Quicksilver: the chronicles of a newcomer to the art of haiku
Quicksilver
Hg3
Learning About Seasonal Words
By Laura Sherman
One of the first things I learned about haiku is that each poem must contain a seasonal word. Sounded easy enough. I assumed that this was open to interpretation and that I could pick words that evoked different seasons for me.
As I studied further, I ran across the term “kigo.” Kigo is a Japanese seasonal word. These are set in stone. Students of haiku in Japan study a kigo dictionary, called a “saijiki,” to learn which words represent which seasons.
As I continued to explore this area I saw that some haiku poets branched from the kigo concept and sought seasonal words appropriate for their area. In a different discussion on Young Leaf #2 (here on troutswirl), I was intrigued by how seasonal words could vary depending on where you live in this world.
Lorin Ford pointed out that July is winter in Australia. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t considered that before. Since I live in Florida, I never thought of it as anything but a summer word (a very hot, humid, sticky seasonal word).
I see there is a debate between the traditional kigo approach and the seasonal word concept (which is a bit more open to interpretation). I plan to study both approaches more and learn from each.
I do have trouble sometimes finding an appropriate kigo or seasonal word for my haiku. I know it isn’t a haiku without one.
I have been working on two haiku that have stumped me. For me “sandy” speaks of summer, but I know it isn’t a kigo. Does it work as a seasonal word?
returning—
my sandy footprints erased
webbed ones remain
Then the other has been with me for a while. I love going to the beach and watching the sun touch the horizon. It’s a special moment for me. It is also a little sad when the moment is gone and the sun has set.
red sun touches
distant aqua line—
deflating
So, for me both haiku speak of summer, but I suspect neither has a seasonal word. How does one “insert” a seasonal word without losing the poetry? I could make Line 1 of the second haiku: “red summer sun touches.” Or perhaps, “august sun touches,” which might infer that summer vacation is over as well. I prefer the original, but suspect it isn’t a haiku.
Can you help me sort this out?
What do you do when you write a haiku, which doesn’t contain a seasonal word?
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Quicksilver is a column on troutswirl, the blog for The Haiku Foundation, devoted to showcasing the questions, ideas, and evolution of a beginner to the art of haiku, Laura Sherman. Each installment will feature some of Laura’s new work as well as her ideas and thought-processes concerning them. It is hoped that readers will respond with reactions, ideas, and advice on her work and provide feedback on how she might develop and improve her craft.
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Thanks Michael for the time spent on the syllable question. I’m fascinated by the question for several reasons.
I’ve many syllable counts utterly wrong, even with obvious one syllable words simply because of local/regional dialects both in Britain and the States.
Even I’m not impervious to it!
I’ve deliberately attempted a small number of 575ers just to try to show it can be done without padding and/or inversions or Dalekspeak etc…
Of course it’s the writing that always counts which is why I’m collecting a small number of “clean” 575s.
It’s a useful challenge to have a small handful of examples for workshops for teachers, children, and adults.
I can now use that haiku to show that even I got caught out.
The “form” of haiku isn’t the “form” which is why it’s frustrating to some “form conquerors”.
You add an interesting dimension to the argument that constantly prevails.
So many students caught at a young enough stage (years or attitude) are often relieved it isn’t a number crunching syllabic challenge: is that an oxymoron, number crunching syllables?
To know, for a student, that they know they can be free of this red herring is often palpable and releasing for their creative longterm adventure.
all my best, and appreciation for the care and thought for the discussion.
Alan, your Wicktionary reference is pointing to a diaphoneme (see an explanation at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IPA_chart_for_English, and also at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diaphoneme). A hyphen is typically used to indicate the syllable breaks, and no hyphen occurs in the example you cite. Instead, it’s a diaphoneme.
My understanding of such phonemes is that they are distinct from what is defined as a syllable (albeit in a slightly grey area). A syllable is defined as a sound, of course (not how a word is spelled, which is why “spelled” is just one syllable and “troubled” is two). In particular, Webster’s New World Dictionary (for a handy reference) defines a syllable as “a word or part of a word pronounced with a single, uninterrupted sounding of the voice.” Uninterrupted is key. Consanant sounds generally interrupt, vowel sounds generally don’t. Thus words such as “fire” and “field” and many others are correctly defined, in standard English, as single-syllable words. Sure, you CAN pronounce them as “fie urr” or “fee uld” but my understanding is that linguists would still count them each as single-syllable words.
Let’s assume, though, that they could be counted as either one or two syllables (for example, I don’t hear much difference between the typical pronunciations of “flower” vs. “flour,” presumably two and one syllables, respectively). If a given word can be pronounced as either one or two syllables, that goes to show, sharply unlike Japanese, how one’s intent or belief in counting syllables doesn’t necessarily match how others see it. Japanese, by contrast, is much more absolute and clear-cut on this point, in that all consonants are pronounced with a vowel sound, with a significant exception of the “n” sound at the end of a word, but even there it counts as a separate syllable (Japanese linguist Koji Kawamoto, in *The Poetics of Japanese Verse* uses the English word “sign” as an example — it would be counted in Japanese as THREE sounds (sigh-ya-n), whereas of course we count it as just one syllable).
