Anna Goluba’s dreamcatcher

Abandoned house
The dreamcatcher still hangs
In the children’s room

— Anna Goluba (Poland)
Published in Haikuniverse, March 7, 2019

Commentary

I appreciate the mystery (yūgen) of why the house is abandoned. Was it because of physical damage to the house itself that forced the family to move? Or, was it due to other socio-economic factors that the family relocated? The mystery (yūgen) of the abandoned house provides some space for the reader. The dreamcatcher also provides space for the reader’s imagination.

I always appreciate the symbolic importance of the dreamcatcher. According to Indigenous Peoples, the circular shape of the dreamcatcher represents the circle of life and symbolizes that there is no beginning or end. Dreamcatchers are also made of natural materials that reflect the close bond Indigenous Peoples have with the Earth. The web of the dreamcatcher is meant to catch the bad dreams and allow the good dreams to pass through to the person sleeping. In this way, the dreamcatcher is like a spider’s web that filters out negativity. Some dreamcatchers are also decorated with beads, gems, and/or stones, which give them positive energy. Lastly, feathers are also sacred to Indigenous Peoples and are found in dreamcatchers. Feathers symbolize protection, healing, and a connection with the divine.

I appreciate how this haiku transports readers back into childhood. I think a child’s imagination paired with the realm of dreams is very effective. I also feel compassion for the child who was forced to move from the house, for unknown reasons. I think of the dreams the child had when they lived in the house.

In short, this is a haunting and mysterious haiku that serves as an effective portal into the reader’s childhood, their first home, and their dreams. An excellent haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

The kigo or seasonal reference in this haiku is not obvious or is nonexistent. However, there is a melancholy feel to the poem; so, I would probably place this haiku in autumn. It’s fine if a haiku does not have an explicit kigo; in Japan, haiku without a seasonal reference (muki haiku) have been popular for about 100 years now.

There is no punctuation in this haiku (an approximation of kireji), yet there is a clear grammatical shift after line one. In English-language haiku, the capitalization of words is not common, though. However, the poet is from Poland, and the haiku community there might have different ideas about the capitalization of words. There is nothing wrong with it and is understandable due to many poets thinking each line of a poem should begin with a capital letter.

The combination or association of parts in the haiku works in stark fashion. The pull between emptiness and the energy/action of the dreamcatcher creates a poignant mood and scene. The ending line enhances the poignancy of the imagery even further.

Looking at the sound of the haiku, I admire the usage of the letter “h.” It’s an uncommon letter to use in succession in poetry, I believe. “h” gives an emphasis at the end of the first and second lines. It also gives strength to the third line as well.

In terms of pacing, this poem follows the conventional short/long/short rhythm in English-language haiku that approximates the rhythm of Japanese haiku. Looking closer at the words used, “the” employed for both subjects “dreamcatcher” and “children’s room” was a smart choice, as both subjects deserve proper respect.

Overall, this haiku combines elements of melancholy, hope, spirituality, and more. Without a word out of place, the poem is effective and touching.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Rebel Rose Artistry

Kat Lehmann’s forest stream

an answer without end quotes the forest stream

— Kat Lehmann (USA)
Published in Frogpond 46:2, 2023

Commentary

I greatly appreciate how the answer in this monoku is open-ended and ongoing vs. definitive. I think sometimes the best answer is not-knowing and living in the mystery. 

Another interpretation is that even if there is an answer, there is space to be more flexible and open-minded (i.e. the answer itself is changing or capable of changing). This also shows that, despite our knowledge, there is a lot we don’t know.

I also appreciate how we don’t know the question in this monoku. This makes the poem very versatile and applies to many different questions and situations. It seems asking questions in general is often a sign of humility. Byron Katie once said: “I don’t know is my favorite position.”

