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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I don’t know that I agree with you, Michael, that praise without explanation is empty. Or, put another way, the praise lavished on the haiku is the kind of praise the haiku exemplifies: the love of a young man for a woman, the kind of love that finds her the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. It’s a response to a set of features that if the lover had to examine them might seem general, to apply to other beautiful women, but a common enough experience we have all had in our youth.
This is what I appreciate about the poem: the feeling of the contrast of “coming” to the beloved, an assertive, bold enough word, “full” being bulging, complete, assured, with the passivity of an “empty bowl.” The young man is filled with contents and feelings towards the beloved that he cannot enumerate or pin down precisely, but they are real, yet as real as dreams. Dreams are filled with shifting, endless imagery and meanings and yet they are empty of solidity and certainty. But, this is what such a young man’s feelings of love would be like: full and coming (sexual imagery, romantic imagery) that are only, at the moment fleeting, phantasms, empty of realization, like an empty bowl that one can imagine filled with anything one wishes, but not yet realized.
The poem has the feel to me of the Spanish Surrealists, Neruda, Borges, Lorca, Machado, to name a few. The haiku manages in such a few words to carry the weight of the Spanish poets’ love of love poems.
Anyway, that’s just an early morning take on it. Love cannot be explained and sometimes when it is it disappears; so that is what I conside the excellence of the haiku; it conjures much, it suggests much, and explanations just point and if looked at too closely would destroy what beauty is.
Jack, perhaps you could explain why you praise the poem? Such praise seems empty without explanation.
Thanks Jack and Laura for your kind compliments!
You are very nice!
Laura, you are so generous in bringing your dedication, experience and encouragement to this blog-workplace. In a selfish world like ours, you are one of a kind.
Maria, I am so glad you came to visit! There are so many amazing poets here.
You are absolutely right about capturing a moment. I have been focusing on that, too.
Thank you for sharing your haiku! I hope you continue to post more.
Mariu:
You might receive different responses regarding your haiku, but to me it is one of the finest, most beautiful haiku I have read in years. Has a touch of Borges to it.
Hi Laura! I’m a newcomer from Argentina.
I bumped into a Haiku compilation book of a Haiku contest conducted some years ago in schools in Argentina by Maria Kodama (argentinian but with japanese parents), writer and professor of literature, wife of famous argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges, and I was sudden and powerfully atracted by the haikus.
I’ve been writing poetry and short stories for a long time but I have never had the haiku experience.
I couldn’d help relating haikus with Twitter micropoetry, perhaps a postmodern version of ancient haikus.
Since I read the Kodama book, I started to write some Haikus myself, only in Spanish.
I have been thinking about the kigos. Just as we can break the 5-7-5 metric, for the purpose of poetry, I think we can also be excused for not using a kigo.
For what I have learned so far what really matters about haikus is the poetry of a moment, an instant.
Am I right is there something that I’m missing here?
Here is one of the haikus I’ve written:
Te espero llena,
como un cazo vacío
pleno de sueños.
It means something like, “I wait for you full, like an empty bowl filled with dreams.”
lol Where else would a kigo fit than where we live – Mars?
autumn on Mars?
not any more
sadly
…
— jp
http://www.facebook.com/haikucrossroads
Or maybe:
breast stroke echoes
the pine trees line an arm
of Lake Hiawatha
Just a thought.
Alan
Michael, I think I’ll just “aim” for 5-7-5 and not be too concerned with hitting it exactly. I appreciate your voicing your thoughts. It helps me.
Karen, thank you for sharing this site!
I’m in NC now and we went for a swim in a beautiful lake. I thought of you all as I swam out to the middle. I wrote this haiku:
pine trees line an arm
of Lake Hiawatha
breast stroke echoes
I tried to post the following with just the addresses but it didn’t come through:
http://terebess.hu/english/haiku/wright.html
http://www.amazon.com/Haiku-Other-World-Richard-Wright/dp/1559704454
Beautiful.
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