HAIKU DIALOGUE – Finding peace and contemplation… in worn, imperfect and transient things… old ship’s chain

Finding peace and contemplation… in worn, imperfect and transient things with Guest Editor Marietta McGregor

At times in our lives, fast-moving events of our day-to-day existence may become overwhelming. Between work and family responsibilities, daily needs and doomscrolling, days rush by in a breakneck blur and we sometimes end the week with a sense of ‘where did that go?’ We’re surrounded by the wonders of our shared universe. Maybe it’s time to become immersed in the enjoyment of one aspect of this spectacular world which amazes, delights and refreshes us. We can marvel at the night sky or clouds by day, cheer a ladybug as it climbs a twig and opens its wings, dangle our feet in a cool river, rest in a tree’s benevolent shade, stroke velvety green moss, smell ozone freshness at the coast, crunch through frosty grass, listen to morning birdsong, taste a last autumn apple. Small pauses in quotidian life may be devoted to living slower, using every sense, and sharing our pleasure through poetry. Simple gifts.

Each week for the next few weeks there will be a photographic prompt on the theme of ‘Finding peace and contemplation. . .’ with images capturing moments when we might seek inspiration if the going gets tough. I look forward to reading your personal response to the moments you’ve discovered.

next week’s theme: … at a tea party

Many countries and cultures around the world celebrate with a tea party. It’s an opportunity to gather with friends and family to enjoy delicious treats and engage in gentle conversation. A tea party may include savoury or sweet fare such as sandwiches and cakes. Whether samosas or shortbread are on offer, the usual beverage is a nice cup of tea. I took this photograph in a country garden on the fringes of suburbia. It felt like a different world. This week we invite you to write about the tea time moments you’ve enjoyed, whether it’s high tea, a special garden party, or a family get-together.

The deadline is midnight Eastern Daylight Time, Saturday October 09, 2021.

Please use the Haiku Dialogue submission form below to enter one or two original unpublished haiku inspired by the week’s theme, and then press Submit to send your entry. (The Submit button will not be available until the Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in.) With your poem, please include any special formatting requirements & your name as you would like it to appear in the column. A few haiku will be selected for commentary each week. Please note that by submitting, you agree that your work may appear in the column – neither acknowledgment nor acceptance emails will be sent. All communication about the poems that are posted in the column will be added as blog comments.

below is Marietta’s commentary for in worn, imperfect and transient things… old ship’s chain:

Chains that break and chains that bind, all appeared in your poems this week. Some poems celebrated friendships, others long marriages and family ties. Others were more about separation, or estrangement. Some haiku reminisced about the past, as if the old chain could tell some stories. Several poets wrote about family heirlooms, treasured items handed down and still worn. Daisy chains popped up as symbols of summer, or even after release from lockdown. This week marks the close of our wabi-sabi month of writing about worn, imperfect and transient things. I have greatly enjoyed all of your poems. I’ll be providing some new prompts for October and I look forward to another month of finding peace and contemplation in the small moments we experience together. Thanks again to Kathy, Lori and The Haiku Foundation for the Haiku Dialogue feature.

harvest moon
a hole in the chain link fence
just big enough

Susan Rogers
Los Angeles

More is suggested than said in this haiku. For those who dwell in the northern hemisphere, the full moon rising in September is by tradition the harvest moon, coinciding with the autumnal equinox on farmers’ almanacs. When it rises shortly after sunset at this time, the moon hanging above the eastern horizon appears large and honey-gold. Over several nights, as the moon rises only minutes later each night, its brilliance when the sun sets provided a boon to farmers who gained precious light to bring in their late-summer corn crops. The haiku sets the scene with its first line autumn kigo, which shows us the sun has set and the moon is up. The ‛chain link fence’ implies we’re somewhere rural, perhaps on a farm, not the city. We imagine a moment when, beckoned by the bright moon, youngsters on a dare or lovers on a tryst sneak out while the nights are still mild and balmy, not yet hinting of winter.

