re:Virals 550

“More difficult than making your own verses interesting is understanding those of others…” ―Shinkei (1406 –1475). Citing this, Onitsura (1661 – 1738) wrote: “…this should be a way in which a person is completely given over to training.”

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 Melissa Dennison. This week’s poem, chosen by Radhamani Sarma was:

now that I'm old and sick
everyone saying
   how good I look
-John Brehm
 Frogpond 48.3, 2025

Introducing this poem, Radhamani Sarma writes:

Appearance and independence matter a lot for mankind:

This senryu by John Brehm concentrates on the topic of illness, and the age factor, which leads to apprehension and introspection; as long as man is strong and sturdy to mind his own self, everything is perfectly smooth sailing.

The first person take “now that I’m old and sick” clearly indicates that he is living in a world of hopelessness, concern and anxiety; he is dependent on somebody all of the time, with an inability to move freely, and a sort of fear writ large on his face. With advancing age, come wrinkles and a lack of youthful appearance and buoyancy. Up until this point he has been enjoying a world of independence and exuberance. Now the persona is walking with walk stick, or bedridden.

Another viable interpretation is that he is talking to his own self, giving vent to his thoughts.  A sort of mockery of self, on society, and criticism of relatives and friends as shown in the second and third line “everyone saying how good I look”
distinctly conveys his outlook on the people around him.

Youthful jollity, beauty and care – all now giving way to disability and remarks by “everyone” to appease the elderly and devastated. From patient to philosopher – a new outlook embedded in this style of satire, or irony or mockery to satisfy his own self. A kind of giving vent to his thoughts, an emotional outlet for his afflictions, pent up feelings. Another inference is that he must have encountered jealousy in the people’s attitude. Now he is in a different ward. He is in the grip of autumnal mood, expecting the fall of foliage.  The only remedy is he should be surrounded by people all the time, constantly praising him to avoid boredom.

Lastly, money alone matters (mockery of the world scenario). The observant eyes of the author record, that the whole world evolves ‘round not genuine affection but only currency . The persona is blessed by affluence, rich and copious wealth. What he lacks is only personal attention. Why everyone praises his looks, now that he is old and sick,( his satirical tone reflected, out of introspection,) after his demise, they can claim his wealth. We are living in a world NOT of Dharma and good Karma, but plunder and grab.

To sum up, John Brehm is sagacious, a  poet of worldly wisdom and profound knowledge of self and serenity.

Host comment (Melissa):

What strikes me when reading this senryu is the humour, it made me laugh. There is a strong sense of irony, as I assume that before the poet was ill there weren’t exactly hordes of people knocking on his door to shower him with compliments and tell him how great he looked. It has taken illness for this to happen. Isn’t that crazy? However, humans are irrational creatures and our behaviour is amusing, it can and does make us laugh. I imagine that in this particular scenario people are concerned about the poet and are doing their best to reassure him that he is looking well, that he looks as if he is on the mend: things are looking up. Life has its funny moments, we should revel in them whenever and however they happen.

Also, humour has a place in haiku, and I and hopefully many others enjoy a poem that has the ability to make us laugh. We need more of it. Humour is potent and has power. In dark times this becomes more and more important. So thank you John for this insightful and comic ku.

Thinking about the topic of illness and mortality, one of my favourite haiku is by Jack Kerouac:

in my medicine cabinet,
the winter fly
has died of old age

Again, irony. And finally, to end with a smile, here is a link that you might enjoy!

My Word! You Do Look Queer

Uma Padmanabhan:

This haiku is brief but carries a quiet sting of irony and emotional depth. At the surface, the poem presents a speaker who is “old and sick,”  yet is being told by others how “glad”( perhaps meaning healthy) they appear. This creates an immediate contrast between inner reality and outer perception, which becomes the central tension of the poem.