The vitality of a forest stream could be a metaphor for the flow of consciousness when we are not stuck or attached to rigid thoughts, living in the constant flow of “now.” In addition, biologically, we are mostly water. It seems if more people lived like a forest stream, we would live in a much more beautiful world. “Without end quotes” also seems to speak to the continuity of life and could speak of reincarnation or a spiritual river that flows on into the afterlife. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

Thinking about the kigo or seasonal reference, it is not exactly clear, as forest streams could be present during many times of the year. However, spring and fall are common times for flowing forest streams in the poet’s part of the world. The poem flows homogeneously like a stream represented as one line. I would vie for spring, as “an answer without end” illustrates the abundance of that season.

There is no punctuation in the haiku, but there are definite ways to section the parts:
1. an answer/without end quotes, the forest stream
2. an answer without end quotes/the forest stream
3. an answer without end/quotes the forest stream

…and possibly more.

This makes it a task to choose just one interpretation, but it also gives it more breadth. The association between the words creates interesting readings, such as between “without end” and “stream”; “quotes” and “steam” (both small but integral), etc. A reader can easily sit and investigate this haiku for a good while without feeling the need to move on.

An important part of this haiku is its sound. The standout letters are “o” and “t.” The flowing “o” matches well with the subject of a stream, and “t” provides a sense of the stream’s power, in my opinion.

I like that the poet did not shy away from the possibility of surrealism. Often, westerners have the false idea that haiku needs to be written with objective realism or as an objective sketch. Subjectivity has been a cornerstone of Japanese poetics, and haiku, since its inception. Sometimes, westerners confuse the “sketch from life” approach that Shiki proposed with strict objectivity when he rather focused on writing from one’s life experiences and occurrences (including individual feelings).

This is a haiku to make you ponder and perhaps create your own meaning with. Original, imaginative, and verging on the surreal, this poem has a lot to offer.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Painting done by AI.

Alice Wanderer’s summer refuge

Haiku: Alice Wanderer (Australia)
Photography: Di Cousens (Australia)

Commentary

Refugees, seeking a safer place to live, demonstrate the strength and resilience of the human spirit. In this haiku, it is the scent of a refugee (or refugees) that we recognize in their absence. The word “perfume” seems to entail a strong scent that lingers. This haiku could also symbolize humility and frugality. With very few possessions, it seems refugees don’t leave many (if any) material objects behind. This makes me think: on our brief human journey of a lifetime, what are we leaving behind? What do we want to leave behind?

In turn, it seems the presence of a kind and compassionate human being is a gift that stretches far beyond material wealth. In the end, physically, we are all visitors on this Earth. The steps in the photo could be a symbol of human striving or steps in human growth/evolution. I think the long journey of refugees both spiritually and physically can redefine what truly is home. 

— Jacob D. Salzer

First, I would like to say that I enjoy the shading and light in the photograph. Also, the textures in the wall and steps make it an intriguing capture. The font for the haiku is appropriate for the subject matter and matches the atmosphere of the photograph.

The seasonal reference (kigo) is in the first line with “summer refuge.” We can guess that the summers where this haiku takes place are exceptionally hot. It might even be in a desert. The poet and photographer being both from Australia can make readers think it might be in the Australian outback. This photograph could indeed be a summer refuge made by Australian Aboriginals to combat the outback heat. In this context, the last line referencing possible ancestors could gain more meaning.

There is no punctuation in the haiku (kireji), but there is a clear delineation of the two parts of the poem by a grammatical shift from the first and second lines.

How the two parts of the haiku combine and interact (toriawase) is pleasant in its melancholy. With summer being a happy and chill time, in this space of sanctuary, there are the remnants of ancestors. Whether this is a joyous or sad happening is up to the reader. “Perfume” is used interestingly in this haiku, as the poet could have easily written “scent.” “Perfume” is a much more endearing word that could have multiple meanings. But overall, this haiku could have an intermixing of emotions or be about a silent celebration of ancestors still with us.

