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Simply Haiku: An
E-Journal of Haiku and Related Forms Haiku Clinic #2 Below are poems based on some that have been submitted to me for comment and revision. However, the original poems can hardly be detected here. To keep the original poets anonymous, I have gone through the poems, writing parallel draft verses on different subjects based in my own experience. (By 'parallel verses' I mean that the drafts below attempt to duplicate some aspects of the originals' form and psychological force while shifting the specific content into other times, environments, and subjects. Thus, the originally submitted verses have been completely replaced by these quite different 'original draft' verses, while retaining their original problems.) I have sorted the resulting drafts into groups based on the problems I see in them and I have tried to rewrite them into the best haiku I can make on those experiences. Below are several types of problems that I wish to consider for this haiku clinic. Following them, I have included readers' solutions to some of the problems encountered in the previous 'Haiku Clinic' column. — 5-7-5 Problems— Quite often, trying to write haiku in 5-7-5 in English results in wordiness. (Seventeen syllables in English normally includes far more information than one wants in a haiku, and runs longer in the mouth or ear than a typical Japanese haiku, usually by some 60%. There are poets who can avoid this, but most beginners find it difficult. Translations in 5-7-5 have the same problems, and usually include far more material than their originals.) And sometimes, as in this example, wordiness encourages hyperbole, often moving the poem into the realm of unwarranted emotions, as mentioned in the previous 'Haiku Clinic'. The following example demonstrates these and other problems common with attempting poems in fixed syllable-counted lines in English, a language peculiarly unfriendly to syllabics. ORIGINAL DRAFT partings
whispered like Here, a simile (also not a great idea for beginning haiku poets, though similes can sometimes be useful in haiku) takes up most of the poem. In this case, if we drop out the simile and reduce the poem to its most basic elements, we almost lose the poem completely: REDRAFT 1 partings
whispered . . . for the 'pearls' was actually a metaphor for 'dew'—which was introduced as part of the simile. (Note that simple metaphors, also sometimes useful in haiku, are best avoided by beginners along with similes.) Perhaps a better approach would be to promote the simile to reality, instead of failed description, and eliminate the metaphors ('silky' suggests an unnecessary metaphor as well), thus: REDRAFT 2 partings
whispered Now, dew usually falls in late evening or during the night, and 'sweetly' still seems like emotional overkill. Amazing, how even one word can make a poem 'gooey'—a characteristic quite unwanted in haiku. Even the pluralizing of 'dews' seems excessive. Looking at this draft, I realize that I've dropped out the 'dawn' too, which actually provides useful context. So, back for another version: REDRAFT 3 partings
whispered Well, now we're getting somewhere. 'Love', instead of being shoved in our faces, now becomes the unspoken subject of the poem. But even 'dawnlight' seems a little precious, and I really did like 'gleams' at the end. How about this: FINAL? partings
whispered Thus, the middle phrase becomes a pivot between the two outer lines (giving the context for both 'partings whispered' and 'dew gleams'), a useful technique in haiku, and the gently erotic image of the gleaming dew provides some impact at the end. Frankly, when I started working on this draft, I didn't think it could be rescued as a haiku and contemplated trying to craft the poem into a tanka instead. But this gentle, understated result pleases me. While the sentiment resembles tanka more than haiku, the haiku technique here carries the day. And, this poem has the lightness of haiku, something difficult to achieve in 5-7-5 in English. ORIGINAL DRAFT I can't find
a way Another problem found in many haiku, not just 5-7-5s, is plain statement lacking impact. But the very plainness of this language allows us to quickly move to an arrangement that (a) includes a haiku break, and (b) provides a bit of a surprise at the end, especially when we gently relax the erroneous 5-7-5 'requirement': FINAL? this howling
storm I also reduced the demonstrative adjective 'that' to 'the', in effect both smoothing the rhythm and making the poem a bit closer in focus. Thus, the speaker seems to be on or at least at the base of the hill, rather than looking at it from some distance. (I could have used 'this', but there's already enough intensity here for my taste.) Notice that the simplicity of the language in the first place allowed me to quickly see the better arrangement, so this poem did not require nearly as much fiddling as the one before to get it into acceptable haiku shape. ORIGINAL DRAFT towering
