May I paste here, my commentary of this wonderful verse, that had appeared in re:virals 416?
“Keith’s shortlist proved to be helpful again when I was stuck for time to go and look for outstanding haiku. And this one is indeed outstanding. It clicked with me instantly and reverberated deeply. I hope you will find this haiku as mind-compelling as I did. It took me about two to three seconds to connect to this poem. It took just a few more seconds for it to resonate fully with me and to trigger what I am about to write.
This poem is a haiku. It has a kigo with the word magnolia which is implicitly in full bloom and suddenly it is not… anymore. This is the first twist in this haiku: the use of the past tense “wasn’t…” in the beginning of L2. That statement “the magnolia wasn’t ours” is laid out in a rather unusual way over two lines. Indeed L2 is split into two parts with the presence of the comma in the middle, a natural cut in the poem. Then, we have the pivotal word of the poem in “absence”, the concept of which the poem will ask us to wonder about. And yet, another implied pause rather than a cut happens at the end of L2 after “absence” which creates suspense in the verse. The final twist comes in L3 with the present tense, in effect juxtaposed in contrast with the past tense of the same verb at the beginning of L2. Kigo, cut, juxtaposition. This is a haiku; and yet it feels like a sentence with a comma. So what?
This haiku is a I thought I had for many months, looking at the agapanthus or the hydrangea in my garden. Not my agapanthus but the agapanthus, not my hydrangea but the hydrangea. And so, is my garden mine? What belongs to us? What do we own?
The flamboyance of the magnolia in bloom is like an ideal of beauty that we are naturally attracted to. When something close or dear to us is gone, what of it is left within us? I might extrapolate too much but this poem reminded me of the thought I had once about my son, aged 9. Is my son mine? I mean, does his life belong to me? Surely not! He is a being, an individual like any of us, part of Nature. I only was part of its origin. Only if he’d be gone before me, God forbid, he would become my pain, he would remain in my memory, the memory and pain of his mother too obviously… And of course he would live in me until I die.
This poem is a haiku I wish I had written. A haiku that was in me for months but didn’t come out. This is a haiku that we all have within us. It is universal. It is a gem, I dare to say, a beautifully and gracefully polished gem.
I am so grateful for Patricia Machmiller.”
My humble gratitude to Vidya for choosing my poem for today and for your comments, Keith and Alan.
A pleasure, Patricia!
the magnolia wasn’t ours, yet its absence is — Patricia J. Machmiller, Kingfisher #6, 2022
This verse, which made the long list for the Touchstone Award in 2022, has that electric effect which comes with a profound observation and insight, succinctly expressed. It is all in the words and in the mind. And in the heart. It needs no explanation: it just…is.
It may have been a struggle to arrange this two-part verse over three lines to fit the orthodox presentation of haiku in English, but there are benefits. The reader pauses after ‘the magnolia,’ with a mental picture of the tree in bloom. That the word ‘is’ is the only word on the last line gives it weight. Absence exists.
The following year, the beautiful sycamore at Sycamore Gap on Hadrian’s Wall was wantonly, scandalously felled by two vandals from Cumbria. They were found, tried, and convicted. If ever Patricia’s haiku was to be illustrated, it was now, it was this. The international outpouring of revulsion and sorrow was greatly moving. That tree belonged to no one, yet its absence belonged to us, left a hole in us, all.
A statement haiku that deserves to be in collections and anthologies, in my view. When some of my educated old chums scoff at modern haiku over lunch, this is one of the verses I trot out to rebut them. It is pithy, and captures a single thought in a memorable way.
An instant classic haiku!
the magnolia wasn’t ours, yet its absence is — Patricia J. Machmiller, Kingfisher #6, 2022
It captures that everydayness that we might aspire to bring in its “other light”. I’m reminded of our lovely neighbours where the husband was upset our overgrown blackberry bramble was cut back! We hadn’t done that, it was a gardener while they were away that they’d hired. BUT he said he loves picking the blackberries that hang over his driveway, close to a little seating area.
Our blackberry bramble has really gone rampant, though it encourages the sparrows to stay all year at our house (both in the rafters and in the huge fairytale sized bramble).
He was lamenting the absence of those thick juicy blackberries.
And of course it’s a common aspect that a neighbour’s bush, tree, feature is mourned as much as if we have lost something personal, and it is personal, it’s part of our collective of everyday treasures.
