eleventh.transmission
ARTICLE
Haiku: Wordless Poetry
by Joanne Morcom
old pond ...
a frog leaps in
water's sound
The world's best known haiku was written by the 17th century Japanese poet, Matsuo Basho. In only eight
short (translated) words, Basho sets a scene, introduces a character and has that character perform an
action with a twist. (The twist is that the pond makes a noise instead of the frog.) Adding the drama is the
poem's appeal to the senses. We see and hear everything that happens, especially the splash, followed by
deep silence and pond ripples.
Basho's considered the founder of haiku, although the term was actually coined by the 19th century Japanese
poet, Masaoka Shiki. Since then haiku have evolved from their classic origins, yet retain many of the
characteristics formulated centuries ago.
Perhaps their most outstanding characteristic is brevity. English language haiku are typically written in three
short lines. The first and third lines consist of five or fewer syllables, while the second line is usually a few
syllables longer. Some haiku appear in one, two or four lines, although the three-liner remains the most
popular.
In keeping with brevity, haiku are untitled, have no meter or rhyme scheme, minimal punctuation and very little
descriptive or figurative language. In fact they're known as wordless poems or poetry of the noun because
verbs, adjectives, adverbs and articles are used sparingly. When verbs do appear, they're almost always in
the present tense, because the focus is on the poet's experience of the present moment.
Another characteristic is the seasonal or nature reference, which often contrasts with human behavior, as in
the following example by the 19th century haiku poet Yosa Buson. Notice how a sleeping butterfly suggests a
peaceful summer day, while a ringing bell represents its disturbance:
butterfly asleep
folded soft on temple bell ...
then bronze gong rang!
Not all haiku focus on the natural world. Known as senryu, they're more concerned with human nature, often
with a touch of humour or satire:
oh! I ate them all
and oh! what a stomach ache ...
green stolen apples
In this senryu about indigestion, Shiki at first arouses our sympathy and then our amusement at his foolish
behavior. But the poem is also tinged with nostalgia as many of us can remember a time as children when
we found ourselves in a predicament similar to Shiki's.
Yet another haiku (and senryu) trait is the pause, break or cutting word which often occurs at the end of the
second line and juxtaposes the images presented, as in Basho's poem:
the leeks
newly washed white --
how cold it is!
It also tends to break each haiku into a long and short breath unit, or a phrase and a fragment. In this way,
haiku avoid sounding like a single sentence, or like three separate sentences.
Speaking of juxtaposed haiku images, they're usually concrete and commonplace, like the frog, butterfly,
apples and leeks already cited, or the beach in Shiki's poem:
long the summer day ...
patterns on the ocean sand ...
our idle footprints
Here the images are presented just as they are in the here and now, without the poet's subjective adornment.
However, the images themselves hint at associations and meanings that lift our awareness and
understanding from a literal to a symbolic level.
Haiku awareness is sometimes referred to as awareness itself, of the universal in the particular, of the unity
of all things, of an unchanging transcendent realm beyond physical impermanence. Traditional modes of
haiku awareness include: shiori (tender feeling), hosomi (modest expression), karumi (transparency), sabi
(loneliness), wabi (austerity), shibumi (astringency), sono mama (suchness), yugen (elusiveness) and mono
aware (evocativeness).
These moods or emotions are related to the principles of the religion-philosophy known as Buddhism and its
Zen school. Haiku masters like Basho, Shiki and Buson were all influenced by Buddhism, yet the form has
never adhered to any particular belief system. So haiku poets aren't necessarily Buddhist practitioners,
although many claim at least a slight familiarity with the religion in order to better appreciate the poetry.
Perhaps the clearest explanation of haiku as flashes of insight appears in Bruce Ross' introduction to Haiku
Moment: An Anthology of Contemporary North American Haiku:
“1. the poet experiences two nature images or sense perceptions, A and B; 2. the given haiku represents
these images or sense perceptions, which, through their observed interrelation, evoke a realization, C; 3. the
reader or listener responds to images A and B, and then to the evoked realization, C. If we recall the three
main ideas of Buddhist thought: ' ...the evanescence of all things, the selflessness of all elements ..., and the
bliss of Nirvana ...,' we may offer a complete poetics of classic haiku.”
At the beginning of this article I mentioned that haiku have evolved from their traditional origins. One
evolutionary stream is science fiction haiku, first published in the 1960's by writers like Karen Anderson and
Terry Pratchett. Tom Brinck coined the term SciFaiku to describe haiku with a science fiction, fantasy or horror
theme. In his 1995 SciFaiku Manifesto, he stated: “SciFaiku is a distinctive and powerful form of expression
for science fiction. It packs all the human insight, technology and vision of the future into a few poignant lines
... SciFaiku is haiku and it is not haiku ... It deviates, expands, and frees itself of haiku.”
Like haiku, SciFaiku capture the moment through images that appeal to the senses, and by extension,
various emotional and psychological states. They also appeal to the imagination, as in the following example:
in space
there's no morning
no mourning
This SciFaiku of mine is nominated for a Science Fiction Poetry Association 2006 Dwarf Stars and Anthology
Award. It appears in my new chapbook A Nameless Place, which also contains several dark themed poems
that I call shadowku. They reflect my interest in crime, forensics and things that go bump in the night, like this
one:
moonless night
only my car
in the parking lot
SciFaiku is dismissed by some as pseudo haiku, yet passionately defended by others as a legitimate
offshoot. I'm intrigued by its succinct articulation of hope, fear and overall curiousity about our world and other
worlds, now and in the not too distant future. No doubt Basho himself would approve of such worthy
aspirations.
Next issue: haibun, tanka, markets and the Magpie Haiku Poets
Arts, Culture, Media, Activism
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