re:Virals 416

Welcome to re:Virals, The Haiku Foundation’s weekly commentary feature on some of your favorites among the best contemporary haiku and senryu written in English. This week’s poem, proposed by Sébastien Revon, was:

     
     the magnolia
     wasn’t ours, yet its absence
     is
     — Patricia J. Machmiller
     Kingfisher #6, October 2022  

Introducing this poem, Sébastien writes:

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.

Opening comment:

When I first saw this verse in the Touchstone long list, I had that shiver that comes with an unexpected insight into truth.  At the risk of brickbats, I contend that this is the essence of the best, the least ephemeral, of the genre.  Part of the spirit of haiku. It stood apart from the rest, and went immediately into my small file of favourites.

Our world: our own small world or the whole world we share: whose is it?  A tree, on whoeversland, matures and becomes magnificent, enduring… and familiar.  Loved, even if we don’t know it until it is destroyed.  This remarkable haiku accentuates the feeling of love and loss by juxtaposing its presence, in the past, with its absence now — in the present.  Human feelings are projected way beyond, that seem to defy rationality.   When something that we loved disappears for ever, part of us dies too, and perhaps only then do we realise that love.   Now, this tree. What price this whole planet of living things?

Patricia J. Machmiller’s haiku, in its plain words, is easily distinguished from the everyday haiku that appear everywhere, just as its insight stands out from the host with re-hashed memes.   Its form and crafting are unusual and original, a sign, perhaps, of someone who has comfortably absorbed the conventions of haiku and now goes beyond them. The two parts are equal,  consonant with the theme. There is one image, and it is in the past, the cut and the contrast being with its absence, a conceptual thing. Possibly we picture the scene with and without the magnolia. We may take the magnolia as a spring reference (anyone who has seen a magnolia in full bloom will straight away go to that image). The last word, “is,” is powerful, assertive: the “isness” of things, even of an absence. Remarkable.  I gave thought to how the words might be rearranged the better to fit conventions: my efforts were inferior. The verse as written looks, sounds, and feels right.

Congratulations to Patricia, and to Tanya McDonald, the editor of Kingfisher.

Jennifer Gurney:

Such a subtle, yet poignant haiku.

What came to my mind when reading this poem is the impact trees have on multiple lives in a neighborhood. Often, a tree lives on one side of a property line, but impacts those living on both sides. While the impact can be positive or negative, in this case it feels wistful. Pining, even. The person living next door is missing the presence of the fragrant, beautiful tree that is no longer there.

Like Robert Frost’s iconic line “good fences make good neighbors,” this poem speaks to the impact trees have on neighbors.

I also like how the magnolia tree takes on an almost human presence in this poem. Trees can very much be our best friends, our companions, our confidants. We watch them grow, we enjoy them while they are here and we miss them when they are gone. Much like the people and animals in our lives. And sometimes, they become part of our daily landscape and their presence is missed when that is altered.

I truly love how Machmiller cuts and ends the poem on line three with the solo word: is. Powerfully done.

Olinda Nikolakis:

The brevity of the last line is eye-catching and thought provoking. I resonate with the idea of the absence of the magnolia in a city street where one has grown accustomed to its presence, for example, walking to work or school. I can think of such a tree I would greatly miss if it suddenly disappeared. On another level, perhaps it is the end of spring and only the magnificent blossoms have disappeared, rather than the whole tree, from view. The reader is invited to question to whom a tree belongs: those who enjoy its beauty, those who planted it or those who destroyed it? Or many more interpretations. Perhaps the tree has been over-cropped by a gardener ? There is a very pleasing notion of impermanence in this haiku. The idea that we must seize the day, seize the magnolia tree in our appreciation of its beauty, because it won’t last forever.

Lakshmi Iyer:

A very funny feeling altogether that a person who stays close to us for a very long time leaves us, that’s the time when we think of them the most. It can be anything. A flower, a pet, a tree, the well, your favourite handkerchief, favourite mug, etc. This is the essence behind the poem by Patricia.

