Taken in May in 2016 in Dubai’s Old Town
DAILY PHOTO: House of Poetry
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Tag Archives: poetry
POEM: Conceit of Man
An elephant will never forget.
No car keys to misplace, I’ll bet.
A tiger is fearless, I will confess,
but it’ll never be audited by the IRS.
An owl may be wise; you can tell by the eyes.
But it’s never asked to comment on the size of a girl’s thighs.
Dolphins are smart ones, that much is true.
But, pray tell, who is in whom’s zoo?
In all domains humans think themselves the greatest.
And we are the very best of sadists.
You’ll never see a bonobo bureaucrat,
nor get tech support from a vampire bat.
At masochism, too, we’re none too shabby.
At the karaoke bar, ever see a tabby?
Ever seen a chimp with a nipple ring?
I’ll tell you now, that’s not a thing.
Our narcissism has grown beyond the pale.
One lifetime to the rocket from the sail
will give any species some cerebral swelling.
I’m not saying our’s isn’t a tale worth telling.
Let’s just make sure it doesn’t turn cautionary.
Basking in awesomeness, one forgets to be wary.
Next thing you know, super-smart apes are getting the itch,
or the Alpha Centaurians have made Earth their bitch.
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POEM: A Dark Note to Jello
Hello, Jello, my wiggly friend
It’s time you meet your fateful end
Perhaps, someday you will come back
But, having been through my digestive tract,
No one will ever love you like I did
[At least, let’s hope–heaven forbid]
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POEM: Size of the Future
Microbots may one day kill
From nano-pills you’ll get your fill
One day everything will be small
Except rayguns and the mall
Those two will be colossally large
Like a present-day garbage barge
Heaped into a humongous hill
Headed to a continental landfill
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POEM: Dreams & Visions
Taken in Varanasi on the Ghats
Every night I go to sleep
From the dream-world not a peep
A timeless void a dreamless night
Waking before the morning’s light
I lie awake my mind is crawling
Through the flotsam gently trawling
Floating visions that sink below
When I turn on the mind that knows
Bashful visions fade from sight
When exposed to wakeful light
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POEM: 3 Haiku Day
circling hawk glides
I’m glad it’s not a vulture
I must be alive
still lake reflecting
a mountainous lay of land
hiding fish below
hissing wind gusting
through narrow leaves of bamboo
calling to no one
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BOOK REVIEW: The Haiku Handbook by William J. Higginson
The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Teach, and Appreciate Haiku by William J. Higginson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Many people think that a haiku is any poem of three lines consisting of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively. Those who’ve gotten beyond a high school literature class introduction to the form may also know that these poems are usually observations of the nature world, and, specifically, the seasons. If the preceding sentences sum up haiku for you, but you’re interested in learning more, Higginson’s book will revolutionize your understanding of the art.
As it happens, the most fundamental notions about what makes up a haiku are actually more contentious than one might believe. Take the 17-syllable format. Japanese syllables are—on average—much shorter than English syllables. (e.g. Consider that “squirreled” is one syllable, whereas a long Japanese syllable would be “shi.”) For this reason, many have argued that to have the same sparse sound quality of Japanese haiku, English language haiku should follow a format that is less than 17 syllables. Also, while many people know that haiku are poems about nature, they might not make the connection to the purely descriptive (non-analytical / non-judgmental) approach or the art form. There’s a definite connection between haiku and the Zen mode of thought. The fact that the poems are sensate descriptions doesn’t mean they shouldn’t evoke emotion; on the contrary, they should be evocative on a primal level.
Be the preceding paragraph as it may, Higginson sketches out the evolution of haiku from the traditional greats (e.g. Bashō, Buson, Issa, and Shiki) to modern haiku poets both from Japan and from the rest of the world. The many examples provided offer the reader insight into how various poets have bent and broken the rules of haiku to achieve their own ends. There are, of course, some who wish to keep the form as true to the tradition as possible. Such individuals would like those who want to get unconventional to avoid using the term haiku (or terms for related traditional forms, e.g. “tanka.”) Others, want the freedom to take the art in new and unconventional directions.
The book consists of 16 chapters divided into four parts. The first part charts the evolution of haiku from the early masters to the modern age. The second part gets into the nitty-gritty of composing haiku, and it’s where one will learn about the various thoughts on the form and content of these poems. (Those wanting to learn the craft of writing haiku are directed specifically to chapters 8 and 9, which address the key elements nicely.) The third part is about teaching haiku, and specifically how to introduce it to children in a way that is much more effective than the usual teaching method (i.e. “Hey, kids, a haiku is a poem with 17 syllables arranged in three lines of 5 – 7 – 5 syllables.”) The fourth and final part puts haiku into a context of lesser known, but related, forms of Japanese poetry such at renga, tanka, and senryu. In other words, it reflects on the forms that predated or sprung from haiku. The book also has front and post matter that readers may find useful, including explanations of Japanese pronunciation (the Japanese poems usually feature the Romanized spelling out of the Japanese words as well as an English translation), a list of season words, a glossary, and bibliographic references.
