Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
By Robert D. Wilson
Haiku, to paraphrase what the late, great classical guitarist Andre Segovia said
about playing the guitar, is the easiest genre of poetry to write but the hardest to
write well.
The majority are taught the rudiments of writing and understanding haiku
by teachers in our public and private school systems. Who’s teaching these
teachers? Most of what's taught by the majority of teachers about haiku is
covered briefly by authors of textbooks who know little or nothing about
haiku; and what's covered is too general and sparse to give the genre
justice. Most define haiku as a 17 syllable poem consisting of three lines
utilizing a 7/5/7 syllable format with a reference to nature. The Merriam
Webster Online Dictionary defines haiku as "an unrhymed verse form of
Japanese origin having three lines containing usually five, seven, and five
syllables respectively ; also a poem in this form usually having a seasonal
reference ."
The Japanese language is very different than the English language. What
we call syllables in English are called "Mora, metrical units of time,"
according to renowned Japanese poetry critic, teacher, and poet, Koji
Kawamoto, in his book, The Poetics of Japanese Verse," are the equivalent
to a short vowel . . . the term syllable is an inaccurate way of of describing
the actual metrics of Japanese poetry. " States translator/author Robin D.
Gill, "English syllables are hopelessly irregular and, on average, half-again
longer than the Japanese syllabet."
Robert D. Wilson
The meter in the above poem would sound different if I were to deviate from the
S/L/S schemata indigenous to the haiku genre. Two examples:
at night, i try
not to think . . .
tall reeds
to think . . .
tall reeds
Meter is important to haiku. The S/L/S metrical system gives it its own meter.
If one changes the meter, what he/she ends up with is a haiku-like free verse
poem.
Having covered the rudiments, let's exam the genre. It's important not to "say
all" in a haiku. There needs to be room for interpretation by the reader. Dr.
Richard Gilbert in his book, Poems of Consciousness, states: "Because haiku are
extremely brief, the reader not only reads but also re-reads. As re-reading
occurs, further thoughts and feelings arise, interpretations build up, while some
are discarded; you could say that the poems grows out of itself." In essence, what
the poet writes, the reader completes. Without this participation a haiku
becomes non-memorable.
States Kai Hasegawa, also a noted haiku critic, teacher, poet, and scholar in my
recent interview with him for the Winter 2008 issue of Simply Haiku, "The
“cutting” (kire) of haiku is there to create ma, and that ma is more eloquent than
words. That is because even though a superior haiku may appear to be simply
describing a “thing,” the working of ma conveys feeling (kokoro). In contrast,
Western culture does not recognize this thing called ma. In the literary arts,
everything must be expressed by words. But Japanese literature, especially
haiku, is different. As with the blank spaces in a painting or the silent parts of a
musical composition, it is what is not put into words that is important." Pauses
(ma) provide stress and "dreaming room," as publisher, editor, and poet Denis
Garrison labels the term. I like this explanation of "ma" by Lizzy Van Lysebeth in
her book, Transforming Traditions: Japanese Design and Philosophy, "Ma is a
silent fullness. It is a sort of untouched moment or space which can be completed
by every individual observer differently, a moment or space in which one’s
fantasy can move freely. In this way the artist gets the observers actively
involved in his work.”
tall reeds
Kokoro (feeling, heart, spirit) are oftentimes neglected by Western poets. States
Hasegawa, "Because of the extremes of modern realism, kokoro is neglected,
and only 'things' have come to be written about in haiku. These are what I
referred to as 'junk' (garakuta) haiku. Sooner or later this tendency will have to
be corrected. For one thing, it is a serious departure from the main principle of
Japanese literary art. And more to the point, 'junk haiku' just aren’t interesting."
Explains Toshimi Horiuchi in his book, Oasis in The Heart, "A haiku
without a kigo loses compactness and succumbs to the prosaic. Haiku
follows this axiom: ‘The fewer the words, the broader the meaning.’ Season
words provide haiku with tone; that is, intellectual and emotional color to
embellish contents. Kigo tend to unite and synthesize the elements of
words. These elements yield to kaleidoscopic combinations which leap and
intertwine among multi-layered mutations in the reader's mind."
As I stated in the beginning of this essay, "Writing haiku is the easiest genre of
poetry to write but the hardest to write well." It's not a genre that's easily
grasped, it only looks simple due to the brevity (economy) of words. I read haiku
daily by famous Japanese poets such as Basho, Issa, Buson, Chiyo ni, and Shiki.
Reading the haiku of haiku masters helps me to study form, style, and fine tune
my feel for the genre.
To conclude, I'll quote from Matsuo Basho's disciple, Doho, ". . . the poet should
detach his mind from self . . . and enter into the object, sharing its delicate life
and feelings. Where upon a poem forms itself. Description of the object is not
enough: unless a poem contains feelings which have come from the object, the
object and the poet's self will be separate things."
Added Doho: “Learn about the pine from the pine and the bamboo from the
bamboo - - - the poet should detach his mind from self . . . and enter into the
object . . . so the poem forms itself when poet and object become one.”