Looking at how the lines are laid out, the pacing approximates the Japanese traditional rhythm of short/long/short.

The diction is in line with haiku principles of simplicity and brevity. It is also important that the poet left space for the reader to ponder through her choice of words.

In terms of sound, the letter “r” is especially important. With four instances and in every line, “r” gives a hard edge to the haiku that connects to the walls and steps in the photo.

Ultimately, this photo haiku (shahai) expresses inexplicable emotions with grace. Though the image and haiku might be endemic to Australia, it is written in a universal way.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Jacob D. Salzer’s long journey

a long journey . . .
in mother’s clothing
the scent of snow

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)
(published in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 7:1, Autumn/Winter 2023)

Commentary by the poet

In this haiku, I primarily wanted to honor my mother and her long Earth journey (and her soul’s journey, if readers are open-minded to past lives and reincarnation). I am also writing about my mother going for a long walk in the snow and carrying the “outside” into the house. The scent of snow in her coat lingers. I’m also recognizing the long journey of falling snow, as snow falls from miles above us to reach the Earth. I hope this haiku can act as a portal for the reader to reflect on their own mother and her unique journey.

Commentary by the other editors

This haiku sounds simple but carries many stories of life’s journey. A long journey describes a period that may last more than a year or a lifetime. But, it signifies the essence of a trip that has ups and downs, and deep personal experiences. The ellipses stop us for a while and let us ponder the various aspects or types of journeys. I see it as a life’s journey that has myriad phases and stages where the person continuously passes through experiences within the self and with other people.

The second line tells us about the traveller but it still doesn’t show whether she is the one who carries the clothing or is having a long journey. It may have two interpretations. One is that she passes through rigorous experiences i.e. departure, separation, illness, loneliness, etc. The second interpretation would be that someone close to her carries her clothes as a possession.

The last line depicts deep feelings, as the smell of snow can mean something went as cold as snow and leaves painful memories. Another aspect can be the smell of a person that comes from the clothes and the poet may take it as the smell of snow, akin to the lingering memories of a loved one. In both cases, the person remains discreet in expressing their feelings and tries to relate those emotions with the scent of snow, which does not make a sound.

— Hifsa Ashraf

Thinking about the seasonal reference in this haiku, “the scent of snow” is clearly directed at winter. However, a residue of snow could mean that winter has passed and that spring has come. So, the poet could be reexperiencing winter in the time of spring. This could symbolize how the poet feels about his mother’s life or even his life reflected by the one that brought him existence.

The two parts of the haiku combine well in that duration is present in each section. “Long” and “scent” both work to illustrate time passing by. “Journey” relates well to the implied cycle of seasons. With our phases as personalities, they can be representative of seasons—though one season can carry remnants of another season in it. The poet could be referring to how memory sticks to our personalities and in direct connection to his mother, it could mean that his mother has memories “too cold” to burn away.

With the punctuation, which delineates the two-part structure of the haiku, the ellipsis illustrates the duration of the journey. It also makes certain that the reader does not inadvertently read the second line as flowing from the first line.

The pacing emulates the traditional rhythm of Japanese haiku without the restriction of the syllabic count, which is often cited as an erroneous method of matching the format of Japanese haiku. The short/long/short practice is closer to the original haiku rhythm.

Looking at the sound, the letter that jumps out at the reader is “o.” Strewn throughout the poem, it gives a sense of elongation with the long syllables. In my opinion, it also heightens the emotional resonance of the subject of the haiku.

