Haiku Dialogue: What’s at Hand Week 15
Welcome to Haiku Dialogue — What’s at Hand Week 15 with Guest Editor Craig Kittner.
Let’s talk about haiku! Through June 26 we will see what 21 common objects can inspire.
Our theme for May 15 is an empty can.
Immerse yourself in the theme, then submit one original, unpublished haiku via our Contact Form. Please submit by Saturday, May 11 at 6:00 pm eastern time. Include your name as you would like it to appear and your place of residence.
By submitting you agree that your work may appear in the column — neither acknowledgment nor acceptance emails will be sent.
I will select haiku that make good use of the theme and that are likely to generate lively discussions. I’ll add some thoughts below each week’s selections to get the conversation started.
Here are my selections for a colorful insect.
she does her best
to pick the apple…
butterfly tattooAdrian Bouter
first light
landing on my finger
a monarchAgus Maulana Sunjaya
Tangerang, Indonesia
hospice
the firefly shines
now and thenAparna Pathak
evening shadows –
a red dragonfly
also blackarvinder kaur
Chandigarh, India
traffic jam
a butterfly
goes byCristina Apetrei
blue butterflies
dancing to rivers of light
infinity roomDean Okamura
flower wreath
on a girl’s head
two petals fly awayDubravka Šćukanec
Zagreb, Croatia
late spring
counting the spots
on a ladybugEdward Cody Huddleston
blue dragonfly-
dad weaves
my hairGiovanna Restuccia
Italy
cicada wings…
the life we miss
after transformationHifsa Ashraf
Pakistan
green reverence
the space she gives
the mantis on a leafJanice Munro
Canada
still alone
an iridescent fly
searches her fingerJohn Hawkhead
moth–
kitten going
for the goldLaurie Greer
Washington, DC
a small coffin
on father’s other arm
the mourning cloakMarta Chocilowska
cicada song–
lessons learned
when dad was aliveMichael Morell
Havertown, PA
transient too,
the iridescence
of a bluebottle flyMichele L. Harvey
spring day
the first green flies
on my trousersNadejda Kostadinova
Bulgaria
unloved
the fly’s tender wings
surfing thermalsnancy liddle
australia
summer solstice –
a dragonfly
begins its flightNazarena Rampini
praying mantis
green grass on the way
to the templeNeni Rusliana
Indonesia
red traffic light –
yellow butterfly
flutters onNikola Đuretić
first firefly
lighting the way
into summerPeggy Hale Bilbro
Alabama, USA
mixing with darkness
a poof of rouge –
ladybugPeter Jastermsky
jewel beetle
the symmetry and colour
missing in my lifeRashmi Vesa
snowy barn
all the red
of huddled ladybugsRich Schilling
Butterfly wings
my daughter’s first
school skitRicha Sharma
symphony in blue
between movements
damselfliesRobert Kingston
Chelmsford, Essex, UK
bedroom windowsill
a fallen ladybug
dark underbellySari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY
stealing light
from the leaves at dusk
luna mothStephen Kusch
sudden smile
bright butterflies zig zag
through the woodsSusan Bonk Plumridge
London, Canada
taking a butterfly
for a tulip blossom —
spring noonTaofeek Ayeyemi
firefly
no longer free
child’s graspThomas Young
first raindrops –
the bee in the datura blossom
doesn’t know yetTomislav Maretić
closed fist
colour comes off
the butterfly’s wingsVandana Parashar
Small beings spawn great haiku. While many may despise the insect world, a respect for crawling things serves a poet well.
Michele L. Harvey’s “transient too,” is a potent reminder that we, like the bright color of the bluebottle fly, will fade away in time.
Marta Chocilowska tells us much with very little. By the words she chose, we can surmise that the narrator is holding onto her father’s other arm, and (since the coffin is small) that she is a child and the deceased is her sibling. The juxtaposition of this sad scene with the beauty of the aptly named butterfly provides a rich experience.
Tomislav Maretić evokes a nice sense of fellow feeling for his insect. Both are about to be caught in the rain, but only he is aware of it. Perhaps he wishes he could warn the bee.
Two haiku this week call to mind Moritake’s “a fallen blossom.” One, Taofeek Ayeyemi’s “taking a butterfly,” in which the narrator mistakes the insect for a tulip. Was it in the act of sniffing that the mistake was discovered? Two, Dubravka Šćukanec’s “flower wreath” from which two petals fly away. The fun thing here is that it could be a butterfly flying from the wreath, or it could literally be two petals, blown away by the wind, which makes the poet think of a butterfly.
I can’t remember the last time I tried to count the spots on a ladybug, but Edward Cody Huddleston’s little delight inspires me to do so the next time I see one. The act strikes me as an effective antidote for stress.
What’s not said in Cristina Apetrei’s haiku gives it power. What can you say of a traffic jam? This ridiculous situation that makes us so angry . . . and here’s a butterfly. End rhyme is often problematic in haiku, but in this case I think it works. It underscores the bouncy speed of the butterfly, contrasted with the dead stillness of the cars.
What do you appreciate that others may revile? Please share your thoughts with us.