It could have been our neighbour’s magnolia for which we would have had teeny-weeny fights, arguments, etc. Nevertheless now when it’s gone, we start to own it, even to the extend that we postulate that it was seeded by us, watered by us, taken care of at every level. What’s the happiness behind showing off something contrasted with actually working on it? Our level of understanding, thinking, discrimination and perspectives shouldn’t depend on the necessity. It should be a self-taught regard of equality. Whether present or not, it should be one and the same.

A well balanced poem and simple! Thank you.

Nairithi Konduru (aged eight):

This is sort of like a sentence with a punctuation mark in between in L2.

This verse could mean that we are jealous. The reason is, a Magnolia is very beautiful and we feel a little jealous of our neighbours who have it but when we go to visit our grandparents and we look at our grandparents’ neighbour’s house and see no Magnolia tree, we like to own its absence.

A Magnolia tree is like one’s favourite stuffed toy which one loves very much but when one doesn’t take care of it one loses it. It’s the same way with a Magnolia tree.

From the poem, it also looks like someone who is loved very much is missing.

Jonathan Epstein:

I see an older couple living in a small home. Hanging half over a wood fence in their grassy backyard is the neighbor’s magnolia, the scent of its lotus blooms welcomed by the couple each spring. One day the tree is gone and the couple is bereft.

The telling word in this haiku is the minuscule “is.” A plebeian word, a functional and mostly unnoticed word, a word some languages do without; yet set alone, it quietly proclaims the psychic presence of the tree — “its absence is.”’

The sole image is “the magnolia,” a particular one that is loved, but if ‘magnolia’ doesn’t work for you, touch the emotion by substituting the name of something that wasn’t “yours“ — yet once gone, was cause for grief.

One morning a year ago, the 40-year-old giant Burmese honeysuckle vine by our condominium pool was gone, uprooted and carted away overnight. It was not “ours“ but maintained by monthly homeowners fees. I mourned its loss, not realizing how entwined it was with memories of a related vine that climbed the back of my childhood home. Surprisingly, it was the fragrance of the flowers that was central to my sense of loss.

A poignant haiku that reminds us that nothing loved is truly lost. Legal ownership is one thing; emotional connections are the ties that bind. What we once held close to our hearts, when gone from the physical plane, finds new life inside us.

Dan Campbell — missing the magnificent magnolia:

Thank you Patricia for honoring magnolia trees in your poem. As a forestry student many years ago, the magnolia tree was one of my favorite trees and remains so today. There are many reasons to miss a magnificent magnolia tree that vanishes.

Magnolia trees, with their striking flowers and unique history, hold a special place in the world of horticulture and human culture. These exquisite trees are renowned for their ancient lineage, breathtaking blooms, and diverse species.

Magnolia trees, belonging to the Magnoliaceae family, are among the most ancient flowering plants on Earth. Fossil records indicate that magnolias have been around for over 95 million years, dating back to the time of dinosaurs. This long evolutionary history contributes to their unique botanical features and resilience in various ecosystems.

One of the most captivating aspects of magnolia trees is their magnificent blossoms. These large, fragrant flowers, which can vary in color from pure white to vibrant shades of pink, purple, and even yellow, are a visual treat for nature enthusiasts and gardeners alike. The unique cup-shaped petals, often accompanied by cone-like structures called carpels, make magnolia blooms easily recognizable. The blossoms are not only visually appealing but also emit a delightful fragrance, attracting pollinators like beetles and butterflies.

Magnolia trees play a significant role in various ecosystems. They provide food and habitat for a range of wildlife, including birds, insects, and small mammals. Some magnolia species produce cone-like structures filled with bright red seeds that serve as a food source for birds like turkeys and quails during the winter months. Additionally, magnolias contribute to soil health by shedding leaves and creating nutrient-rich litter, enriching the soil and supporting the growth of other plants.