The first line establishes a tone of resignation. The phrasing “now that” suggests an inevitable stage of life rather than a sudden misfortune — it feels reflective, almost weary of the residuality of life. No embellishment just a plain admission of decline “everyone saying/ how good I look “ Here the poem becomes subtly critical of social behaviour. People offer polite reassurances — perhaps out of habit, discomfort or denial — but these comments bear an unmistakable ring of inanity. The word “everyone” amplifies this effect, suggesting a collective unwillingness to confront the speaker’s true condition.

What makes the haiku effective is its emotional understatement. It doesn’t explicitly complain or accuse instead it lets the contradiction speak for itself. This aligns well with the traditional haiku aesthetics, where meaning emerges through juxtaposition rather than explanation.  There’s a possible ambiguity in the word “good.” It may hint at:

A mistaken or superficial judgement or even a deeper misreading of emotional state (you seem happy) Either way, it underscores a disconnect between appearance and truth.

A line that resonates strongly with the quiet irony and loneliness in this haiku comes from T.S. Eliot’s poem “ The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock:” “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons .“  This line echoes a similar sense of ageing, quiet decline and the small almost trivial ways life is observed by others. Like the haiku it reflects an inner awareness of time and frailty that contrasts with the surface level world — where deeper truths often go unnoticed or unspoken.

Overall the poem offers a quiet but powerful commentary on ageing, illness and the sometimes empty consolations offered by others. It leaves the reader with a sense of isolation — not dramatic but deeply human.

Orense Nicod:

I don’t usually distinguish between haiku and senryu in English language haiku. I just take haiku as the umbrella term since there are so many fringe cases in the absence of formal markers like kireji. But this poem is clearly of the senryu variety and beautifully, devastatingly so.

Brehm captures something piercing here, the way compliments can become a kind of loneliness. The poem’s situation is simple and poignant. The speaker is old and sick. Everyone says how good they look. That is all. And yet in that gap between what the body is doing and what the world chooses to see, the reader finds an entire drama of human connection and disconnection.

There is also a tongue-in-cheek quality to it. The speaker notices that these compliments arrive only now, when they are old and sick and can no longer really do anything with them. There is irony in finally hearing “how good I look” at precisely the moment when appearance matters least, when the body has become something fragile and failing rather than something full of possibility.

The compliment means well. That is what makes it ache rather than bitter. These are not indifferent people; they are people who care enough to look, to show up, to offer something. But what they offer is a comfortable fiction rather than a shared truth, and so their caring stops just short of contact. Two people stand in the same room and only one of them is fully present in it.

Maybe that’s the deepest loneliness in illness: not that people don’t care, but that caring doesn’t always know what to do with itself. So it says you look good. And it means: I’m here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what else to say.

Yet because they are not meeting the speaker somewhere real, they aren’t actually sharing anything. If they said you look tired or you seem frightened or even just this is hard, that would be meeting the person where they actually are. That would be two people in the same room together. But you look good keeps everything on the surface, where it’s safe, where the illness doesn’t have to be fully real yet. And so the speaker has to be alone with the truth while everyone around them tends to a more comfortable fiction. They have to smile and receive the compliment and not say: but I’m not. I’m really not.

The indented line and the white space it creates do a lot of work. The gap mimics the distance the speaker feels from all that well-meaning noise. There is also something about the collective “everyone.” Not one person but a chorus of it, relentless and cheerful. The more people say it, the more isolated the speaker becomes.

There is also a second reading. If “everyone” does not know the speaker is ill and is complimenting them on their weight loss, the compliments become even more unwittingly cruel. The person has lost weight because they are sick and the world responds with you look amazing. Society’s reflexive praise for thinness kicks in, oblivious to what caused it. The very thing being celebrated is the symptom. The body is failing, and the world responds with aesthetics.

The poem stings precisely because there’s no villain. Just the very human tendency to offer what we can bear to give rather than what the other person actually needs. There’s almost a tenderness in the irony. The speaker notices the gap between what is said and what is true but doesn’t condemn anyone for it. Just observes it.

Sudha Devi Nayak:

The haiku comes loaded with a mixture of emotions and works at several levels. On first reading we are aware of a veiled resentment, a sense of sarcasm at statements that sound hollow and dismissive of the poet’s internal struggle with age and illness.