hemlocks Here again, the language seems clear and simple, and there is a clear haiku break already in place. But the felt need to 5-7-5 the poem forces a plural in the second line that turns it into a self-destructing generalization. How much clearer and simpler to bring things into focus, even at a distance: FINAL? towering
hemlocks As these last two examples prove, it's not the 5-7-5 that kills the haiku, it's the complex, heavy language that all too often travels with 5-7-5. So, my advice for those who really find it helpful to go for 5-7-5 in the first place: (1) Keep the language very plain and simple. (2) Be ready to let go of 5-7-5 at the end, the fine-tuning stage, for the sake of building a poem with a haiku break, with naturally flowing language, and with immediacy and impact that carries all the way to the end. — Ambiguity and Cliché— ORIGINAL DRAFT rooftops With quite a few gray hairs myself, I have to like this at least a little bit. But the common simile or metaphor of gray or white hair emulating snow drags the poem down, even if it wasn't intended in the first place. A little cleaning up and an added element might make this poem a bit less cliché and more interesting: FINAL? the world
deep Now the metaphor is only a faint stain in the back of the mind, while up front the isolation of being snowbound finds its echo in the brightness of the mirror's silver. (I realize that I've jettisoned the visual chord of the snowheap over the angle of the roof and the rounded hump of my snowy head, but these mildly humorous elements I willingly drop in favor of the deeper psychology here.) — Simple Logic and Hyperbole— In the last 'Haiku Clinic' I spoke of 'unriddling the riddle', when a first or last line seems to answer a riddle posed by the rest of the poem. A very closely related problem occurs when the cut or break in a haiku simply separates two equivalent things, like something general and a specific example of it, or a general condition and one of its obvious consequences. And this problem can also shade into the logic of cause and effect, especially if hyperbole comes into the picture. ORIGINAL DRAFT yowling cats— OK, now what? 'Yowling cats' are a sign of spring, often occurring when snow is still pretty deep on the ground. So what can we do here to get beyond a plain statement of already known fact? We need something to replace the obvious 'the first sign of spring'—something that we don't normally think of as particular to spring, perhaps. Perhaps some readers will make suggestions for this one, as in fact we only have the first line (or last) of a haiku here so far. ORIGINAL DRAFT one a.m.— Here the latter part of the poem is simply a refinement of the former. Condensed, this would make a setting, but something else, either foreground or action, seems needed. Let's work on condensing that setting, and perhaps something will float up from memory in the meantime. PARTIAL 1 a corner darkens Granted, I've omitted the exact time, but probably this is as much of the first draft as we need. With this setting in play, we have room for something else—perhaps something that will include a seasonal element. To be true to the original draft, we need something with a somber or perhaps slightly melancholy tone. Perhaps you have something to put with this, either before or after it. ORIGINAL DRAFT flood of
tears What a comedown. The last line not only punctures the hyperbole of the 'flood' and 'dam', but also comes out in ear-grating telegraphese. Like the previous example, we have the whole poem taken up with far too much verbiage for the modest situation. (This is another example of what I called 'unwarranted emotion' in the previous clinic.) When we cut out the histrionic speech of the first two lines, and make the last line more realistic in both content and language, we get something like this: REDRAFT 1 a block lost This presents a problem. The event is so commonplace, so well known and often commented upon, that this alone will not make a haiku. (The original draft's overblown speech probably originated in this realization—and an attempt to tease a poem out of it anyway.) The trick here will be to add something without just making a list of three different objects or facts. Give it a try! — Generalization— ORIGINAL DRAFT driven by