The way human life intermixes with nature in this haiku makes it special. It creates pathos and perhaps something verging on the surreal. A relatable, yet transcendent haiku.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Winter Scene by Louis Remy Mignot, 1856

Michael Dudley’s prized canary

lockdown raised
  at sunrise he releases
       his prized canary

— Michael Dudley (Canada)
(27th Kusamakura International Haiku Contest, Second Prize)

Commentary

I appreciate the notion of freedom and non-attachment in this haiku. I also appreciate the shift in perspective from a confined space to the limitless sky. What was once highly valued and clung to is now released. It seems giving space is a gift in itself, and I admire how our attention shifts from what is seen to what is unseen in this poem. In turn, maybe the very notion of “mine” is released with the canary, as this beautiful bird returns to their true home outside of human civilization. Perhaps by releasing the sense of “me” and “mine,” we can rediscover our spiritual home as well. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

This haiku in a cascading style makes me think about its formation before I interpret it. It seems the person wants to convey a specific message through this style that can be read both horizontally and somehow vertically. The cascading style stops us so that we read the poem step by step before reaching a conclusion. I see it as if something is going down or ending nowhere.

Lockdown raised but what? It could be anxiety, uncertainty, frustration, or something that has a great impact on the person’s life that is being referenced. The past tense at the end of line one stresses the grave effects of the tense situation due to the lockdown. The sudden shift to the present in line two shows how smoothly the person has gotten over what he has been going through (maybe for a long time). 

The sunrise brings hope and warmth to one’s thoughts and feelings. We can feel the way the sunrise provides a sense of relief or healing. I see it as if the person is liberated after having a change in thoughts or has detached himself from what he may hold dear. This line stands alone, where one can try to guess what the whole story is.

The prized canary may have an association with the person’s life in terms of honour, achievement, memorable event, etc. But, it also symbolizes a hope for the future where the person in question has stepped over the barrier of attachment and possession. If it is a pet bird, then releasing it at the time of a lockdown is the realization of freedom, which often comes through rigorous life experiences. 

— Hifsa Ashraf

If we try to figure out the season this haiku is placed in, it is not so easy. However, if I had to pick one, it would be spring. Not only is it a season with less disease (“lockdown raised”), but it is also the time when canaries are more active. Spring, in addition, symbolizes a new life—corresponding well with “sunrise” and “releases.”

The two parts of the haiku can be delineated from the grammatical pause after the first line, or even after “at sunrise.” So, punctuation is not quite needed.

The association between the words “raised” and “releases” is quite deliberate, I feel. Furthermore, the color of the sunrise and the canary are most likely similar, if not yellow. Both the canary and the sunrise are not only colorful but also bring hope and pack a punch though one lasts a short time (sunrise) and one is small (the canary).

The spacing of the lines brings about a sense of release and perhaps steps to that letting go. However, the lines still approximate the traditional rhythm of haiku in Japanese in terms of syllables with a short first line, a longer second line, and a shorter last line.

In terms of sound, the haiku prominently features the letter “i” in “raised,” “sunrise,” and “prized.” Through this sound, it creates a starker mood for the haiku and points to the importance of the canary.

With a unique format, the implication of color, a keen sense of sound, and relatable kindness, this haiku deserves study and ponderance.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

“The illustrated book of canaries and cage-birds, British and foreign” (1878) Public Domain

John Pappas’ returning geese

returning geese
a few more pebbles
on her headstone

— John Pappas (USA)

Commentary

I appreciate the message of returning to the headstone of someone who was well-loved. I like how returning speaks of the cycles of the seasons as well. I also see the small pebbles as symbols of humility and modesty. The pebbles that were already there could have been placed by the poet last year or over several years, and/or some of the pebbles could have been placed by other people who knew and loved the person.

In addition, by returning to their headstone, we are reminded of our limited time here in a single human life. This puts our lives into perspective, which I think is much needed in today’s modern world. I often think cemeteries can help us reflect and reevaluate our lives and our values.

I also like the first line very much because it depicts a migration. In turn, I believe our souls are also migrating and will go to another dimension after death. The well-known saying: “Birds of a feather flock together” also comes to mind when I read this haiku. It seems the poet resonates with the energy of the person who passed away, and their spirit lives on, in many ways. I can feel a unity of spirits or souls and a deep, prevailing silence in this poem. A beautiful haiku.

