Religion & Spirituality

Spring Haiku Challenge

By Barbara O'Brien, About.com GuideApril 6, 2009

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I'm issuing a haiku challenge -- let's try to write some real spring haiku!

As I wrote in the blog about this time last year, the form of poetry called haiku began as a Zen art. Haiku seems simple to write, but it is difficult to write well. And there are many conventions of haiku that most English-speaking would-be haiku writers ignore. As a result, a great deal of what passes for haiku isn't haiku at all, or else is really bad haiku.

That said, I think even clumsy haiku is worth writing if the writer is working with haiku in true Zen spirit. This means using the haiku form to present a moment of experience. The act of writing haiku challenges the writer to pay attention.

Haiku is about nature, and the poem should provide at least a hint about the season of the year, often in just one word called a kigo. A spring haiku is about an experience of spring, right now. The haiku should present imagery and not be only about an idea, although it might present a thought in juxtaposition to the imagery. However, use of metaphor is discouraged. The haiku should directly point to an experience, not be an idea about an experience.

An important convention of haiku is the kireji, or cutting word. In Japanese, kireji divides the poem into two parts, often setting up juxtaposition. Put another way, the kireji cuts the train of thought in the haiku, which is a technique for giving the poem a bite. This is the oh! part that English haiku seems too often to leave out.

This haiku by Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902) provides an example --

A thin layer of snow
coats the wings of mandarin ducks --
such stillness!

That's what I'm talking about. Shiki sets us up with a winter scene, then cuts the thought at the dash and gives us an oh! at the end.

Here's another, by Kobayashi Issa (1763 - 1828). I believe Issa was Pure Land and not Zen, but he wrote good haiku anyway.

From the nostril
of the Great Buddha
comes a swallow

Here the last line takes us someplace we weren't expecting to go. To me, it's this freshness, this unexpectedness, that makes great haiku.

The "cut" can come early in the haiku. This is Basho (1644-1694):

The first cold shower
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw

Here the "cut" is after the first line.

Of course, you know a haiku has three lines, and convention says the first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line has five syllables again. However, I think in English we shouldn't be too chained to the syllable rule, especially if the rule makes the haiku wordier than it needs to be.

So, are we ready? I wrote two haiku this morning, which aren't up to Basho standards, but here they are anyway --

Crumpled paper cups
settle against the park bench
with purple crocus.

And

After the hard rain
wet forsythia blossoms
scattered everywhere.

Your turn!

Spring Haiku Challenge

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