instinct Two problems bedevil this verse. First, there is the insensitive pun on 'row' (a metaphor for the fish swimming, I suppose) and 'roe'—the eggs of salmon. This makes it more of a joke than a poem. That may be pretty easy to solve by going for something more direct. Second, if the rest of the poem didn't do it, the last line definitely makes this a generalization. Replacing the pun and filling in a blank or two, we get the plain sentence: 'Driven by instinct, salmon swim upstream to produce the next generation.' True, but common knowledge, and not a poem. That middle line contains the only specific image in the poem. Since the rest is common knowledge, here again, the poem-part that remains only makes one line: salmon swim upstream For 'upstream' one might substitute 'up the waterfall' or some other, more specific and dynamic setting, which would give this part of the poem more immediacy. But once again, the original draft really only accounts for half or less of a haiku, and needs something more added for completion. How about it—your turn. ORIGINAL DRAFT The Finger
Lakes Reading this, I feel like I'm in an airplane flying over Upstate New York, a plane named 'my summer vacation'. Maybe that's not such a bad idea: REDRAFT 1 The Finger
Lakes Not a great haiku, but passable. At least the whole poem could be the answer to part of that first-day-of-school question, instead of trying to ask and answer the question within the verse. (Here, the period added because I feel a bit uncomfortable starting a poem, even a haiku, with a capital letter and not ending it with some kind of 'stop'—as period, exclamation mark, and question mark are called collectively.) ORIGINAL DRAFT cicada shell— Granted, a cicada shell may be a specific, and 'now' seems to be trying to make it so, but that last line, however much we may enjoy the pun at the end, just makes another general observation, gives us nothing specific to hang on to. Despite that, the language is fairly clean, so, unless someone has a better suggestion, I'll leave this where it is and move on. — Almost There: Add Some Seasoning— DRAFT goosebumps This poem has a good deal of sensation already going for it, between 'goosebumps' ('gooseflesh' to some) and 'hairy legs'. It's as if the goosebumps actually revealed the hairiness of the author's legs to the author himself (speaking as if it were I). And indeed, gooseflesh makes hairiness more apparent, as anyone who has rubbed a hand over it knows. But this still seems to want something more. When faced with a poem like this, almost but not quite there, I frequently take a look at the seasonal aspect. As it turns out, gooseflesh (in Japanese torihada='bird-skin') has not yet been added to the season word list, so we can set this poem in any season. And indeed, there are many possible causes of goosebumps. So, if we rework this slightly into (a) the first two lines or (b) the last two lines of a proposed haiku, we make a berth for a season word: PARTIAL 1 goosebumps PARTIAL 2 [add season
word here] Personally, I like leaving the 'hairy legs' for last, but either could work. What would you add, and where would you put it? — Your Turn— Do you have better revision suggestions for some of the poems discussed above? Or a way to improve the 'final' versions above beyond where I got them to? Pick one specific poem from among these, and tell me about it. If I like your suggestion, it will appear in the next installment of ‘Haiku Clinic’ along with your name. <http://www.poetrylives.com/SimplyHaiku/SHpages/higginson_email.html>Email me with the subject line Haiku Clinic. (Please, only one poem to a customer! Also, please avoid any HTML coding as much as possible in your reply, as it causes problems when we put the final article together. I.e., no centering, bolding, varying sizes, or similar formatting.) — Readers' Suggestions re Haiku Clinic #1— In each of the following instances, I recap the previous column's versions, and provide suggested revisions by our readers (in boldface) and, where offered, slightly edited versions of readers' comments. ORIGINAL DRAFT: '-ING' PROBLEMS eating a
cookie REDRAFT NO '-ING' I eat a cookie PROPOSED REVISIONS Mary King wrote: 'I got to thinking about the cookie haiku. I thought that if I had written it, I'd want to try and make it a little more interesting, so that's what I've tried to do with the following: fresh-baked
cookies . . . plush
sofa cushions plush
sofa cushions . . . 3 by Mary King Each of these definitely moves the poem forward from where I left it. The ellipsis in the first almost creates that sigh of pleasure as the poem carries us into that plush sofa. The second introduces a (perhaps unintended) consequence of eating while sitting on a sofa—get the clean-up squad! (Note that this 'satisfying' presents no problem related to '-ing', since it is an adjective.) The version I have placed third (they are not in her original order) seems to me the most satisfying, taking us deeper into the pleasures of both cookie and sofa, and perhaps adding a sense of the forbidden nature of such pleasures—for us Puritans. But wait, there's more. Mary goes on: 'Then, I wanted to try one with a kigo.' Always a good move: distant