On the Safari platform, which I still use, as well as Chrome, it actually does come over as a quatrain:
the magnolia wasn’t ours, yet its absence is
It works just as well as the 3-line chosen presentation.
Which interestingly if we read each other “beginning” word, becomes:
the wasn’t yet is
It’s powerful in its own right and more so if one more word was added:
the wasn’t yet is magnolia
the wasn’t yet is the moon
Or more correctly:
the wasn’t yet is our second moon
I could mention Barsoom though they don’t have prehistoric magnolia trees like we do.
The sycamore at Sycamore Gap on Hadrian’s Wall was an international loss as well, many many ‘neighbours’ were in shock and in mourning.
The 1991 film ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’, starring Alan Rickman with Kevin Costner, was filmed there. The tree has been known as The Robin Hood Tree ever since.
European Tree of the Year 2017, and Hollywood USA most famous tree: The Sycamore Gap Tree SPECIES: SYCAMORE (ACER PSEUDOPLATANUS) AGE: SEVERAL HUNDRED YEARS REGION: HADRIAN'S WALL, NORTHUMBERLAND, ENGLAND, UK https://www.treeoftheyear.org/previous-years/2017/Javor-v-prikrem-udoli
There are really no satisfactory words to appease the loss of this fellow living entity.
That’s why Patricia’s haiku is just that, a superb and sublime and classic modern or timeless poem and haiku for me.
It’s an everyperson/ everywhere / everydayness haiku:
the Sycamore wasn’t ours, yet its absence is
Perhaps a rare case of needing and retaining the capital letter, of S in uppercase for the Sycamore.
Thanks for choosing this immortal verse!
Alan
Alan, so glad we share our appreciation of this haiku as a modern classic! Let’s keep it alive….
It’s still super upsetting and don’t want to understand the mindset to destroy something so utterly beautiful and iconic, appeared in a Hollywood Robin Hood movie, beloved of so many people.
Some haiku just deserve classic status as soon as the poem appears in front of every reader!
May I paste here, my commentary of this wonderful verse, that had appeared in re:virals 416?
“Keith’s shortlist proved to be helpful again when I was stuck for time to go and look for outstanding haiku. And this one is indeed outstanding. It clicked with me instantly and reverberated deeply. I hope you will find this haiku as mind-compelling as I did. It took me about two to three seconds to connect to this poem. It took just a few more seconds for it to resonate fully with me and to trigger what I am about to write.
This poem is a haiku. It has a kigo with the word magnolia which is implicitly in full bloom and suddenly it is not… anymore. This is the first twist in this haiku: the use of the past tense “wasn’t…” in the beginning of L2. That statement “the magnolia wasn’t ours” is laid out in a rather unusual way over two lines. Indeed L2 is split into two parts with the presence of the comma in the middle, a natural cut in the poem. Then, we have the pivotal word of the poem in “absence”, the concept of which the poem will ask us to wonder about. And yet, another implied pause rather than a cut happens at the end of L2 after “absence” which creates suspense in the verse. The final twist comes in L3 with the present tense, in effect juxtaposed in contrast with the past tense of the same verb at the beginning of L2. Kigo, cut, juxtaposition. This is a haiku; and yet it feels like a sentence with a comma. So what?
This haiku is a I thought I had for many months, looking at the agapanthus or the hydrangea in my garden. Not my agapanthus but the agapanthus, not my hydrangea but the hydrangea. And so, is my garden mine? What belongs to us? What do we own?
The flamboyance of the magnolia in bloom is like an ideal of beauty that we are naturally attracted to. When something close or dear to us is gone, what of it is left within us? I might extrapolate too much but this poem reminded me of the thought I had once about my son, aged 9. Is my son mine? I mean, does his life belong to me? Surely not! He is a being, an individual like any of us, part of Nature. I only was part of its origin. Only if he’d be gone before me, God forbid, he would become my pain, he would remain in my memory, the memory and pain of his mother too obviously… And of course he would live in me until I die.
This poem is a haiku I wish I had written. A haiku that was in me for months but didn’t come out. This is a haiku that we all have within us. It is universal. It is a gem, I dare to say, a beautifully and gracefully polished gem.
I am so grateful for Patricia Machmiller.”