Guest Editor Craig Kittner lives near the banks of the Cape Fear River in Wilmington, North Carolina. He has worked as a gallery director in Washington, DC, and a program director for the Kentucky Arts Council. He took second prize in the North Carolina Poetry Society Bloodroot Haiku Award for 2019.
Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada and an Associate Member of the League of Canadian Poets. She co-edited an anthology of crime-themed haiku called Body of Evidence: a collection of killer ’ku.
This Post Has 29 Comments
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hospice
the firefly shines
now and then
Aparna Pathak
How true, whether in hospice or an Alzheimer’s facility. My mom always smiles when she sees me when I visit from out of state, but the conversation can be challenging!
transient too,
the iridescence
of a bluebottle fly
Michele L. Harvey
We all shine for a time, then fade, making a place for the next bluebottle fly to shine.
first firefly
lighting the way
into summer
Peggy Hale Bilbro
I keep track of my first firefly sighting in my phone each year. Not serious record keeping, but it does signal something magical to me, too.
Butterfly wings
my daughter’s first
school skit
Richa Sharma
My only daughter was never a butterfly, but her eight year old picture in her light blue and white tutu adorns my desk! How precious these memories are to each of us.
stealing light
from the leaves at dusk
luna moth
Stephen Kusch
I have no memories related to this moment, Stephen, but admiration for a well-crafted poem.
closed fist
colour comes off
the butterfly’s wings
Vandana Parashar
I have experienced this, too. My aunt, years ago, told me that she and her childhood friends would smear lightening bug glow on their fingers and chase other children. Even as a child, I did not “take a shine to” this type of activity. But your poem brought back that memory. My, how we have become more attuned to loving nature and not destroying it!
Nice poems, everyone!
Ron
Ron, somehow I missed your kind comment before – thanks for that! I vividly remember luna moths, large and pale green, emerging from their secret places beneath the paving stones. Beautiful, and also eery. Thanks again!
Steve
traffic jam
a butterfly
goes by
Cristina Apetrei
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Love thzis, Cristina!
Best wishes,
Marta
Loved all the contributions this week. Insects and haiku are perfect together.
There is no juxtaposition but what a lovely haiku!
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late spring
counting the spots
on a ladybug
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Edward Cody Huddleston
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The Moon is Broken: Juxtaposition in haiku
https://area17.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-moon-is-broken-juxtaposition-in.html
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We have a seasonal reference although I think of ladybugs as a Summer phenomenon, but anyone who appreciates insects, and ladybugs, realise that there’s a lot of different spots when it comes to this intriguing insect.
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Love the haiku!
Thank you Craig.
I feel honored to be included among works such as these. Thank you for allowing me to contribute.
first raindrops –
the bee in the datura blossom
doesn’t know yet
.
Tomislav Maretić
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The only bee, and worth the wait.
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Normally, I find stative verbs in haiku rather numbing (they are more tell than show), but here “doesn’t know yet” sets up the contrast between dry inside and wet outside.
Thank you for including my haiku among these wonderful selections ! I am partial to these other ladybug haiku too, I must say, as they are a feature here where I live.,
late spring
counting the spots
on a ladybug
Edward Cody Huddleston
mixing with darkness
a poof of rouge –
ladybug
Peter Jastermsky
snowy barn
all the red
of huddled ladybugs
Rich Schilling
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snowy barn
all the red
of huddled ladybugs
.
Rich Schilling
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Love the opening line but then I do love snow! 🙂
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i like the choice of a short line, and the enjambment of stopping/line breaking at:
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“all the red”
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It’s not just the contrast of white (snow) and red (bloodshed or warmth of a fire etc…) but how it hangs into ‘negative space’ waiting to be completed.
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An incredible last line of:
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“of huddled ladybugs”
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This haiku fires off all cylinders, and makes me think of the death of Princess Diana, although that happened one year after the ladybird plague of 1976:
https://www.lep.co.uk/news/environment/do-you-remember-the-ladybird-plague-of-1976-this-is-why-britain-s-latest-heatwave-hasn-t-caused-another-plague-1-9272481
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The contradictory feelings of ‘huddled’ which can often mean danger, risk, hiding, along with romantic scenes around a campfire or home fireside, and a barn covered in snow, spark off so much for me, from the literal natural history scene, to refugees and spiritual leaders or followers in danger and being saved, or the Jewish population from Nazis or the Stalinist Pograms etc…
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Powerful haiku, and good to see interesting line breaks and “line alignment” decisions to elevate a poem.
Thanks to Craig! Thanks to Alan for reading my haiku and digging into it. You are the king of comments and I’m happy to be a recipient.
Bright insects are such a fragile beauty and yet amazingly they often touch us—sometimes by their own choice (as in Agus Maulana Sunjaya’s monarch butterfly; John Hawkhead’s iridescent fly; Marta Chocilowska’s mourning cloak butterfly; and Nadejda Kostadinova’s green flies) and sometimes not by their own choice (as in Thomas Young’s firefly and Vandana Parashar’s butterfly).
Perhaps we need beautiful insects to teach us not to be afraid.
“Perhaps we need beautiful insects to teach us not to be afraid.”
Beautiful, Susan.