— Jacob D. Salzer

A very deep and thought-provoking haiku that tells the story of our short-lived journey in this world. Returning geese depict a migration or departure to another place temporarily and coming back to a place where they belong. It leaves us with a few questions: is it the departure and return of loved ones of the deceased person who was buried? Is it the departure of war victims who left without their loved ones (maybe dead in a war) and came back after peace? Is it a spiritual journey where one thinks more about annihilation and our short life span? Is it the time when someone comes back after feeling the absence of a deceased person?

I take it as an inner journey when a person, after having a lot of harrowing experiences that usually keep them away from their essence, comes back and finds the whole journey nothing but anonymity and annihilation. The obvious interpretation of this poem may be the death that symbolizes more of what is being missed about “her.” Is she a significant person in many ways? A few more pebbles on her headstone may be taken as her identity after death or the way one tries to pay tribute to her in a modest way.

In short, this haiku to me is about oscillating between life and death symbolically, where a person moves between outer and inner selves, with their life experiences pushing and pulling them towards their end.

— Hifsa Ashraf

Pinning down the season referred to in the first line is not so easy, but “returning” is most likely pointing to when geese come back to their nesting sites after winter. This means that the first line could be a kigo (seasonal reference) for late February to early March, but it depends on the region. In Boston, where the poet resides, Canadian geese can be seen almost any time of the year. 

There is no punctuation in this haiku, but the cut between the two parts of the poem is felt after the syntactical shift at the end of line one. I can imagine an ellipsis being used on the first line but it is not needed for the poem to work. 

How the two parts combine is intriguing. I think the key word is “returning” as it can easily relate to the pebbles being put on the headstone. The headstone is most probably made of a type of rock, and the pebbles being laid there either by natural circumstances or by human intervention connects to “returning” well. The pebbles could also be an indication of the headstone coming apart and slowly going back to its original form found in nature. Lastly, I can just as well imagine the geese dropping pebbles on the headstone—though unlikely.

In terms of sound, the letter “r” features strongest in my eye. The effect is that it has a “pulling” sound which matches with the idea of returning. In addition, the letter “e” provides elongated syllables that connect to the sense of “a few more.”

Finally, the pacing of the haiku fits the standard for English-language haiku with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line. This approximates the rhythm of traditional Japanese haiku.

This haiku has a fine sense of mystery and imagery, which allows readers to interact with the content on different levels.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

“Mud Season” by John Sloane

Ian Gwin’s faceless flowers

faceless flowers how
to mind this flesh and bone
in an age of steam

— Ian Gwin (USA)

Commentary

The initial message I received in this haiku is a warning to not become another “gear in the machine” in a modern capitalistic society that seems to promote conformity and the accumulation of material objects. “Faceless flowers” seems to be a metaphor for perhaps certain workers who may, unfortunately, not feel truly valued or seen. However, I also read “faceless flowers” to perhaps mean some people are ignoring Nature. I wonder if this haiku is saying that it’s difficult to see some people’s unique individuality through the steam of modernity that can sometimes cloud our vision. 

This reminds me of a chapter in the novel A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle where all the suburban houses look the same and all the children are bouncing balls on their driveways at the same time, much like robots. The children also all went inside their houses at the same time, on a precise schedule. Later on in the novel, it was discovered that a large brain was controlling the actions of the people on this planet. This telling symbol of mental conditioning seems to relate to this haiku. The mention of steam also brings to mind steam engines in trains and their environmental consequences. 

“How to mind this flesh and bone” seems to translate as: “How can I take care of myself in mind, body, and spirit within modern society and feel a true sense of belonging?” It seems this is something many of us strive for and struggle with to some degree. This body that is made of the Earth’s elements seems to be disconnected from the Earth in a concrete city. As a result, do some people sometimes feel like “faceless flowers?” Are we being conditioned to believe modern city life is “normal?” Do the majority of people truly believe that “more is better?” Are we often blind to the origins of the products that we buy? Do we pay too much attention to marketing? Have our values largely shifted to a productivity-based model that ignores creativity? These are the questions that come to mind when I read this haiku. It’s a powerful poem that faces the subjects of identity, our values in modern society, and our connection and/or disconnection with Nature.

