Feb 24 2009
Anybody for Haiku?
I know, who doesn’t haiku? I tend not to write poetry without at least a regular rhythm, especially if I want it to be funny (I know that sounds weird, but I have not way of explaining without the story taking over this entire blog)… but asking you to write a sonnet would result in NO comments from anybody. Even my devoted sister would probably write in a sonnet she’d already written, just to save time.
But a haiku can be done in relatively little time, for it’s short, simple, and has only a few rules. Traditionally, haiku:
1. Follow an exact rhythm along three lines–line 1 has five syllables, line 2 has seven, line 3 has five.
2. Cover one complete image at a time (remember, you only have 17 syllables to work with, anyway, so it would be silly to try to do too much).
Here’s an example, if the instructions seem too complicated (but if they really are too complicated, perhaps haiku writing isn’t for you after all):
Soft fur fluffed over
Smooth brown legs, restful slumber
Of girl and kitten.
Here’s another:
Waves ripple onward
Slipping past the brightest gold
Of April ducklings.
You could also try a funny one:
Pinkie ventures up
Into nostril, where green goo
Awaits fingertips.
What’s cool about haiku is that it can make any idea sound posh, even if it isn’t.
So that’s it… except I’m adding one requirement, just for this exercise: Your haiku must use a color. You pick the color, but it needs to be there. Notice how the three examples all have a color. You might want to skip colors like “vermilion,” since such colors, while sounding posh, also take a LOT of syllables.
Take two minutes, write up your own haiku, and post it. And post again if you think of something else. Who knows, I might think up a dozen more while I’m doing laundry today. Like this one:
White clothes, pristine, pure
Falter in the slurring swish
With red underwear.
Happy writing!
Purple in the snow,
A breath of springtime in an
Icy wilderness.
Gilded buttercups,
Sunny harbingers of spring
That beckon summer.
Sullen gray stormclouds,
Pregnant with icy rain, weep
On a dingy town.
Snow-white on velvet,
The moon’s the queen that rules night.
Her throne, star-strewn black.
This exercise fits in very nicely with my planned activiity on Thursday (if I don’t break down and do it earlier). By the way, in my whole life, I’ve never written a sonnet (and wouldn’t give you an old one and claim it’s new either).
Since I’ve done the assignment, I thought I’d point out that poetry is also an excellent venue for eliciting emotion and haiku’s are great at pathos.
Rosa was silent
Spirit flown on baby breath
Nevermore to laugh.
The letter is brief.
Black letters lost in her tears
He will not come back.
This yellow blanket
Once brightened a face, a soul,
Now an empty bed.
I especially love the one about the moon…
And I never said you’d claim the sonnet was new… no one every accurately called you a liar.
Actually, I wrote at least six sonnets to Richard the first year we dated… one for our first Valentine’s day, which was less than a month after our first date. It pretty much said I wanted to grow old with him. And it’s framed in our room, as it has been all these years.
Amazing he didn’t run away screaming…
You’re lucky. Lee would run away if I wrote him a sonnet now, or at least do some screaming…
“pinkie”
I concur with # stephanieebarr though I’ve found it often requires a different mindset. Sometimes, I have to take a ball bat to my internal editor to “write it real.”
trails of orange and red tulips
lead to her front door-
grandmother runs to meet me
Roxie
You are invited to sign the Recovery Wall
Ruby for a moment
Among the blue-flower vines
Beats air and departs.
Migrant through the void
Looking for your glory I can see
Just a streak of white.
(I had trouble getting color in the last one. Comets demand way too many syllables.)
Black tree all twisted,
A white cape for covering.
Bird; no place to rest.
(Can you tell I’m tired of winter?)
Look for a red door
You’ll find one just down the road
Does it surprise you?
A gaggle of girls
Giggles slip through the window
Pink ribbons in hair.
Roxie–yes, sometimes one has to break away from first tries… but I like the image you come up with, and the emotional association with it…
So cool, Ravyn… and the first one seemed to flit like a hummingbird… I appreciate the splash of color, just like Roxie’s. I said one color, but more than one tends to cheer me up.
Poor aw2500, you’re still in winter, just like me… but spring is coming…
And emmad, the second was especially fun because of the alliteration…a gaggle of giggling girls. I just said that out loud and my son burst out laughing (something tells me he’s going to appreciate a good joke all his life, and appreciate word play.
Seems as if a lot of you appreciate word play! And so do I…
Pathos and color (or lack of it)!
Beside the headstone
She looked on a faded world
Devoid of color.
Or, perversely,
Touched with fairy light,
Precious as baby’s laughter,
The bubble floated.
(You’ll notice I’m ignoring color even though I MEAN to put it in) Alright, focusing…
Verdant fingers push
Their way through a white blanket;
A flower is born.
God, I really am a great poet.
And SO humble!
OK, no colors, but DAMN, my daughter’s a pretty hot poet, too. I’m overshadowed.
As always, Stephanie, your humility astounds me most of all…
And Stephie, your take on it the color thing–turning it to temperature (a more tactile and less visual prompt) was also brilliant.
Snow’s on the ground this morning. Perhaps it’s time for another haiku:
White seems soft blanket
But try to warm one’s fingers
And the chill is pain.
I thought your’s were great, Stephanie
of course then I saw The Youngers…. wow …especially the first one…. she is mighty talented