re:Virals 527

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.  In the host chair today is Keith. This week’s poem, chosen by Carol Reynolds was:

   
cousins' meet-up—
getting used to being
the older generation
— Maeve O'Sullivan
  in Wasp on the Prayer Flag, Alba Publishing, 2021

Introducing this poem, Carol writes:

I chose this haiku because the wording reflects where my life, and that of my cousins, is right now. During our respective childhoods we were fortunate to enjoy that special connection with our grandparents and shared many happy times with aunts and uncles, listening to their life experiences from a time so different to today. Sadly, the circle of life has turned, and now my cousins and I are the older generation. There is a sense of vulnerability that comes with being elders of the tribe. Today’s grandchildren have little time to stop and listen to grandparents’ life stories. When we do have a cousins meet up we applaud ourselves for still being together and reminisce about past times when we were the younger generation.

Host comment (Keith):

With mild self-deprecatory humour, this gentle senryu, tailor-made for the ageing haiku community, shares a fairly widespread experience in plain words. It is commendably detached: no wallowing in melancholy here, no painful striving for poetic effect. No nonsense. As a focus for meditation (a critical aspect of the genre) there is more to it than meets the eye.

From day to day we age imperceptibly, at least until the twinges and other reminders of old age demand daily attention. The key to this verse is that the event—the cousins’ meet-up—throws ageing into sudden relief. We see the cousins with whom we played as youngsters, now adults with children of their own (the children no doubt impatient to be older). We are made aware of the generations. And notably, only cousins are referenced. The implication is that there are no uncles or aunts: none of our parents still live. We’re next, and we’d better come to terms with it.

Meanwhile, our hopes of being listened to, of being thought wise, are probably dashed by the exuberance of the younger element. If only we anglophones lived in a society where age is revered….

See Footnote for Claude’s evaluation, if interested.

Urszula Marciniak:

When do we realize we’re already an older generation?
Is it when strange children start calling us “sir” or “ma’am”?
Is it when rheumatic pains help us anticipate autumn rain?
Is it when we say, “Oh, these young people today”?
Or perhaps when, instead of planning, we reminisce?
Is there a moment when we consciously accept it?
Maybe we simply don’t have the strength to continue fighting for our youth.

If these questions aren’t already swirling in your head, remember that they will arise sooner than you think. I know you won’t believe me now.

I’m reminded of the haiku about the little girl waving inside the reflection of an elderly woman in a subway window. I hope she’s not waving goodbye and that this young person remains deep in the heart and mind of this elderly woman.

Dan Campbell:

This poem made me think of our recent family reunion. In September, we gathered at the old Winthrop Quaker church in Harmony, North Carolina—the same one where our parents once organized potlucks and sang hymns with the windows open to the breeze.

Me and several of my cousins, gray-haired now, some of us with canes or careful steps, were swapping stories as if no time had passed at all. Yet somewhere between the laughter and the second helping of apple pie, I felt it settle in: we’ve become the older generation. Without fanfare, without notice, the baton was passed.

I caught myself watching the younger ones—their easy energy, their phones out snapping pictures—and realized we were once them. Now we are the storytellers, the ones keeping the names and the memories alive.

There’s a photo someone took that day: cousins leaning in close, smiling at something unseen. In the foreground—laughter. In the middle ground—recognition. And in the background, though blurred, the quiet presence of all who came before us.

Radhamani Sarma:

A mild satire depicting a reversal into the bygone. This week Maeve O ‘Sullivan presents us with a senryu, centering the topic on a meet-up of cousins. One is led to introspection about cousins, children, babies, discussions catching up on all sorts of subjects: and genealogy. There is a subtle humor or satire in the lines that follow: “getting used to being / the older generation.” The present generation is transformed, becoming one with the “older generation,” the present becoming one with the past. One can also infer that the children present will talk together of different things…their household pets, games, favorite foods… Discussions that in later years and meetings will embody their own change, in turn.

Sudha Devi Nayak:

This haiku brings back heartwarming memories of familial bonds. Cousins have perhaps grown up together in the same social milieu, meeting after an interval of years, each having gone through the rough and tumble of living. I can imagine the pleasant anticipation, memories of times together, the common spaces they occupied and common landscapes with friends and families. What can be more pleasurable than seeing someone who belonged to your sun-spangled childhood, your connections, your little joys and sorrows, your disappointments and successes. The shoulder you leaned on in times of distress, the light of understanding in her eyes, the freedom to say things like they are, the secrets you kept with one another, the ordinary joys you shared so intensely.