— Jacob D. Salzer

This haiku has some traditional phrasing we don’t see often these days. Through its phrasing, it presents streaks of modernity and dystopia, showing a world that is transforming from the traditional to the modern era with the sense and love for nature gradually degrading.

I see the faceless flowers as a lack of communication and connection with what is happening due to a fast-paced life. People are more involved in the artificiality of things and becoming akin to robots who keep on striving for success and satisfaction. In reality, they are far away from their essential nature.

— Hifsa Ashraf

The haiku’s season could be placed in spring with the reference to “flowers” as a kigo. However, flowers bloom in several seasons.

This haiku displays unique phrasing and line breaks, with “how” sticking out on the first line and no comma before it. The sound of the line works well and puts focus on the question. You can say the “cut” (kireji) is invisible before “how” but it is syntactically evident while reading.

How the two parts of the haiku combine (toriawase) creates perhaps a comparison between humanity’s loss of identity through industrialization and the faceless faces of flowers. Essentially, through technology and our actions, we have become cogs that somehow have to maintain ourselves despite dehumanization.

Like Hifsa noted, the diction of this haiku is intriguing, especially in the second line. Also, the sound made by the letter “f” manifests a sharp resonance that matches the bitter mood. The last line has softer sounds to perhaps make a somber effect.

Ian Gwin has crafted a fresh haiku with creative phrasing, diction, and symbolism.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

The Engineer’s Handy Book, 1884, Stephen Roper

Samo Kreutz’s thousand ways

kid’s bed
a thousand ways
to disappear

— Samo Kreutz (Slovenia)
(previously published in THF Haiku Dialogue, December 2022)

Commentary

I greatly appreciate the imaginative space of this haiku. This haiku transports readers into books, stories, and dreams. As a child, my parents would read to my sister and I. These are wonderful memories that I cherish. It seems in our modern world, it can be easy to forget the imagination, but when we do this, I think we all pay the price. I feel our imagination is important because it opens our hearts and minds, and can lead to many different perspectives and creative ideas.

I feel “a thousand ways to disappear” is a great way to express being completely immersed in a book, story, or dream. 

This is a touching haiku that shows the power of the imagination, stories, and dreams.

— Jacob D. Salzer

A lovely haiku that covers the stories of almost every person as a child. It shows the tangible and intangible aspects of life where a child’s bed is taken as a symbol of relief where one seeks solace and catharsis. The bed helps a child to become calm and have an uninterrupted environment where they can play, sleep, dream, and listen to stories. It’s a place that takes them to another world where they can freely think, feel, and do whatever they want.

It’s a domain where there are a thousand ways to see life differently when they are on their own and where all senses converge to provide a holistic perspective that is calm and content. Adults might desire to disappear into childhood memories, to feel nostalgic, or to have deep imagination/daydreaming that keeps them away from this chaotic world. I see this as an escape from reality where a person goes back to their childhood and gets lost in a time that was carefree and without responsibilities.

— Hifsa Ashraf

There is no distinct kigo or seasonal reference here. That is fine, especially since it can fit in the genre of senryu. There is a time placement of early childhood, though.

The way the two parts of the poem fit together is intriguing. Something as overlooked as a kid’s bed as an adult is given special appreciation. The word “disappear” is the most crucial, in my opinion. It connects to both adult and child selves. The juxtaposition in this haiku or senryu reminds me of the saying, “From one, comes many.”

There is no punctuation in the poem besides the needed apostrophe. This gives more of a case for fitting in the senryu genre. However, the line between haiku and senryu, especially in English, is often rather thin.