The poet is using sarcasm to counter falsehoods and hypocrisy couched in social niceties. The lines also imply people’s discomfort with ageing, illness and death as they employ sentimental cliches to avoid acknowledging the reality of the suffering of the old and sick. The compliment that could have made him happy when he was younger, healthier and more deserving now seem hurtful. People baulk at offering compliments or genuine appreciation when they really matter and can boost an ego or light up a face. It is precisely at those moments that everyone is wary of giving compliments, parsimonious in their praise as they perhaps see a threat or competition.

Perhaps I am being hasty and judgemental. Not all of us are cast in the same mould and there could be those who are well meaning with a genuine desire for the person to regain his health and be his beautiful self. It is often said we are but human and we feel as good and beautiful as others make us feel. Besides in spite of age and sickness taking a toll of looks there can also be a grace and dignity and a peace that comes with the onset of years.

The Japanese philosophy of Wabi Sabi tells us that things are not flawed, things change and nothing is fully finished. Respond kindly to imperfection with self compassion instead of harsh criticism. Wabi Sabi questions the belief that you must be flawless to be acceptable. The haikuist must accept himself with tenderness and the compliments would ring true.

Urszula Marciniak—Over the hill?:

:Old age affects us at various stages of life. In our teens, when we learn of the death of our 40-year-old uncle, we think to ourselves, “He was old, so he died. It’s normal.”

Soon we turn 40 ourselves. Neighbours’ children address us as “sir/ma’am” and give us their seats on public transport. It’s polite, but we start to get nervous.

A few years later, we try to buy tickets for a party. They tell us they’re sold out. A moment later, we realise they’re still there. Only we don’t fit in, because it’s a party for young people. It’s unpleasant because we still look good and feel young.

After a dozen or so years, we no longer worry so much about our age. We recognise our limitations, such as health, but we also appreciate our strengths. We no longer worry so much about things that deeply saddened us in our youth. The roller coaster of emotions gently sways. We sign up for the University of the Third Age or dance classes. We smile. Sometimes someone our own age tells us we look good. They’ve never said it before. If we think well of ourselves, we accept the compliment and return it. If we struggle with self-acceptance, we suspect malice or insincerity.

I’m reminded of the saying that if someone is a lady, they don’t have to say it. It’s probably the same with appearance. If we look good, it doesn’t require comment. Just a glance from another person and everything becomes clear.

Let’s appreciate youth and old age. Both have their advantages and disadvantages.

And deep down, we’re still 21 and don’t understand why the people around us don’t see it, except maybe that one person who doesn’t notice our ageing.

Thanks to all who sent commentaries. As the contributor of the commentary reckoned best this week, Urszula has chosen next week’s poem, which you’ll find below. We invite you to write a commentary to it. It may be short, to a maximum of 500 words (succinctness will be valued); 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:

last Valentines Day--
all the socks in my drawer
mismatched
— Mariola Grabowska, Poland
ASAHI HAIKUIST NETWORK - David McMurray
March 20, 2026 

Footnote:

John Brehm, born and raised in Lincoln, Nebraska and educated at The University of Nebraska and Cornell University, is the author of four books of poems: Sea of Faith, Help Is on the Way, No Day at the Beach and Dharma Talk. John has also published a collection of essays – The Dharma of Poetry, which is a companion to his anthology The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfulness & Joy. His poems have appeared in a wide variety of publications including Poetry, Ploughshares, The Gettysburg Review, The Sun, The Southern Review, Plume, Gulf Coast, The Missouri Review, New Ohio Review, The Writer’s Almanac, Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, The Best American Poetry, The Norton Introduction to Literature and many other journals and anthologies.

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.

THF strives to maintain a safe and friendly environment for our readers and site participants. Participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior of all parties. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, for any reason, at any time.

If you see something you feel may violate our Code of Conduct, please report it to the appropriate moderator (the host of this post) or the President here.