I wish I knew more about linguistics, but really the point is that English isn’t as simple as syllable counters might think it is, and to me that’s another reason to steer clear of syllable counting for English-language haiku. Whatever discipline it might offer (or that might be offered by any other arbitrary syllable pattern) is, to me, purly a game. I believe there are bigger fish to fry in haiku.
Michael
Hi Laura,
I didnt exactly “stick with 5-7-5″ for ten years. A syllable count, and nothing more (at all) was all I knew of haiku and so that’s how I wrote them. No conscious choice to stick with that at all!
Rather, just ignorance that other options were possible, and especially ignorance that haiku had so many other vital strategies that I was never taught.
As for merit in English, I assert that 5-7-5 has no more merit than choosing another pattern, such as 3-5-3 or 4-6-4, or something less symmertrical. Consider it this way: Is 100 dollars equal to 100 yen? Well of course (a 5-7-5 person might say), because they’re both “100.” The problem is that merely the number is the same, without thinking about what is being counted (sounds in Japanese, which counts “haiku” as three sounds, or syllables in English, which counts “haiku” as two syllables). So to me there is ZERO virtue in choosing to write only 5-7-5 in English because it’s simply not the same as 5-7-5 in Japanese. The virtue, if any, lies in choosing ANY arbitrary syllable count and trying that out as a discipline. I heard Koko Kato in Japan use the metaphor of the dojo (sumo ring) for haiku — it’s what you do within the confines of the restriction that makes it art. Because of differences in language, our “dojo” can’t be the same size simply by counting out the same number of syllables to match their sounds. Instead, we can aim at other targets that are actually a much more stringent discipline, such as season words, cutting word equivalents, employing primarily objective sensory imagery, and organic form.
I think nearly all non-5-7-5 haiku writers have gone through their own periods of writing 5-7-5 first (I do mean practically all of us) — and overwhelmingly the progression is through or beyond 5-7-5 to other approaches — and I would say better approaches. Perhaps 5-7-5 might be thought of as training wheels. This doesn’t mean that anyone writing 5-7-5 is necessarily a beginner, of course, but 5-7-5 does seem to have functioned like training wheels for the great majority of haiku writers writing in English.
Michael
I honestly feel that I am making forward progress now. I can’t thank you all enough!
I need to get better at keeping single lines in my notebook. I tend to want to complete the haiku quickly, but see the value in letting it sit for a while.
“our shirts’ purple smudges”
Hang on to this, Laura.
You’ll find it of use later on. Note how ‘smudges’ might be either verb or noun here. (Think of it in terms of ink or anything else as well as shirts)
Hey Laura, I like the purple smudges, you must have really got stuck into collecting and gorging on them, I can’t blame you!
Laura,
Your latest revision has a good, clear caesura (end of L1) and Ls 2 & 3 flow in a natural, unforced way. I’d say you’re coming on in leaps and bounds.
There’ll be lots of inspiration on your vacation, too. Enjoy.
Arlene, I just want to clear up a point about English grammar with you. You’re by far not the first, so I hope you don’t mind. I wouldn’t like Laura or any other beginner to be confused on the subject.
“I would like the poems even better if they could be expressed without using the gerund form. Somehow (for me) the gerund seems to weaken the haiku.”
I think you’re referring to ‘circling’?
Unfortunately, I’ve found, many people learning haiku use the term gerund as if it were not a formal ‘part of speech’, like noun, verb, adjective, adverb, preposition, pronoun. But it is. They have formed some kind of consensus that just about any word ending with ‘-ing’ is a gerund. But that doesn’t make it so.
It’s easy to spot a gerund.If a word looks like a verb participle (eg: the 2nd word here- ‘ is circling’) but does the work of a noun in a sentence, it’s a gerund:
‘I asked my son to hang out the washing.’
‘Typing with a sore finger is difficult.’
‘He said he was a human being.’
‘The earth’s circling of the sun has continued for millions of years.’
Similarly, the following sentences ,which are in the continuous present tense, contain verb participles :
‘ I’m waiting for the mail.’
‘The seagulls are circling the pier.’
‘Circling’, in Laura’s ku, is an adjective, qualifying ‘seagull’. Like a gerund, it *looks* like a verb participle, but in context, it can’t be.. We know the parts of speech by their context in speech or written language.
So, to your point: do you mean that all words (gerunds, verb participles, nouns) ending with -ing weaken haiku? Or do you mean that using the present continuous tense weakens haiku?
An example of a ku in present continuous tense (though ‘listening’ should be centred, which it won’t be here once it’s posted):
sitting by the brisbane river
listening
to your muddy confessions
-Agniesza Niemira , from ‘haiku dreaming australia ‘
http://users.mullum.com.au/jbird/dreaming/ozku.html
our shirts’ purple smudges
Hi Laura!
the house that we rent
has wild blackberries
With a new image first line (no kigo needed) is already half a haiku!
Maybe just the NC locale is required to complete it?
Enjoy the vacation!
Alan
Hi, Arlene! Thanks for writing. I appreciate your encouragement and your suggestions. I am learning all the rules and am attempting to navigate through.
In addition Alan inspired me to write a new haiku about my local beach. It has been workshopped (you can see the progression through the last few pages of comments), which has been very helpful to me. Here is my latest version:
a cry rends the air
the circling seagull snags
her last cookie
Peter, I leave for a vacation to NC tomorrow. The house that we rent (but won’t rend) has wild blackberries all around it. I love the poem that you shared and will think of it as I splurge.
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