The pacing, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line, is common practice in the English-language haiku world to approximate the Japanese rhythm of haiku.

The concision in which the poem is written is commendable. The poet uses just the right amount of words with the most effective phrasing. It is fitting for such a simple, yet poignant subject. The chosen diction is on point as well for the mood of the poem.

The sound of the letter “d” in this poem is key. It provides weight to the poem and a staccato rhythm, which connects to “thousands” in an abstract way.

With a mastery of simple power, the poet delivers a nostalgic and perhaps melancholic form of celebration.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

BEDROOM IN ARLES | THE BEDROOM | 1889 | VINCENT VAN GOGH

Chittaluri Satyanarayana’s river bed

river bed
the sound of water still
beneath my feet

— Chittaluri Satyanarayana (India)
(published in haikuKATHA on 11/13/2022)

Commentary

The river bed in this haiku could still be wet or dry. Perhaps both the river bed and the poet carry the memory of the river. It’s interesting to note that human beings are mostly water. Indeed, there are many rivers inside of us. As we carry memories, it seems water too carries memories, though I appreciate how a river is timeless because the water is always flowing. I think this haiku could be about drought, possibly due to climate change. Against this sad sight, I’m also filled with hope that the landscape will be revitalized with the flowing river once again.

— Jacob D. Salzer

This haiku reflects subtle, meditative, and deep experiences that leave deep impressions. It’s our state of mind and heart that binds us with our surroundings and sometimes, there comes a point when our senses sync together to experience unique happenings that a person waits for their whole life.

The river bed as a concrete part not only shares the secrets of different regions from where it passes through but shows a deep connection of nature with human nature through a common feature which is soil. One cannot see it with the naked eye but one can surely feel what a riverbed holds and offers to those who want to unfold the stories of its unending journey.

After being connected to the river bed, the first thing we can feel is the sound of water which is not an ordinary sound. It seems more musical and rhythmic where the waves of water pass through one’s feet and change the rhythm. The word ‘still’ may indicate the quiet of the mind or mindfulness when the person is experiencing the ‘here and now’. It may also reflect the slowing down of the flow of water—the calmness both within and outside. It’s the highly subtle experience of meditation when everything converges to one point which brings tranquility.

‘Beneath my feet’ is a shift in this haiku that binds the person to connect deeply with their surroundings. The feet, probably bare, have healing properties that help us to gain peace of mind after fatigue or stress. These healing points pass on tranquility from bottom to top i.e. from soil/earth to mind/brain where the impulses, like the waves of water, slow down our thought process and bring peace. The soil as a soft and passive element of nature clears our flaws, cracks, and voids in life as both the river bed and human body are made of early elements.

My concluding point is, that when all senses are deeply intact and in sync with nature, one can experience wonders in less than a moment. That type of experience can change the state of our mind and heart for good.

— Hifsa Ashraf

What draws me into this haiku is its imaginative sense. There are multiple ways we can hear the water of a river despite it being dried up. It can come through daydreaming, imagination, hallucination, a nearby water source which is mistaken for the river’s flow, and more. The unsaid part of this haiku makes it stronger and more resonant.

If I had to place this poem in a season, I would say summer. Riverbeds commonly dry out during this season. Summer connects well to the idea of a flourishing imagination and an abundance of activity.
In terms of punctuation, there isn’t any. However, I don’t personally think it’s needed in this haiku. The line break in the first line works well to make a grammatical shift.

The pacing of the lines can be said to be the standard in the English-language haiku world, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line. With the second line resting on “still,” it gains more focus and amplifies its double meaning.

Looking at the sound, a few letters stand out. In the first two lines, the letter “r” dominates and gives a sense of movement. Throughout the whole haiku, the letters “e” and “i” create a stark mood that resonates with the reappearance of the sound of water.