So much of life in the interim that has passed to catch up on, so much nostalgia. Time on its relentless march has caught up with them too as they shifted from one generation to another. Streaks of silver in their hair, the worry lines distinct on their faces, the frown lines above their eyes that have lost their yesteryear sparkle and yet and yet…They remembered Mary Hopkins “The busy years went rushing by us and we lost our starry notions / we are older my friend but no wiser for the dreams in our heart are still the same.”

Sitarama Seshu Maringanti:

When we find ourselves older than others in the family or those with whom we shared many a common thing in the office and society in general, we tend to become crestfallen. Old age is something that we knew was coming but were never prepared to confront. It reminds us that we are past the age of ebullient youth. We are no longer part of that younger set nor are we accepted by those elders who are older. Maeve O’Sullivan’s haiku brings together similarly placed cousins, fresh from the green pastures of youthful age, finding it hard to adjust to the embarrassment of being called ‘the older generation’. The old order was young but it has changed yielding place to a new order.

Amoolya Kamalnath:

This senryū is the result of a keen observation and there’s much to ponder upon. I’m just sharing my personal experience. My cousins and I are still in the middle generation. We have our children but most of us still have our parent(s). However, when my cousins’ dad passed away around 2 years back, it struck me that now it was my generation who was at the forefront, performing all the rituals. (I haven’t yet been able to make it to a happy occasion, hence the funeral reference). Our children are in the position where we were years back. I vividly remember when my grandparents passed away, we were young then, and our parents handling all the responsibilities. Then I suddenly felt a generation older seeing all of our young children around. And it definitely feels different. From being the youngest lot, we’re now neither very young nor too old, and we know what awaits us in the future. Our conversations which revolved around games, music and books then as young children, now mostly revolves around discussing our children’s interests and not only regarding our daily routines but also our parents’ concerns.

Jonathan Epstein—feeling calm and centered:

At an informal gathering of kin, the poet acknowledges (to herself) she’s still adapting to her status as “the older generation.” It’s a relatively new, not yet comfortable season in life for her —‘autumn’, it would seem. Retirement, perhaps?

“cousins’ meet-up” is the resonant phrase here. During my teen years, a group of cousins founded a family club. It included the numerous offspring of one great-grandmother from Vilnius (then Vilna), Lithuania. We met four times a year for picnics and holiday celebrations. Over the years, “the older generation,” whom we younger folk expected to live forever, gave way to a new “older generation.” For years now I have been “the older generation,” the getting-used-to stage ongoing.

Line 2, intended or not, points a way to navigating the rapids of aging: “getting used to being.” As a stand-alone, this line suggests moving toward ‘a state of being,’ which I regard here as inner quiescence, however that is achieved. There is no feeling of heaviness here in “getting used to being the older generation.” The tone is, rather, one of an acceptance of aging as a law of nature; something other species do without the drama we tend to attach to this period in our lives. A haiku that left me feeling calm and centered, one that is sure to trigger reflection among my re:Virals peers.

Author Maeve O’Sullivan:

I wrote this senryu in February 2020, in a pub in South County Dublin, where a group of cousins on my father’s side had gathered for food and drink, after a memorial Mass for my uncle Colm, a couple of months after his death. My father Maurice was fourth in a family of ten – a good Irish Catholic clan! He died fifteen years ago next week, in early November 2010. Fast forward nine years, and his younger brother Colm was the last of his siblings to die. We have around thirty cousins on the O’Sullivan side of the family. Not all of them were there, as there are quite a few living abroad, so there were approximately half present on that occasion.
I wanted Line 1 to simply describe the event, but without using the word ‘memorial’, or one related to it, so as not to spell it out too much. I wanted Line 3 deliver a little surprise for the reader, and have them do a little work in figuring it out. Although we were enjoying each other’s company on the night, I got a strange sensation while we were there in the pub, noticing and reflecting on the fact that we had no more parents / aunts / uncles in the room, or anywhere on earth anymore! It was a little chilling, a sense of moving further up the mortality queue, and the need to adjust to it, hence Lines 2 & 3: ‘getting used to being / the older generation’.
There’s another aspect to this, which we weren’t fully aware of at the time, though this other senryu that I wrote earlier the same day (during the Mass itself) foreshadows the imminent Covid crisis.
Coronavirus scare –
no hand-shaking
at the ‘sign of peace’

Three weeks later and we were all confined to our homes in the first of a series of strict lockdowns, and working from home: it would be a long time before we could gather in that way again.
Both senryu were originally published in Failed Haiku online journal (now gone, sadly), and collected in Wasp on the Prayer Flag (2021, Alba Publishing).