Having seen my first colourful moth for the season, yesterday, I am in a butterfly frame of mind. I am also waiting for the tulips to flower…so Taofeek’s optical illusion delights me:
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taking a butterfly
for a tulip blossom —
spring noon
.
Taofeek Ayeyemi
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Though some insects make us cringe, there are ones that we treasure…whether they land on us or visit our homes and gardens. We enjoy them so much that we include them in art, tattoos, clothing design and haiku. Thank you Craig, for bringing these poems together and for including my mantis.
So many beautiful poems–wonderful to see such appreciation for creatures we treat so badly.
Thanks for this prompt, Craig.
Some that blew me away:
*
first light
landing on my finger
a monarch
Agus Maulana Sunjaya
Tangerang, Indonesia
this is really lovely–the fragility of light and butterfly, both so barely there yet tremendously important
*
cicada wings…
the life we miss
after transformation
Hifsa Ashraf
Pakistan
I love this one–so often the focus is on the new state, with seldom a thought for the one left behind, which was surely valuable in its own right.
*
hospice
the firefly shines
now and then
Aparna Pathak
even–especially–in the hospice, the insects give beauty and comfort. wonderfully observed
*
evening shadows –
a red dragonfly
also black
arvinder kaur
Chandigarh, India
everything with more than one side–important to remember…and the way the colors work with the time of day, just beautiful
*
flower wreath
on a girl’s head
two petals fly away
Dubravka Šćukanec
Zagreb, Croatia
both of these: magical–for reasons people have already mentioned
a small coffin
on father’s other arm
the mourning cloak
Marta Chocilowska
*
first firefly
lighting the way
into summer
Peggy Hale Bilbro
Alabama, USA
something so triumphant as well as beautiful here, as if the firefly is an Olympic torch
*
stealing light
from the leaves at dusk
luna moth
Stephen Kusch
fantastic–the moth at and as the moment of transformation of day into night, and of course the moon association of the name, a very rich image
*
sudden smile
bright butterflies zig zag
through the woods
Susan Bonk Plumridge
London, Canada
catching the crucial connection: butterflies as smiles and causing them.
*
Thank you Laurie for liking and commenting on my haiku. Treasure and appreciate each word. love,arvinder
Thank you very much, Laurie, for mentioning my haiku!
Love
marta
Thank you for your comments on my haiku, Laurie. I agree that this prompt elicited a beautiful collection of haiku.
Laurie – thanks for your beautiful and insightful reading of my poem.
Steve
Dear Marta
Reading your haiku,again and again ,reading into it. Something catchy.
Appreciate.
mall coffin
on father’s other arm
the mourning cloak
Marta Chocilowska
Thank you very much for your reading into my poem and for your comment.
Love, Marta
Dear Craig,
Greetings. Lovely the colorful flies hopping around. Reading Marta’s with a powerful ” mourning cloak” triggers many a reading into the write.
mall coffin
on father’s other arm
the mourning cloak
Marta Chocilowska
Thanks for including my work, Craig. My first contribution here.
Thank you for publishing my haiku and for your wonderful commentary, Craig. I am very happy and honored!
Marta
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a small coffin
on father’s other arm
the mourning cloak
.
Marta Chocilowska
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Richard Gilbert talks about the power of misreading as a potent tool in haiku, and this can make for a powerful ‘misread’ haiku.
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The opening line is powerful, of course, as we know it’s a child’s coffin, which feels wrong whether death is by natural causes or the ongoing practice of targeting children, and mothers, in conflicts around the world.
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a small coffin
on father’s other arm
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My initial misreading made this painfully powerful. Is a coffin so small it could ‘rest’ on a person’s/parent’s arm?
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I like how I can read the first two lines together and the last and third line as a separate line stating atmospherically as:
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the mourning cloak
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I haven’t seen mourning cloaks in funerals but the starkness, if I make that a separate statement is very strong in resonance and tension.
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I can also by misreading switch from a human child and human parent, to an allegorical treatment about crows, as the law is passing in the U.K. where they can be murdered any time of day at any place out in the open.
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It reminds me of the tale of who killed Cock Robin, as we are about to continue the systematic multi-genocide of other animals (incl. insects) where a million species will cease to exist within a decade.
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The mourning cloak feels symbolic in many ways, other than being literal and is incredibly powerful if we see it as more than an item of clothing.
Thank you, Alan for your wonderful comment! I am especially pleased with the dual meaning of “mourning cloak” – the butterfly and item of clothing. To say that I am happy is not to say anything. Thank you very much!
Love, Marta
To
Alan,
Dear esteemed poet,
Interpreting Robert Gilbert’s” misread” ,very interesting. Also various approaches to Marta’s powerful haiku,especially the “third line” insightful into the potential wording ” cloak” wonderfully drawn by you.
with regards
S.Radhamani
Good meaty academic essay on misreading and other aspects regarding haiku practice! 🙂
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Plausible deniability: Nature as hypothesis in English-language haiku
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Richard Gilbert, Kumamoto University
https://www.pala.ac.uk/uploads/2/5/1/0/25105678/gilbert2007.pdf
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Thank you very much for this essay, Alan!
Best wishes,
Marta