thunder— by Mary King The plainness of the language belies a very complex reality here. Now we have some summer heat, or is it the soft whish of air conditioning? On plush cushions and eating a cookie, our subject seems to respond to the subtle threat of that distant thunder with a certain jaded ennui. The more I look at them, the more I have to say that, for me, it's a toss-up between these last two versions, though I also have to admit a certain fondness for the 'fresh-baked' of Mary's first revision above. Think I'll go get a cookie myself. Thanks, Mary. ORIGINAL DRAFT: '-ING' PROBLEMS Memorial
Day REDRAFT NO '-ING' Memorial
Day— FINAL? Memorial
Day— PROPOSED REVISION Memorial
Day by Allen McGill I really like the hint of 'dread' in that 'tread', as well as its sense of both stateliness and perhaps a bit of fatigue in the usual heat of a Memorial Day parade. An excellent job capturing the subtle mixture of the feelings one has in the midst of these occasions. Well done, Allen! ORIGINAL DRAFT: UNWARRANTED EMOTION without a
song, . . . About which I said: 'Stripped of irrelevant allusions and unnecessary verbiage, this draft reduces to 'the daffodils die down'—and there seems to be no haiku here.' However, two readers responded with some worthwhile suggestions. PROPOSED REVISIONS Carole MacRury writes: 'I’d love to try to salvage this one if possible. To observe dead daffodils in silence isn’t such a bad idea for a haiku. It could suggest the passage of time. The problematic "without a song" suggests that perhaps the poet barely noticed them until right now because the dang daffodils didn’t sound their trumpets to let the poet know they were all finished blooming. It all depends on what the poet means by "without a song". So I’ll try to guess, which is dangerous when revising another’s poem. 'We often refer to a "garden bed", or a "bed of tulips", and in fact we say "bedding plants" so I think "bed" is okay, although perhaps not necessary. What I most felt from the original was the transience, the shortness of time. How about: at
day’s end by Carole MacRury Carole goes on, 'But, connotations are fun in haiku. I’m not sure if they are allowed, but if so, then this one could also be written thus: at
day’s end— by Carole MacRury 'Singular "bed" is appropriate for a bed of daffodils, yet offers connotations too. Radical change. Not a great haiku, and maybe not what the poet intended, but a possibility.' Thank you,
Carole, for tackling this problematic poem. Either of these might do for a
final version. note-less— by chibi The 'note-less' here covers the territory originally introduced by 'without a song', but deletes the overdone allusion to a popular song and at the same time suggests 'without being noted'—a rather good revision. Also, 'fade' coordinates with the musical aspect of the 'note' in 'note-less'. Chibi goes on, 'This is rather terse, but I also consider: note-less— note-less— 2 by chibi Moving even further toward telegraphese, these seem a bit too constrained in their brevity, and 'lower' comes too close to a threatening frown for my liking. Again, Chibi continues: 'Perhaps, I would like to see lines along a more traditional Japanese form, tying an emotion to the moment. The passing of seasonal beauty with or without note. I could better comment if I knew what was the author's feeling? Where is the heart in the haiku?' Another of his versions: daffodils— by chibi I salute the attempt to add something, often not a bad idea after the original's overblown diction is cut away. But Chibi rightly says of this, 'Uh . . . hmmmm . . . several associations here—too much? trumpet, taps, lowers, flag (another name for the blossom of a flower), dusk, yellow—truly this is a moment full of imagery and emotion. Indeed, daffodils are full of soundless music.' All of which seems too much, to me, especially the suggestion that taps causes the flag to go down. The phenomena may indeed occur together, often do, but stating it this way seems like some Zenny haikuist gone amok. Finally, Chibi appends the following: daffodils— by chibi . . . and adds 'Noting (pun) the trumpet shape of the daffodil, is that the core of this haiku? Associating this shape with music, the movement of air causing sound.' This seems a much more interesting haiku, to me, suggestive of the visual chord we began with, but adding real music, and its end, thus suggesting that all things—including the daffodils—must come to an end, without shoving it in the reader's face. This, I think, is a most satisfactory rewrite, thank you Chibi. ORIGINAL DRAFT: UNWARRANTED EMOTIONS Two ducks
are flying, REVISION, HUNTER OMITTED Two ducks
fly PROPOSED REVISIONS, HUNTER INCLUDED Two ducks