Beyond their ecological importance, magnolia trees hold cultural significance in many parts of the world. In the United States, the southern magnolia is an iconic symbol of the American South, often associated with grace and hospitality. Its glossy evergreen leaves and large, fragrant blossoms have made it a favorite ornamental tree in the region. In Asia, magnolias have been revered for centuries, symbolizing purity and nobility in Chinese and Japanese cultures.

With their ancient lineage, captivating blooms, ecological roles, and cultural significance, magnolias continue to enchant and inspire people around the world. It would be impossible not to miss or be saddened by the disappearance of such a majestic tree.

Author Patricia J. Machmiller:

Thank you, Sébastien, for picking my haiku for discussion this week. I look forward to hearing the feedback of re:Virals readers.

This poem is rooted in the history of the neighborhood where I live. Fifty-six years ago our young family moved into a new house in a new neighborhood. The development was on farmland at what was then the outskirts of San Jose. There were no trees except the ones we planted—the new homeowners and the city. The city planted slow-growing coastal oaks along the curbs and the new owners planted trees in the front yards and backyards. We have a big elm in our front yard. Another neighbor planted a magnolia. The trees grew up along with our kids; over the years some people left, and new owners moved in. As I have grown older and walk the neighborhood, I am grateful for the many shade trees we have now, especially in the summertime. One day a year or so ago, I discovered a new neighbor had cut down the beautiful spreading magnolia. I was shocked that it could happen—that someone didn’t appreciate the tree and the shade it gave. It hurt my heart. This haiku is a paean to that tree, and a kind of plea for the protection of all trees. I also hope the poem prompts some thought about ownership—what’s the boundary between private and public ownership?

A word about the form: I do appreciate the three-line haiku form in English; I find the construct of two parts flowing over three lines to be a tantalizing challenge; I find it offers the poet opportunities to create soundscapes that are both lyrical and surprising. I was aware that putting “is” on a line by itself, especially the last line was a bit risky. I wasn’t sure that it would be up to the job of landing the poem. I am looking forward to hearing what the commenters on re:Virals think.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, albeit it focused on the tree perhaps more than the haiku per se, but with such infectious enthusiasm, Dan has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be as long or short, academic or spontaneous, serious or silly, public or personal as you like. All with respect for the poet. Out-takes from the best of these take their place in the THF Archives. Best of all, the chosen commentary’s author gets to pick the next poem.

Anyone can participate. Simply use the re:Virals commentary form below to enter your commentary on the new week’s poem (“Your text”) by the following Tuesday midnight, Eastern US Time Zone, and then press Submit to send your entry. The Submit button will not be available until Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in. We look forward to seeing your commentary and finding out about your favourite poems!

Poem for commentary:

     on the tip
     of the bird's beak
     a drop of rainbow
     — Earl Livings 
     Shamrock, issue 47, 2022

The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy.

Footnote:

A short bio, photograph and list of publications of distinguished past Touchstone award winner Patricia J. Machmiller may be found at the American Haiku Archives (of which she is an advisory Board Member) here. There is an article by Patricia giving some of her favourite haiku in the pages of the New Zealand Poetry Society.

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Lest some may cavil – perish the thought! – at haiku that sound in part like a statement, sentence-like aphorism or proverb, yet  offer deep and original insight, let me offer:

the dew of the rouge flower
when it is spilled
is simply water
— Chiyo-ni
(…magic!)

the child’s imitation
is more wonderful
than the real cormorant
Issa

Surely we would not turn down those submissions.

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I’m fortunate to live in a designated conservation area that has a number of fine trees, where it is not allowed to cut any trunk or branch over three inches in diameter without first seeking formal permission from the local planning authority. In addition, more widely in the borough, anyone can apply to have a Tree Preservation Order placed on any tree, if the inspector agrees, so that it may not be cut down or heavily pruned without prior permission. The inspectors take a sensible view, accounting for the health of the tree, as well as the public amenity it offers including its visual aspects, when considering the wishes of the landowner.  A commendable practice.