemplation on where everything that we wear comes from. 

In short, this is an interesting psychological haiku that focuses on a worker’s interactions with the public. This is also a haiku that adds to an important conversation about work, the economy, and the making of shoes (and everything that we wear). A significant haiku.

waterfall picnic
all our music
live streamed

— Ranu Jain (Australia)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The humor in this haiku or senryu is at once amusing and deep. The jocular aspect of it is the pun in the word “streamed,” which relates to both the streaming water and the modern trend of streaming music online. The poet could be having a picnic with friends or family and playing music, with the waterfall “streaming” the sound to everyone in the vicinity. The more subtle viewpoint is that we have gotten so attached to being online that we have forgotten that nature’s music is all around us. A waterfall, a bird, the stones beneath our feet—nature is creating music constantly. The trick is to spare a moment to listen. We don’t need to pay for subscriptions or own devices. Live streaming music in nature is free and without hidden agendas.

Thinking about the kigo or seasonal reference, “picnic” is most likely placed in spring or summer. This points to the abundance that is illustrated by the presence of waterfalls and music all around us. So, I would say the poet used the association of the kigo and the content as a comparison.

The poet hit the target of being brief, with only seven words in the haiku or senryu. Another principle the poet touched on is the simplicity of language and the accessibility of its reading. The last line delivers a fun “aha” moment that is reminiscent of many other great haiku and senryu. With the lack of punctuation acting as a kireji and the usage of puns, I would venture to say this lands more into senryu territory. However, the labels of haiku and senryu are often not as clear and not as distinct as in the Japanese tradition, as compared to the Western haiku tradition.

Sonically, the poet integrated the sounds of the waterfall with the letter “l” flowing through the poem. The hard yet lilting “l” sounds connect well to the power and melody of the waterfall. A fun yet subtle haiku or senryu.

leaving one shell 
for another 
hermit crab

— John Paul Caponigro (USA)
Cattails, April 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

It appears to be a simple haiku at first glance. Yet, it reflects a process of abandonment, transformation, adaptation, and survival. The first line in the haiku primarily shows signs of detachment. The reasons may vary from natural causes, such as molting and infection, to abandonment. But, it is how circumstances push the hermit to leave its shell that has protected it for a long time. It also demonstrates the evolving phases of life that never remain stagnant.

The second line in this haiku, ‘for another’, is about transformation, adaptation, and readiness for a change, like we all do in life. The hermit crab may not fit in the old one or may face discomfort due to growth, infection, or other factors. This means it has no choice but to find another shell, another protective shield, or another phase that helps it to move on in life. We all have the same process in life: a childhood protective shield is usually provided by parents or loved ones, and when we grow up, we have to leave that bubble for another, which makes us independent. It may be our social circle, new friends, life partners, etc. So, our lives are not different from the changing phases of a hermit crab. I like the way the poet shared the development first without punctuation so that the reader can wander from one aspect to another without any clue until the closing line. It prompts us to ponder the different stages of life that are more evolutionary in nature. It also pushes us to think about how attachment and detachment, adoption and adaptation, stagnation and transformation, make our lives dynamic.

The deeper side of this haiku resonated with me after reading it. It depicts mysticism where we abandon the materialistic life and search for another one, which is more satisfying, simple, subtle, and calm. It illustrates how we detach from the physical shell of life to find the spiritual or mystical shell. Not only that, but it forms the stages of life that lead to the path of selflessness, mindfulness, and nothingness, where we abandon our materialistic life by transforming it. It is possible to achieve this through resilience, flexibility, acceptance, and readiness to change. This is how a crab, or a person, becomes a hermit and lives a healthier, peaceful, and prosperous life. I think this is the true essence of evolution as well. 

Painting by Achille Etna Michallon (1796–1822) 


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.