Haiku is a short form of Japanese verse typically characterised by three qualities:
- Juxtaposition of two images or ideas and wording or idea between them, a kind of verbal highlighing of the juxtaposed elements.
- Traditional haiku consist of 17 in three phrases of 5, 7 and 5 on (syllables) respectively. A Kigo (seasonal reference), or reference to motion or time.
one of my favourites by Bashō:
at the ancient pond
a frog plunges into
the sound of water
Modern Japanese haiku are less strict in form and subject, but the use of juxtaposition continues to be honored in both traditional and modern haiku.
There is a common perception that the images juxtaposed must be directly observed everyday objects or occurrences; this is not neccessarliy the case, but helps define the form or distill the experience being expressed.
In Japanese, haiku are traditionally printed in a single vertical line while haiku in English often appear in three or four lines to parallel the three phrases of Japanese haiku.
Modern Haiku can be just as brilliant in clarity take this cutting examble Second Prize The Robert Spiess Memorial 2013: Margaret Dornaus
I practice cradling love
in a stainless spoon
Haiku on Kindle
The Heart of Haiku by Jane Hirshfield
Illustrated Basho Haiku Poems
Reflection Haiku: Living Modern Lives the Simple Way – Lily Wang’s English and Chinese Zen Shorts by Lily Wang
Reflection Haiku: Living Modern Lives the Simple Way – Lily Wang’s English and Chinese Zen Shorts
Night Fall (Haiku For The Evening Shade)
Intro to Haiku: An Anthology of Poems and Poets from Basho to Shiki
Haiku: This Other World
Kindle books from Michael Wormald
Kindle Edition Cover
The Long Hard Highway [Kindle Edition]
by Michael Wormald
Poetry, Haiku and reflections on the difficulties of living with ME.
Cheap sword hanging
By a good
Demands more attention
Inside neon bright
Outside moon full burns
Poem, ‘Dreams of Forgotten Love’, Extract:
Whispering echoes return from sleeping memory.
Sipping potions divine, drowning in forgotten loves glory.
Like the recognition of a long forgotten perfume,
Distant faces blotted; clear once more a bloom.
She is there lingering with lost affection,
The only light coming from re-surfaced emotion
Souls of dead poets, –
Seeking then resting like weary travelers,
In a fool’s paradise, unreal and decayed.
The forgotten flower of Love, withered without sunlight.
What’s the point of trying to keep it alive without light.
Like a never ending epitaph to a memory,
Your path has been too long and too hard to go back.
Leave your sour scars, forgive and forget yourself.
Fools gold to forgive all but yourself.