This post contains a few of my English language poems using the traditional Japanese form of Haiku dealing with subjects as diverse as Mensa, domestic abuse and poetic meter! Haiku has become a popular art form in the English language creating an interesting cross-culture experience.
The Rule of 17
Haiku is a Japanese poetry form. It has a set of accepted rules and guidance as to content and form which do not easily translate culturally or linguistically. Traditionally, haiku have 17 syllables, although it is not possible to directly compare the semantics of Japanese with other languages. In English, these poems are usually written in three lines consisting of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively. These are a few of my first attempts at what is a much trickier art form than it first appears! Your comments would be much appreciated.
High IQ Haiku
means membership of Mensa,
but nights on your own.
I Amb History
Iambus I am,
a rising rhythmic two-step;
modern world averse.
I need to control,
take over your petty life.
It’s for your own good!
Devon is a beautiful part of the country. I am fortunate in that I am able to visit it regularly and have friends who take every opportunity to show me its best bits, of which there are many.
A couple of years ago, I was taken to Branscombe on the ‘Jurassic Coast’. My friend loves her beer and we walked to Beer, so I simply had to write something, albeit brief, about our ‘there and back’ journey. Part of the route goes past the remains of wartime coastal bunkers and the angle of some of the trees amply demonstrates the permanent battle against the elements.
Salty shoreline scents,
Bright cerulean skies,
Paling with the passage of the day,
Succumbing to an autumn sunset.
Vivid green pastures,
Defensive as a wartime bunker,
Each a monument to struggle.
The peace of dusk:
Hand in hand,
Rooted deeply in the land.
The owl, in modern western culture is associated with wisdom, the fox with cunning. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom and is linked to the image of an owl whereas folk tales abound involving the sly old ‘Renard’. We have both traits, but do we allow one to dominate the other? This poem poses the question.
The human, with a brain a similar size to that of a dolphin, is capable of many extraordinary things. However, it is also remarkably short-termist in its approach, particular with regard to the planet that provides the nourishment and habitats that enable its survival.
Cultists seek Armageddon, deniers ignore climate scientists; often the two groups are coterminous.
And when the fog finally retreats,
my thoughts clear in sympathy
and wisdom seems attainable,
nearly in my grasp.
Does this affliction affect us all?
Are we but petty animals,
imbued with Renard’s cunning,
yet lacking Athenian owlish insight?
My, what glorious monuments we make;
Yearning for that ultimate
one fantastic fabrication,
neatly avoiding the consequences.
Earth, not worth caring for;
trees so easy to replace.
Rape the landscape,
Earth, the only saviour,
mother of us all –
Understand; we are not all the same.
there are those who seek salvation.