Last Wednesday I wrote the first Haiku poem I’ve written since
the fifth grade. Other poets and I attended the very informative
poetry workshop given at the Gilroy Public Library by former
librarian June Hymas and Patricia Machmiller, writer and
artist.
Last Wednesday I wrote the first Haiku poem I’ve written since the fifth grade. Other poets and I attended the very informative poetry workshop given at the Gilroy Public Library by former librarian June Hymas and Patricia Machmiller, writer and artist. Our teachers had 55 years of Haiku experience between them.
We learned that Haiku is traditionally a Japanese form of poetry, but it is being adopted into different languages all around the world, including Russian and German.
An entire poem is about 17 syllables or less and is usually no more than three lines long. “An old pond/ A frog jumps in/ Water sound.” At first a poem like this one by Matsuo Basho (the Shakespeare of Haiku) might seem deceptively simple, but there is more going on here than meets the eye.
Haiku makes use of “kigo,” words that suggest seasons, such as “harvest” or “moon” for autumn, “frost” for winter, “butterfly” for spring, or “green plum” for early summer. Since Haiku is kept to a minimalist form, no words can be used extraneously. However, it is an expansive form in that readers bring to the poem whatever ideas and memories these words evoke for them.
The Haiku is so small and yet it can be so powerful because it taps into what each person brings to it.
If someone says, “Christmas ornaments” or “summer picnic,” these words instantly conjure all kinds of images in your mind. Each season word has the potential to be evocative for the reader in some way. “Spring thunder pounds/ across cloudy skies/ steps of a scolded child.”
The three lines are not so much one sentence, as they are two seemingly disconnected ideas that have an electricity when brought together. Student Ruben Dozal, Jr. captured that idea in our workshop with his poem: “Coolness of the water/ touching the body/ words crying in silence.” While neither the first line nor the last line would seem to belong together, paradoxically they add more meaning to each other when used in combination.
It is another way of expressing inner thoughts in a more subtle way than in western poetry. When writing Haiku, it’s like taking a snapshot; one captures the moment. You are looking outwardly rather than inwardly, yet surprisingly enough, this indirection often leads to inner discovery. “Your song caresses/ the depths of loneliness/ high mountain bird.” (Basho 1644-1694).
The practice of writing Haiku has a deepening effect, both spiritually and in bringing about a greater awareness of our relationship to nature. June described her observations of how people as old as 93 have used the practice of Haiku to keep their minds healthy and active.
“Even when she became old and frail, she could still write Haiku,” June described one of the founders of San Jose’s Yuki Teikei Haiku Society. “When Kiyoko had Alzheimer’s and could no longer speak English, she could still write Haiku (in English). It was one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen.”
Gilroy’s poets will be part of a celebration of Haiku in the Tea House at the Friendship Garden in San Jose’s Kelley Park on May 14. An introductory workshop will be held from 10am to noon, with featured readers and audience participation reading from 1:30 to 4:30pm.
Visit http://www.youngleaves.org/ for more information.
