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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Jack,
Thank you for reminding me of the importance of retaining me in all of this. I do recognize that there are differing opinions and so I try to absorb it all and use what I can and what I agree with (which changes over time as I progress).
The writers here have been very generous and patient with me, as well as encouraging. It has been an amazing experience for me.
Ultimately I hope that this article series inspires others to learn about haiku. I think some get intimidated by the rules and as a result they may never try to write haiku. Perhaps if they see my attempts and hear the advice, they may venture forward and create!
Thank you, Laura. That was a poem written about 10 years ago. I write differently now, less “traditionally.”
You are right that personal feedback is helpful.
For me, there is a problem with it, though, and it explains why I have not been an active participant in this blog.
As you’ve well seen, there are as many views of what is expected in haiku as there are haiku writers. There is some overlapping and similarities in views, but what you get for the most part is the personal taste, opinion, belief, knowledge of the person giving the feedback. And, it is not presented that way, but is more often than not presented as a set of rules, as a list of what is forbidden, as a testament.
In Japan, there are thousands of haiku groups, each led by an experienced practitioner. However, I assume that those who join each group do so either because of geographical proximity or more importantly because of a shared view of what constitutes haiku.
As I wrote haiku from the beginning 11 years ago, I had no mentor, only the available books on the subject and a limited contact with the few editors of the available journals.
I wrote essentially according to the models presented until I felt that they were constraining and based themselves on tidbits picked up from Japanese writers who had been translated on the subject; certainly, not all of the understanding available on it.
I then moved away from the ELH groups and spent a good 7 years working with Ban’ya Natsuishi. I learned a good deal from him indirectly, mostly by polishing haiku written by him, his wife, and others of the Ginyu group.
But, I always retained a personal style, regardless of what anyone said (unless, of course, I agreed with them). My best work, if I can speak of it as best, was created from out of myself, as I was more interested in the interrelationship between subject/object then in any idea of an “objective” outside world.
I start each poem from nothing, from no preconceived idea of what a haiku should be;it makes it harder to write this way, but writing by a matrix doesn’t suit me.
I certainly hope that many of the helpful suggestions you have received on this blog have expanded your knowledge and practice; I’m sure they have. On the other hand, I certainly hope that your work hasn’t been stymied by any axiom put forth by anyone; that would be a terrible shame.
I wish you well in your pursuit of your own style of haiku; may it turn out brilliantly!
Jack,
I understand your concerns. This particular article series is quite an experiment and experience! I can tell you that for me it is helpful to get feedback. There is really only so much one can grow with pure study and practice and no outside input. Hearing your thoughts should help Mariu.
By the way, I love you haiku:
Sunday afternoon—
a rake strikes a shard
in the stillness
No need to apologize, Laura. If she goes by the name Maria on Linkedin perhaps you were right about it being a typo. I had no way of knowing. Since she said in her post that she wrote poetry and fiction before writing haiku, I tried to find her work online, but failed. So, I only went with what knowledge I had.
Hi, Jack! Yes, that would seem rather presumptuous of me, now wouldn’t it. Actually I met her on Linkedin, where she goes by “Maria,” so I did make the assumption it was a typo, but perhaps I was in error. I see that perhaps I was. I apologize.
And, as an aside, Mariu is a Spanish name, so it might not be a typo at all. I only realized it might be a woman’s name by searching on the internet and finding a couple of references to Mariu described as she. So, I wouldn’t change her name, assuming it is a woman, without her permission. It is her name, after all.
Well, Laura, your point is well taken. However, I’m not sure it is possible to teach anyone how to create a poem with so much suggestiveness, overtones, symmetry, and emotion.
Firstly, there is a paucity of poems in our tradition that speak of romantic love,particularly of a love at the cusp of becoming. To say, for instance, that to choose the right words to express the emotion one wishes to evoke goes without saying, yet to create the line “I wait for you full” manages to combine an active passivity with pregnancy of meaning (“full”), of seeming discordance, since we usually associate waiting for something, not having, and yet the word “full” suggests completion (a completion that is subjectively there). Then, to allure the reader to the comparison of this state of being to an empty bowl filled with dreams is a singular achievement; the narrator is filled with phantasmagoria, real yet not real, empty but not empty. The narrator awaits the fulfillment of her state of being filled with dreams, anticipating, in love, that the reality will conform to the dreams.
One could say that one should find objective correlatives for states of being expressed in haiku/poetry, but we already know this; one could say we don’t use words like “like,” as juxtaposition already implies this, but there are so many exceptions to this that I, for one, would never tell a writer that, as it depends on the individual poem.
How would you teach someone to contrast full and filled in the way this haiku does, so that they relate so well and are not redundant?
While teaching or recommending is valuable, I generally avoid it, for fear of impeding the real development of a writer.
Jack, her name is actually Maria (the “u” is a typo). (It is an error that will continue if you don’t correct it, as the name field will stay filled in on the blog comment section for each participant)
Although you’re right that no one needs to justify their response to a work, I believe Michael was requesting your thoughts so that we can all learn. After all Quicksilver is all about the journey of learning to write haiku.
I think I might also have confused the gender of the poet; Mariu may be a woman’s name, whereas I thought it was a man’s name.
Nevertheless, the poem still stands well, only from another perspective.
Now, I would be reminded of a young woman’s psyche, somewhat like how Jung described the woman’s counterpart, the dream lover, or ghostly lover. A different take, but still a beautiful poem.
Excuse my error; the poem begins with “wait” not “comes.” I think comes would be a better choice, would strengthen the contrasts in the poem. Still, the waiting is an active word as it suggests anticipation, breathlessness, a state not of passivity so much as agitation.
But to say, as I’m sure we all have at one time or another, that’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, is to be taken by something, enraptured, and the poem has this quality for me.
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