My humble gratitude to Vidya for choosing my poem for today and for your comments, Keith and Alan.
A pleasure, Patricia!
the magnolia
wasn’t ours, yet its absence
is
— Patricia J. Machmiller, Kingfisher #6, 2022
This verse, which made the long list for the Touchstone Award in 2022, has that electric effect which comes with a profound observation and insight, succinctly expressed. It is all in the words and in the mind. And in the heart. It needs no explanation: it just…is.
It may have been a struggle to arrange this two-part verse over three lines to fit the orthodox presentation of haiku in English, but there are benefits. The reader pauses after ‘the magnolia,’ with a mental picture of the tree in bloom. That the word ‘is’ is the only word on the last line gives it weight. Absence exists.
The following year, the beautiful sycamore at Sycamore Gap on Hadrian’s Wall was wantonly, scandalously felled by two vandals from Cumbria. They were found, tried, and convicted. If ever Patricia’s haiku was to be illustrated, it was now, it was this. The international outpouring of revulsion and sorrow was greatly moving. That tree belonged to no one, yet its absence belonged to us, left a hole in us, all.
A statement haiku that deserves to be in collections and anthologies, in my view. When some of my educated old chums scoff at modern haiku over lunch, this is one of the verses I trot out to rebut them. It is pithy, and captures a single thought in a memorable way.
An instant classic haiku!
the magnolia
wasn’t ours, yet its absence
is
— Patricia J. Machmiller, Kingfisher #6, 2022
It captures that everydayness that we might aspire to bring in its “other light”. I’m reminded of our lovely neighbours where the husband was upset our overgrown blackberry bramble was cut back! We hadn’t done that, it was a gardener while they were away that they’d hired. BUT he said he loves picking the blackberries that hang over his driveway, close to a little seating area.
Our blackberry bramble has really gone rampant, though it encourages the sparrows to stay all year at our house (both in the rafters and in the huge fairytale sized bramble).
He was lamenting the absence of those thick juicy blackberries.
And of course it’s a common aspect that a neighbour’s bush, tree, feature is mourned as much as if we have lost something personal, and it is personal, it’s part of our collective of everyday treasures.
On the Safari platform, which I still use, as well as Chrome, it actually does come over as a quatrain:
the magnolia
wasn’t ours,
yet its absence
is
It works just as well as the 3-line chosen presentation.
Which interestingly if we read each other “beginning” word, becomes:
the wasn’t yet is
It’s powerful in its own right and more so if one more word was added:
the wasn’t yet is magnolia
the wasn’t yet is the moon
Or more correctly:
the wasn’t yet is our second moon
I could mention Barsoom though they don’t have prehistoric magnolia trees like we do.
The sycamore at Sycamore Gap on Hadrian’s Wall was an international loss as well, many many ‘neighbours’ were in shock and in mourning.
For instance:
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-tyne-67206534
The 1991 film ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’, starring Alan Rickman with Kevin Costner, was filmed there. The tree has been known as The Robin Hood Tree ever since.
European Tree of the Year 2017, and Hollywood USA most famous tree:
The Sycamore Gap Tree
SPECIES: SYCAMORE (ACER PSEUDOPLATANUS)
AGE: SEVERAL HUNDRED YEARS
REGION: HADRIAN'S WALL, NORTHUMBERLAND, ENGLAND, UK
https://www.treeoftheyear.org/previous-years/2017/Javor-v-prikrem-udoli
There are really no satisfactory words to appease the loss of this fellow living entity.
That’s why Patricia’s haiku is just that, a superb and sublime and classic modern or timeless poem and haiku for me.
It’s an everyperson/ everywhere / everydayness haiku:
the Sycamore
wasn’t ours, yet its absence
is
Perhaps a rare case of needing and retaining the capital letter, of S in uppercase for the Sycamore.
Thanks for choosing this immortal verse!
Alan
Alan, so glad we share our appreciation of this haiku as a modern classic! Let’s keep it alive….
Sycamore photos: https://www.iphotography.com/blog/amazing-photos-of-the-sycamore-gap-tree/
Yes!
It’s still super upsetting and don’t want to understand the mindset to destroy something so utterly beautiful and iconic, appeared in a Hollywood Robin Hood movie, beloved of so many people.
Some haiku just deserve classic status as soon as the poem appears in front of every reader!
Alan