the runway
connecting a chain of lights
to the milky way

Teiichi Suzuki
Japan

Classic haijin, including artist and poet Yosa Buson, used the pictorial device of change of focus in their haiku. Jane Reichhold, writing on haiku techniques, likened this to beginning a poem by turning a wide-angle lens on the world, for example a field of flowers, then using closer-focus lenses in the next lines to zoom in on a subject, ultimately focussing upon a single bloom. This haiku could be said to employ the same cinematic technique of ‛zooming’, as it uses a montage of images. However, in this case we zoom out. Each image links to the next to create an effect of broadening the poem to a much bigger canvas. We imagine an airplane stationary on a runway, ready to take off. Beyond the illuminated delineations of the runway, lights lead the eye into the far distance, then high into the sky. As if following links in a chain, our eyes move from the grounded sphere into the cosmos, and our human perceptions change from the small and finite ‛known’ to the infinite ‛unknown’.

days rust into night monsoon

Roberta Beach Jacobson
Indianola, Iowa, USA

Those of us from temperate climates can only experience life in the tropics secondhand, from the stories of friends or family who live there. The months leading to monsoon season in Darwin, at the Top End of Australia, are called the ‛build-up’. Inexorable heat belts down. Getting a restful sleep is hard. People may become stressed and irritable, and lack energy. Australians call it ‛going troppo’. When the monsoon arrives, with its high humidity, thunder, lightning and torrential rain, there’s not much relief. This deft monoku captures in five words the ennui of monsoon. Day after day, the sky darkens, and it teems with rain. Instead of telling the reader the days and nights are monotonously similar, by using ‛rust’ as an active verb the poet shows us how slowly each day passes. Also, metal objects left outside for long do indeed rust, so the verb is an apt choice.

barks in the night—
black sound of iron chain
behind the fence

Tomislav Maretić
Croatia

We can only guess at the setting of this dark poem. Sadly, it could be a moment experienced in many places around the world which have been, or still are, caught up in wars and unrest. It evokes a prison or refugee camp, somewhere people are locked in. Or the setting could be a wealthy residential enclave, where guard dogs patrol property boundaries. Either way, it conveys a sense of enforcement. One comment I’d like to make about style: omitting all definite or indefinite articles in English-language haiku can risk the haiku reading as ‛telegraphese’, an abbreviated form of English used in telegrams. Here Line 2 heads in the direction of excessive brevity. This could be overcome to some degree by making either ‛sound’ or ‛chain’ a plural noun. That aside, the line is interesting because this particular phrase uses the technique of synesthesia. Synesthesia may be described as transposing an expected sensory reaction from an activity or object to something quite different. Bashō’s famous haiku uses the technique, when he perceives a duck’s cries as being white. Some people experience synesthesia on a regular basis, for example seeing a sound or a touch as a specific colour. In Line 2, the sound of the iron chain is not the expected ‛clank’ or ‛rattle’, but is ‛black’, further reinforcing the ominous feeling established in Line 1. Synesthesia can be very effective in shaking up a haiku to convey a novel effect or feeling – the haiku reading can gain added depth from techniques like these switches. An interesting essay on synesthesia by Paul Miller can be accessed in The Haiku Foundation’s Digital Library: https://thehaikufoundation.org/omeka/items/show/1342

& here are the rest of the selections:

rusty chain
another day
being his wife

Deborah Karl-Brandt
Bonn, Germany

 

rusty chain
I too
feel the rain

Stephen A. Peters
Bellingham, Wa. USA

 

the missing link . . .
I hold your little hand
more tightly

Anitha Varma
Kerala, India

 

for better or worse . . .
our anchor chain holds
through the storm

Pris Campbell
US

 

climbing up
the rusty chain fence
morning glories and my shadow

Anna Yin
Ontario, Canada

 

the couple free
from till death do us part
high lawyer fees

Hla Yin Mon
Yangon, Myanmar

 

chain reaction
that little spark
at the start

Sherry Grant
Auckland, New Zealand

 

chain links—
a mother suckles
her just born

Subir Ningthouja
Imphal, India

 

mom’s old apron
still tied loosely
around her waist

Edna Beers
Renssealaer, NY

 

arm-in-arm
with my son and daughter
crossbars on a chain link

Christina Sng
Singapore

 

link by link
the stolen gift chain
recovered

Robert Kingston
United Kingdom

 

chain tattoo—
remembering her love
across the seas

Nicole Pottier
France

 

in the garden
of the divorce courts
chrysanthemums

Ravi Kiran
India

 