Ultimately, the haiku’s unique line break, strong sense of sound, and expansive space for the reader’s interpretation make this a well-crafted poem.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Painting by John White.

Royal Baysinger’s who

not there
to remind me who’s who
— your funeral

– Royal Baysinger (Canada)

(previously published in Frogpond 45.2 & skipping stones: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2022)

Commentary

The structure of this haiku is different from the usual haiku but it provides enough room to think about the message the poet wants to share with us. At first glance, I feel it’s simply a flow of ongoing thoughts about a sad reality. The thoughts don’t need to be rearranged to make them perfect for readers. We can easily comprehend what is being said without focusing more on the style of this haiku.

The opening line ‘not there’ without ellipses lets our thoughts wander until we relate it to our personal experiences or observations. I paused for a while to think about the deep meaning of these two words that may sound meaningless if there is nothing after them. But, when I read them in the context they are given, they make a lot of sense—especially when I see them in physical and mental contexts. Who is not there? Myself? Others? Or, the person who is no more? In simple words, it’s a void that has been left after the death of a person where the person who is mourning is trying to relate it to their thoughts and/or feelings.

The second line gives meaning to the first line yet it is a mystery who is reminding that person. And, who’s who? The poet has beautifully left room for us to find answers to these questions by relating our personal experiences to them. We all pass through grief and mourn over the death of our dear ones and we all somehow pass through the same feelings where certain questions are left unanswerable. Within the context of this haiku, it illustrates the feelings of a mourner who is all alone and facing difficulties in dealing with people who are in a close circle. In other words, it’s about handling social relationships which were previously handled by the deceased one. It shows a lot of dependence of one person on another which has ended now. Also, it demonstrates how we are related to each other in a wide social network and how we need each other to strengthen our sense of belonging.

Looking at the punctuation, the em dash in the third line provides a long pause to the third line which allows us to see the whole poem from different angles. ‘Your’ may address one person or every person in society. In both cases, it projects the significance of a funeral as an event that reveals who belongs to whom and how life becomes different after the departure of a person from one’s life. 

– Hifsa Ashraf

I feel this haiku speaks to the value of one person in our families and communities. I like the humbling reminder of the interconnectedness of life. I also appreciate the subjects of identity and memory. 

This haiku reminds me of my mother and her social connections. Throughout her life, she has connected so many people in mysterious and meaningful ways.

Also, this haiku brings me an overwhelming sense of sadness, love, and gratitude for the person who passed away. I get the sense that many people came to their funeral. Because of this, I feel the poet is moved by not only all the people he recognizes (even without remembering their names) but also by all the people he has never seen before. The life of each person has a ripple effect with wide rings echoing in the cosmos in ways the limited mind cannot fully understand.

I feel this haiku is a humbling reminder that one person is never truly alone and that life is connected in mysterious, subtle, and meaningful ways.

This is a beautiful and powerful haiku that speaks to love, gratitude, and our limited time here in human bodies.

– Jacob D. Salzer

This could be classified as a senryu. It is written about human life in a poignant way. Senryu need not be humorous or silly. Many senryu, traditional and modern, portray the melancholy of being a person due to our flaws. This poem can fit into that category.

There is no kigo, or seasonal reference, present. This points even more towards my senryu hypothesis.

However, there is punctuation, which senryu are commonly devoid of. Traditionally, senryu do not have kireji, or cut markers. In the end, though, I am leaning towards it being a senryu. Ultimately, its label is not of serious consequence, since the poem connects well with readers no matter what we call it.

The em dash on the third line, for me, conveys the emotion of loss and feeling lost in the face of a loved one’s passing. I believe it’s a brilliant use of punctuation.

Thinking about the sonics of the poem, the elongated syllables of “o” make the mood even more somber. The strong “f” in the last line ending with the soft “l” additionally creates an emotional effect.

A senryu that expresses loss with brevity and directness but also irony.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

Frants Henningsen – A Funeral