Sails is a section of troutswirl that is devoted to presenting questions for discussion and debate on the nature and possibilities of haiku. Sails will be overseen by Peter Yovu. For an introduction to this section, see Sails.
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. . . 5th Sailing . . .
presented by Peter Yovu
Sound?
The word seems a question unto itself. Composed of at least five sounds, it involves most of the mouth to say it. Comprising at least four distinct meanings, each with a separate etymology, its presence alone on the page leaves one uncertain if it refers to something which can be heard, to a sea channel, to health or to probing the depths. That is, until it is given context, and even then, all its meanings will swirl around it, and into us.
The context here is primarily sound as something heard and something made. So one question that arises is, how important to you is sound as a quality in haiku? How strong a factor is it in how you compose your poems, and in your enjoyment in reading them? Do you edit with sound in mind? We often celebrate the senses, and seek their renewal with haiku, but do you value the taste of words themselves and what they make your mouth do? (The poet Donald Hall refers to this pleasure as “milktongue”). Or do you regard it as a poetic device to be downplayed, or avoided?
As always, I encourage you to find your own point of entry into this Sailing. But what I would encourage most, is that you (and I will do the same) present for our pleasure and consideration a haiku (or two, or three) which you feel is greatly enhanced by the play of sound, whose meaning perhaps, is inseparable from its body. Can you say a thing or two about it? I look forward to seeing which haiku you choose to show us, and to the sounds you make on the subject of sound.
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Oh, Lorin, It’s amazing to me that something so familiar to me as a quahog could be called “exotic” …delicious, maybe…yet words from countries like Australia are “exotic” to my ears, and yet so familiar to my friends from Oz…
John Stevenson’s reminder that we need to be cognisant of the different sounds in the different regional areas of the English-speaking world is a good one.
The old ‘tomaytoes/ tomahtoes’ difference is only a beginning. . .
Regional words/ phrases will always have a place in authentic writing, even if at first they seem ‘exotic’ . Here’s one containing an ‘exotic’ regional word that puzzled me until I researched it and made myself somewhat familiar with it. I was then was able to come to an appreciation of the haiku and realise that this word and no other was the best for the purpose:
unemployed
the uneven edge
of a quahog shell
paul m.
I think that John Stevenson’s comment bears a bit of weight for me here. I’ve noticed that US haiku contests seem to find foreign phrases intriguing. As if the unfamiliar phrase custs through the repetition of what we hear ever day. Regional phrases also seem to have the same intrigue. Has anyone else felt this way?
When writing a poem, haiku-derived or otherwise, I notice that I have a tendency to favor sound effects over other possibilities. One way of saying this is that I get mesmerized by a beautiful body, one curve rhyming with and amplifying another, convexities playing with concavities, and settle there, as in a graceful hollow held by the sound of soughing pines but ignoring that there is no water nearby.
An example is a poem I am working on now. As it sits in my notebook, it ends with the word “upstairs” which pleases me because it has a strong sound-correspondence with a word which comes earlier. I have trained myself, but not too Pavlovially I hope, to believe that body (sound and rhythm) trumps everything, that things like meaning, nuance, undercurrent etc. can take care of themselves. (Many a marriage has foundered on this belief).
And I still believe that there is a way of working with poetry which requires such faith, and can benefit from it, but a certain wisdom, and intelligence and (I don’t know the word right now) is also needed sometimes. So in my example, I need ultimately to de-trance myself from the delights of the body and consider whether another word ( not “upstairs”) is what is really needed.
I am not going to provide the entire poem here, so this is not about getting advice, at least not right now, but I want to keep this Sailing open a bit. The blog, frankly, and from my strictly personal perspective, is getting to be a bit of a closed circuit, with little jolts of electricity coming in from here and there prompting a shout or two that quickly fades.
Maybe it’s enough.
moored. forget it, I am going back to bed.
I have so much respect for Peggy, that I told her that I never submitted anything to the Nest until she became an associate editor, and I ment that.
that should have been “one,” and not: on
well, this never went anywhere:
New Years Eve. . .
on junk mored
more junk bobbing
we have: Peter, Paul, & all we need is Mary.
cool, a “pintail” poem! Am not sure why I am not
getting mail any longer, but I am not getting mail.
Personally, I would feel that “sound” would be important to any form, regardless of genre. “Haiku” is an oral genre. Actually,
a “marsh hawk,” is a Harrier. [sorry].
“sound” can come from anything, even implied sound, to a hard Ee.
Indian summer–
a bee bounces around
in the beer can
Originally published: the heron’s nest, then whatever NR6 did with this.
“rhythm,” is mind set, a state of awareness, which can be achieved by feel. Feel the image!
Mull it over in you mind. Taste it.
I would never consider myself as a minimalist, but
most of my haiku are 10 syllables or less and I do not count syllables.
Berlin wall
a smooth stone
in my pocket
You cannot hear the sound within this poem? Bill
[Higginson] said it reminded him of David & Galiath.
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