I’d recommend this book for readers and / or writers of haiku who want to learn more about the craft and its progression as an art form. There’s scarcely a page in the book that doesn’t offer example haiku to help make the author’s points more clearly. One needn’t worry that this will be dull exposition that can only help to kill one’s love of haiku. I found the book to be readable and the examples to be well-chosen.
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POEMS: Dreary Day Haiku
Clouds chugged landward
Smothering a festive town
In a dense, gray cloak
Dreary days have come
Reminding me of Britain,
the long nightless nights
Drizzle piddles down
Dimpling the sidewalk sheen
With random ripples
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POEM: I Stand Before the Sea
I am a string of MEs
Strung out through eternity
But each eternity will die
Leaving in place another I
An I, a me, standing before the sea
Forget what I said about eternity
I am a finite speck of sand
Pushed and dragged by an unseen hand
Crack the speck, the TARDIS of Who
I’m every creature in the zoo
Every beast with limb and lung
Residing in every land far-flung
You think you know me? You know me not
I’ve not known me since I was just a tot
So I’ll thank you not to spoil my investigation
By classifying me by creed or nation
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BOOK REVIEW: Crow with No Mouth: Ikkyu Translated by Stephen Berg
Crow With No Mouth : Ikkyu : Fifteenth Century Zen Master by Ikkyu
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Ikkyū Sōjun was the Howard Stern of Zen masters. Born in 1394, he lived through most of the 15th century. Ikkyū served as a temple’s abbot for less than two weeks before he quit in disgust, vowing to move into a red-light district—apparently he wanted to live among people he found more honest and less hypocritical. The Zen master despised the corruption and snobbery of monastic politics.
Crow with no Mouth is a collection of Ikkyū’s verse, which is largely in the Zen tradition–featuring natural subjects and simple wisdom in a sparse style. Of course, as per my comments in the preceding paragraph, there are a few poems on topics such as cunnilingus and debauchery—so it’s not what one would call a child-friendly collection (unless one enjoys explaining the sexual exploits of a lecherous monk to one’s child.) The more explicit poems may seem like a diversion from the Zen path, but perhaps not. Maybe Ikkyū offered them as a way to train the mind, to observe one’s reaction to shocking commentary as a means of changing one’s way of thinking.
A few of my favorite lines of a more traditional nature include:
-“you can’t make cherry blossoms by tearing off petals to plant; only spring does that”
-“sometimes all I am is dark emptiness; I can’t hide in the sleeves of my own robes”
-“it’s logical: if you’re not going anywhere any road is the right one”
-“the edges of the sword are life and death; no one knows which is which”
-“even in its scabbard my sword sees you”
-“a flower held up twirled between human fingers; a smile barely visible”
-“in war there’s no time to teach or learn Zen; carry a strong stick; bash your attackers”
Here are a few of those jarring lines that I mentioned above:
-“that stone Buddha deserves all the bird shit it gets”
-“all koans just lead you on but not the delicious pussy of the young girls I go down on”
-“ten fussy days running this temple all red tape; look me up if you want o in the bar whorehouse fish market”
-“my dying teacher could not wipe himself; unlike you disciples who use bamboo; I cleaned his lovely ass with my bare hands”
-“don’t hesitate get laid that’s wisdom; sitting around chanting, what crap”
-“who teaches truth? good/bad the wrong way; Crazy Cloud knows the taste of his own shit” [Crazy Cloud was Ikkyū’s name for himself.]
When he left the monastery, Ikkyū shredded the certificate that served as his monastic credential. Some of his students found it, and pieced it back together. That led to the following verse:
-“one of you saved my satori paper I know it piece by piece; you pasted it back together; now watch me burn it once and for all”
Ikkyū’s verse asks us to reevaluate what it means to be sacred or profane. The orthodox view would be that Ikkyū fell from the sacred life of a monk. However, Ikkyū tells us that one can degrade what is important by raising the wrong things to sacred status. Conversely, some of what we believe to be profane is just rooted in habitual and ill-reasoned ways of thinking.
I’d recommend this work for those who love the spare form of Japanese poetry, and who don’t mind a hard jolt to their psyche occasionally.