are flying, thunderclap— by Ray Rasmussen alternatively: gunshot— by Ray Rasmussen Ray comments: 'I thought about "gunshot", but prefer "thunderclap", remembered from the film "Winged Migration" (which is a must-see film on bird migrations) a group of geese being shot and one bird falling. My sense when hearing that gunshot was initially that it was the sound of thunder. I also wondered whether "flock" is the correct word for a group of ducks. I thought "wing" might be better. As it turns out the terms for groups of ducks are: paddling, raft, team. But I thought it would create a problem to use any of these more accurate terms . . . as in:' gunshot— by Ray Rasmussen 'I can't help thinking that this has anthropomorphised the ducks because I can only think in terms of human "teams".' Ray is quite right, 'team' is a collective noun for flying ducks, but puts us off with what seems a human reference that somehow belittles the ducks. There are other collective nouns for ducks as well; we might consider 'skein, sord (or sore), or string', according to www.askoxford.com, which has a really comprehensive listing of collective nouns. For its ring of connection (and thus disconnection), I might suggest the first of these: gunshot— by Ray Rasmussen, wjh edit I do find 'thunderclap' a little problematic, as without direct reference to the hunter or the hunter's activity, possibly the reader will miss the metaphor and think the one duck was struck by lightning. The 'gunshot' version, however, is clean and clear, thank you Ray, and—once the best collective noun is supplied—seems a good solution to the problem. Here's another: flying
ducks— by
Gillena Cox Gillena adds the following comment: '"Missed" in line two is the pivot as well as the cutting word, in that the ducks, flying past, escaped, and the hunter's bullets failed to make contact. We know that the ducks were not on the ground but rather in the air. This makes the haiku about the ducks, even though the hunter is mentioned, with a concluding happiness for those sympathetic towards the hunter [I add: and the ducks].' I rather like Gillena's solution best, noting that it really is a different poem from Ray's. (It is quite possible that an original draft may yield two or more final poems.) She betters my initial attempt to eliminate the hunter by including the hunter but defeating the hunter's purpose—at least in part. And she's quite right about the power of that word 'missed', for it sets up a real tension that is not resolved until the end of the poem. By giving a little intentional edge to the ducks, and not otherwise mentioning how many the hunters may have succeeded in bagging, she leaves the poem more open to the reader's imagination. Perhaps we look up after hearing the shots and see two ducks flying on. Were some downed? We don't know. Note that had she written the poem in the plain present, 'miss' instead of 'missed', the reader would have to conclude that some ducks were indeed hit. (Japanese haiku, despite much ballyhoo to the contrary, often make use of the present perfect or past perfect tense, showing an action just now or previously completed. It may be best for beginners to stick to plain present, but there are other possibilities.) And I also thank Gillena for volunteering her geographical whereabouts, as this lends a sense of both locale and global camaraderie to her contribution. One reader's final comment was: 'Thank you for the opportunity to explore your haiku.' Well, these are not 'my haiku', but haiku based on poems originally submitted for publication in Simply Haiku. They have, however, as stated at the beginning, been greatly modified as to content, so the 'original drafts' above are not in fact the poems originally submitted, nor are they really my own poems. Consequently, although I appreciate the courtesy in another contributor's comment, 'And my apologies to the poet'—this is not necessary. The poems no longer resemble anyone else's work in any serious sense by the time they enter the clinic, but may be considered purely as examples for practice. On that note, I would like to suggest that each contributor above view their final results as their own original poems, and feel free to publish them elsewhere over/under their own names, of course indicating a credit to Simply Haiku in the process. (That is, these are 'previously published'—here in Simply Haiku, and may not be submitted to contests or magazines as previously unpublished work.) I say this out of respect for the work they have done and their results, which have definitely gone not only far beyond where these examples began, but beyond my attempts at improving them as well. We will consider all cases closed on these readers' suggestions, and thank our correspondents not only for their participation, but for their fine solutions to some bothersome haiku problems. Those who wish to respond with suggestions to poems in this 'Haiku Clinic #2' are asked to restrict themselves to the new poems introduced in the first half of the column, as indicated at 'Your Turn', above. For a more detailed introduction to the haiku clinic, please go to the haiku clinic introduction. — Bill Higginson, Haiku Clinic Editor
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