So I’m already on day 19 of my challenge to write a daily haiku for a year, and I’m going to post one of them here. Don’t worry, I’m not going to post this every day, before you unfollow me, but please do feel free to comment, and/or post your own haiku.
A few weeks ago, just after I got my poetry vibe back on, I found myself immersed in the poetry section of a lovely warren of a second-hand bookshop, and came away with a book called “The Japanese Haiku,” by Kenneth Yasuda.
I sat down in a coffee shop and looked at it thinking there was a high possibility that this might be just another uncracked tome to weigh down my shelving (it still crosses my mind that I might have a book problem, but let’s save that just now). On the contrary, as it turns out to be highly readable. Yasuda wrote this book in the 50s, back when things were explained rather neatly it seems, in a straightforward manner without artifice, and as such it’s a good introduction to the topic. I’ve been working my way through it every day before I put down my daily haiku, trying to use its concepts in practice, and improve little by little.
So this, following, is the first haiku I was even remotely happy with because I felt it was the only one that had managed to organically combine the three necessary elements: season, place, subject, and I even managed to sneak in an Acer, which is a classic Japanese symbol of Autumn. I notice now that I go to post it that it is missing a little finesse and also a “thought pause” which is another important element that I haven’t entirely figured out yet; the Japanese call it a cutting word, but I’m not sure if it is translatable when composing haiku in English.
Enough preamble, here it is, #010:
in crimson, the acer leans
to hug at my shed.