hospice waiting room
one day even acrobats
will have to let go

John Hawkhead
UK

 

broken links
we begin to repair
old wounds

Tracy Davidson
Warwickshire, UK

 

missing my dog—
his footsteps sound
chained at my heart

Maria Teresa Sisti
Massa Carrara, Italy

 

rust on a chain
linking us all
to one another

Ronald Degler
Harbor City, California, USA

 

snapped string
a kite becomes one
with the wind

Vandana Parashar
India

 

iceberg—
anchored to its fate
a ship rests at the sea bed

हिम खंड
भाग्य की बेड़ी से बंधा जहाज
समुद्र तल में

Teji Sethi
India

 

unchained . . .
after forced isolation
re-entry syndrome

Natalia Kuznetsova
Russia

 

gramp’s cross mood—
the rusted saw teeth
sharp as ever

Richard Matta
San Diego, California

 

morning walk
the shadows hold hands
intermittently

Donal O’Farrell
Ireland

 

beyond the grave . . .
a lifelong friendship
remains unbroken

Mark Meyer
Mercer Island WA USA

 

wedding ring
on the altar
his ashes

Kanjini Devi
The Far North, Aotearoa NZ

 

touching
her wedding ring
on my finger

Maurice Nevile
Australia

 

found—
my father’s sextant
in his attic

Gary Evans
Stanwood, Washington

 

my convict roots
now a source of pride
wattle blossoms

Louise Hopewell
Australia

 

summer garden
making daisy chains
childhood memories

Margaret Mahony
Australia

 

chain stitch
the picture completes
itself

Neera Kashyap
India

 

daisy chains
a link between
generations

Carol Reynolds
Australia

 

heirloom . . .
the fallen bells
from her anklets

Akila G
Hyderabad, India

 

anchor chain
enough links
not to shift

Keith Evetts
Thames Ditton UK

 

silver wedding—
my son ties
the first tie knot

Dan Iulian
Bucharest, Romania

 

swing set
the height of freedom
chained to the sky

Laurie Greer
Washington, DC

 

a rose-bed
inside the iron fence
arranged marriage

Meera Rehm
UK

 

unmoored
from her life
wishing on a star

Rehn Kovacic
Mesa, AZ

 

rusted links—
I bump into
my ex

Shri Desai
Toronto, Canada

 

the long goodbye
from deck to quay
streamers intertwining

Ingrid Baluchi
North Macedonia

 

autumn twilight
a rescued child
completes the human chain

Richa Sharma
India

 

the man in her heart
on a gold neck chain
all these years

Gloria Whitney
Findley Lake, NY USA

 

fall evening
she spots a break
in the family tree

Mona Bedi
Delhi, India

 

local chain store closed
we click on the link
to order online

Sari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY

 

coming ashore
the russet hues
of sailor beards

Bryan Rickert
Belleville, Illinois

 

café after hours
tables and chairs
chained to moonlight

Barrie Levine
Wenham MA USA

 

a chain of daisies
as a necklace . . .
childhood memories

Rosa Maria Di Salvatore
Catania Italy

 

the dog
lying at master’s feet
senior home

Padma Rajeswari
Mumbai, India

 

undoing each link
how long before
I forget you

Peter Jastermsky
Morongo Valley, California

 

coffee chat with son
scrubbing the rust
off the chain link

Priti Khullar
Noida, India

 

circus elephant
the limp in her gait
as she exits the stage

Madhuri Pillai
Australia

 

childhood memories . . .
I open and close
the wrought iron gate

बचपन की यादें…
मैं खोलती और बंद करती हूँ
गढ़ा लोहे का गेट

Neena Singh
Chandigarh, India

 

the necklace
of melon pips
she still wears

Helene Guojah
UK

 

moebius strip
I tie my son’s shoelaces
with my mother’s words

Orense Nicod
Paris France

 

Sea view—
the only change
ships turning with the tide

David Gale
United Kingdom

 

thistle flower
the persistence
of weeds

Jenn Ryan-Jauregui
Tucson, Arizona USA

 

rice fields—
the farmers united by a cloud

Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi
Chivilcoy Buenos Aires Argentina

