Haiku Poems

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Prologue

In the mid nineteen eighties on a steamy humid Hong Kong evening, I walked the streets of Wanchai where the streets are brocaded with neon signs, reaching out to the streets like luminous fingers. My Chinese friend guided me as we walked up several flights of a dark elevator-less apartment building. My friend’s friend was a traditional Chinese artist living in a tiny apartment in which every inch of floor and table space was generously overwhelmed and populated with canvases and paper and paints and brushes.

The artist painted with a variety of brushes with an extraordinary breadth and range of sizes. He painted on large sheets of hard white paper, using solely black paint. The artist was intense and not speaking a common language, the artist and I smiled and spoke with the animated use of our hands and arms, as my friend facilitated and translated our conversation to and from Cantonese and English. Lying about the claustrophobic room and in every available flat surface, and hanging from walls were literally hundreds upon hundreds of sheets of paper with the economical use of brush strokes depicting animals, people, landscapes, and seascapes and the people and places of the world.

The artist encouraged us to play a game in which my friend and I would randomly and verbally depict a scene with a staccato list of concepts and things ---sunset, trees, beach, a standing man, a boat, a wharf, a woman in repose-- whatever. With precise deftness he would dip various brushes in his single bottle of ebony paint and with astounding immediacy the picture would appear in a matter of seconds. So much white paper! So little brushed paint! So few seconds to accomplish the task! So much depicted! And there before us in real time, out words were transformed into a painting with unfettered speed and economy of brush strokes. He captured reality with great economy and profound insight into the essence of the reality. So few lines! So much white paper! Yet our imaginations saw the shape and harmony and texture of the unpainted white. He used the unpainted white of the paper as a musician uses the silence between the notes of music.

The seventeen syllables of a haiku are revealed in three lines of five, seven and five syllables. The economy of words and the immensity of what is revealed are comparable to the black ink paintings of the Hong Kong painter in the tiny room. What is not said in the haiku is the white paper of the painting. There must be some balance that goes beyond science or rigorous revelation. What is said, so simply and abstractly, makes the haiku come alive and stir the emotions. What is not said, but suggested actually completes the poem, and in fact involves reader to participate in the poem. A haiku has no meaning until it is read. The reader becomes a participant in the poem.

The Japanese have been writing haiku for hundreds of years. Great haiku and their writers are admired and discussed and contemplated. Ancient and revered haiku are as admired and loved with as much reverence as when first stroked on ancient paper centuries ago. It is rather out of fashion to still use the 5-7-5 syllable structure and often modern tastes do not adhere to that discipline, but it is still a challenge to be caught up in the old tradition. Any attempt at the 5-7-5 ancient format should still be respected and its merit assessed on the “black ink of it” and the “white paper of it.”

Haiku 1 Anger Filled Your Face

Anger filled your face
The tender touch of your hand
Pulsed with forgiveness

Haiku 2 You Choreograph

You choreograph
Your smile a thousand ways
Is that your mystery?

Haiku 3 He Said He Loved Her

He said he loved her
She blushed and tears filled her eyes
His lips kissed her tears

Haiku 4 Until You Return

Until you return
The silence where you once were
Speaks softly to me

Haiku 5 Splashes of Color

Splashes of color
Sun washed fields---dazzling sun
van Gogh is alive

Haiku 6 The Cat’s Yellow Eyes

The cat’s yellow eyes
Burn in the silent darkness
Peak into my soul

Haiku 7 Geckos Stare Stiffly

Geckos stare stiffly
A silent snapshot in time
Bathed in morning dew

Haiku 8 Swallow My Anger

Swallow my anger
Undigested in my brain
Now I am consumed

Haiku 9 Over My Shoulder

Over my shoulder
The sun falls into the sea
Beach and I alone

Haiku 10 Tongue Searching Your Mouth

Tongue: searching your mouth
Eyes: exploring thighs and breasts
You: mysterious

Haiku 11 In Your Eyes New Thoughts

In your eyes new thoughts
I search to read them-- no clue
Impenetrable

Haiku 12 The Cusp of Summer

The cusp of summer
Spring flowers and silent hills
Do not journey far

Haiku 13 Angled Sunset Rays

Angled sunset rays
Splash color on your face
Dawn lives in your eyes

Haiku 14 Candle Aroma

Candle aroma
Memories flood my mind
A prayer unanswered

Haiku 15 A Shovel Resting

A shovel resting
Standing tall and silently
Its day’s work is done

Haiku 16 Some Have Touched Our Lives

Some have touched our lives
Briefly impetuously
And eternally

Haiku 17 Shoemakers, Masons

Shoemakers, masons
With joy cobbling and cutting
Shoes and cathedrals

Haiku 18 Masons Patiently

Masons patiently
Laying brick upon a brick
Building cathedrals

Haiku 19 Golden Globed Grapes

Golden globed grapes
September morn dew and sun
Patient kegs await

Haiku 20 Father’s Silent Voice

Father’s silent voice
Now speaks and pounds in my heart
He speaks forever

Haiku 21 Frog Sings at Sunrise

Frog sings at sunrise
A solo sunlit aria
Birth to a new day