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Jonathan has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, or of moderate length, academic, your personal response, spontaneous, or idiosyncratic.  As long as it focuses on the verse presented, and with respect for the poet, all genuine reader reaction, criticism, and pertinent discussion is of value.   Out-takes are kept 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:

     
prom queen
the short reign
of primrose
—Anne Fox
 Wales Haiku Journal, Summer 2025

re:Virals is co-hosted by Melissa Dennison and Keith Evetts (managing editor).

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:

Maeve O’Sullivan’s poetry and haikai have been widely published, anthologized, awarded and translated. She is the author of six collections from Alba Publishing, the latest being Where All Ladders Start (2024), which received funding from the Irish Arts Council. Maeve is a founder member of the Hibernian Poetry Workshop and the Dublin Haiku Salon, and a member of the British Haiku Society and the Irish Writers’ Centre. She has led haiku workshops in various contexts. Maeve’s website is here.

In the BHS annual anthology, just arrived by post, I like Maeve’s

after the rut
fallow deer grazing
under the rainbow

(another one with which to tease the kigo purists)

—–

AI Critique

AI has come a very long way since my first debates with ChatGPT about haiku three years ago next month, when it was hung up on 5-7-5 and riddled with mistakes. Out of curiosity, I put this week’s verse to Anthropic’s Claude for commentary and critique. The results are below. Now, we’re not going to make a habit of this for many obvious reasons, and contributors are on their honour not to use AI to provide their commentaries for re:Virals.

Humans do like to take the Mickey out of AI — as if humans don’t make mistakes either! It is, of course, our understandable insecurity in the face of the growing powers of AI. I think you’ll be somewhat taken aback at the level Claude has reached. My views are still forming.

Keith:

How would you assess and write a commentary for the following senryu:

cousins’ meet-up –
getting used to being
the older generation

Claude:

This is a lovely senryu that captures something poignant about the passage of time and shifting social positions. Let me offer some thoughts on what makes it work:

What the senryu does well:
The poem hinges on a quiet realization rather than a dramatic revelation. The dash after the opening line creates a pause that mirrors the speaker’s own moment of recognition—there’s a gathering happening, but the real event is internal. The speaker isn’t just attending a cousins’ meet-up; they’re becoming aware of their own changing place within the family structure.
The specificity of “cousins’ meet-up” grounds the poem in a relatable, ordinary moment. Senryu thrive on everyday life, and a casual family gathering is perfect territory. There’s an implied informality and comfort in “meet-up” that contrasts nicely with the weightier realization that follows.

The emotional arc:
The turn happens in the final two lines. “Getting used to” suggests an ongoing process—this isn’t a shock but rather an acceptance unfolding. The speaker is adjusting to a new identity: they’re now part of the older generation. This lands with subtle but real impact because it speaks to a universal experience of aging that often sneaks up on us in social moments like this. You don’t realize you’re older until you’re suddenly the one who remembers things differently, or until younger cousins treat you that way, or until you simply notice the shift yourself.

This is senryu at its best: a small, true moment that opens up to something universal.

A critical reading might raise a few points:

The abstraction problem: “Getting used to being / the older generation” is somewhat removed from sensory experience. Senryu traditionally thrive on concrete, observed details—what the speaker actually sees or feels at this gathering. The poem tells us about an internal realization but doesn’t show us what triggered it. Were there gray hairs? Did someone call them “ma’am” or “sir”? Did they catch themselves offering unsolicited advice? The abstraction makes it feel more like a thought about aging than an encounter with it.

The passivity: “Getting used to” is passive acceptance rather than active engagement with the moment. There’s no friction, no humor, no particular emotion—just adjustment. Senryu often captures irony, awkwardness, or a wry observation. This one is perhaps too resigned, too accepting of the premise without questioning or resisting it.

The predictability: Once you read “cousins’ meet-up,” the destination feels somewhat inevitable. The older generation among cousins will be aware they’re aging—it’s not surprising. A sharper senryu might undercut that expectation or catch something more unexpected about the gathering itself.

The vagueness of “cousins”: Which cousins? How many generations are present? The specificity could deepen the observation rather than remaining at this fairly generic family gathering.
In short: it’s competent and touching, but it might benefit from more concrete grounding and a sharper edge.

re:Virals is co-hosted by Shawn Blair, Melissa Dennison, Susan Yavaniski, and Keith Evetts (managing editor).

Comments: further discussion is invited below. Comments will close after a week when this post is archived.

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