 

broken chains—
the refugees´s smiles
when boarding the barge

Julia Guzmán
Córdoba, Argentina

 

homeless—
rust flakes
from an anchor chain

Helga Stania
Switzerland

 

broken chain
the boy I linked pinkies with
now a monk

Jackie Chou
Pico Rivera CA USA

 

anchor on a field
two seagulls
watching over the sea

Mircea Moldovan
Romania

 

chain stitch—
with each loop I bring back
mother’s voice

Dorothy Burrows
United Kingdom

 

linked to us
by an invisible chain
the moon

Xiaoou Chen
Kunming, China

 

her black eyes under layers of concealer corroded connection

Devoshruti Mandal
Varanasi, India

 

gentle waterfall
outside my window
rain chain

Susan Farner
USA

 

family name
still intact on dinner napkins
grandma’s chain stitch

Melanie Vance
USA

 

daughter’s engagement
passing on to her
grandma’s golden chain

Maya Daneva
The Netherlands

 

sciarpa rossa . . .
il calore di mamma
ancora vicino

red scarf . . .
the warmth of mom
still close

Giuliana Ravaglia
Bologna Italia

 

broken chain
this year rain without
the memories

Yasir Farooq
Pakistan

 

pandemic
what sets us apart
keepsusclosertohome

Bona M. Santos
Los Angeles, CA

 

paper and pencil
I leave a trail of breadcrumbs
for the afterlife

Cynthia Anderson
Yucca Valley, California

 

rusty sea chain
the ones that never
get away

John S Green
Bellingham, WA

 

home
still a harbour
regardless

Marion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland

 

mom and dad gone
my brother’s
regular phone calls

Claire Vogel Camargo
USA

 

rusty anchor
the sails still
flapping

Mona Iordan
Romania

 

lockdown
my son draws again
swing chains

Florin C. Ciobica
Romania

 

piccola catena
in filigrana . . .
la nostra vita insieme

small chain
in filigree . . .
our life together

Angiola Inglese
Rapallo Italy

 

lockdown ends the stamping on her daisy chains

Helen Buckingham
United Kingdom

 

last line
first line . . .
haiku chain

Sue Courtney
Orewa, New Zealand

 

history lesson
a box of tire chains
at the garage sale

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
Fairlawn, Ohio USA

 

the rusty chain
at the gate
still keeps the house together

Cristina Povero
Italy

 

a gnarled stump
on the mountain peak
dry lightning

Bruce Feingold
Berkeley, CA USA

 

chained to a memory
at the wharf—
quiet storm

Wakako Miya Rollinger
Topanga, CA

 

the free balloon
flies through the unknown
with a Sharpie smile

Greer Woodward
Waimea, HI

 

strands of memories
I question if they are real
my grandmother’s pearls

Dana Clark-Millar
Oregon – USA

 

monsoon
water dancing
on rain chains

Jeff Leong
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

 

unspoken words
no beginning
or end

Didimay D. Dimacali
Norwalk, California

 

tethered
to a tree stump . . .
burnt grass

Priti Aisola
India

 

unyoked
by the moon
red tide

Pippa Phillips
Kansas City, MO, USA

 

custom order chain
my handmade little people
10 grandkids 10 cats

Kath Abela Wilson
USA

 

daisy chain
one for him one for her
summer’s last hurrah

Charles Harmon
Los Angeles, California, USA

 

chain broken . . .
too many nights
of unfaithfulness

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio, USA

 

family tree—
this branch
faintly inked

P. H. Fischer
Vancouver, Canada

Guest editor Marietta McGregor is a fourth-generation Tasmanian who has made her home between Australia’s national capital Canberra and the scenic south coast of New South Wales for over four decades. A lover of the natural world since childhood, she went on to study botany and zoology, and has worked as palynologist, garden designer, science journalist, editor, university tutor, education manager, and grants developer for the national wildlife collection. A photography and travel enthusiast since retiring, she enjoys capturing fine detail of fleeting moments. She came late to haiku, which appealed for its close observation and poetic expression of ephemeral experience. Her haiku, haibun and haiga have been widely published, have won awards and appear in anthologies.

Lori Zajkowski is the Post Manager for Haiku Dialogue. A novice haiku poet, she lives in New York City.

Managing Editor Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada, and her debut poetry collection is contractions (Red Moon Press, 2019). Find her at: kjmunro1560.wordpress.com.

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