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Haiku

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Web site: http://www.toyomasu.

com/haiku/

What is Haiku?
Haiku is one of the most important form of traditional Japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. Since early days, there has been confusion between the three related terms Haiku, Hokku and Haikai. The term hokku literally means "starting verse", and was the first starting link of a much longer chain of verses known as haika. Because the hokku set the tone for the rest of the poetic chain, it enjoyed a privileged position in haikai poetry, and it was not uncommon for a poet to compose a hokku by itself without following up with the rest of the chain. Largely through the efforts of Masaoka Shiki, this independence was formally established in the 1890s through the creation of the term haiku. This new form of poetry was to be written, read and understood as an independent poem, complete in itself, rather than part of a longer chain. Strictly speaking, then, the history of haiku begins only in the last years of the 19th century. The famous verses of such Edo-period (1600-1868) masters as Basho, Yosa Buson, and Kobayashi Issa are properly referred to as hokku and must be placed in the perspective of the history of haikai even though they are now generally read as independent haiku. In HAIKU for PEOPLE, both terms will be treated equally! The distinction between hokku and haiku can be handled by using the terms Classical Haiku and Modern Haiku. Modern Haiku. The history of the modern haiku dates from Masaoka Shiki's reform, begun in 1892, which established haiku as a new independent poetic form. Shiki's reform did not change two traditional elements of haiku: the division of 17 syllables into three groups of 5, 7, and 5 syllables and the inclusion of a seasonal theme. Kawahigashi Hekigoto carried Shiki's reform further with two proposals: 1. Haiku would be truer to reality if there were no center of interest in it.

2. The importance of the poet's first impression, just as it was, of subjects taken from daily life, and of local colour to create freshness.

How to write Haiku


In japanese, the rules for how to write Haiku are clear, and will not be discussed here. In foreign languages, there exists NO consensus in how to write Haiku-poems. Anyway, let's take a look at the basic knowledge: What to write about? Haiku-poems can describe almost anything, but you seldom find themes which are too complicated for normal PEOPLE's recognition and understanding. Some of the most thrilling Haiku-poems describe daily situations in a way that gives the reader a brand new experience of a well-known situation. The metrical pattern of Haiku Haiku-poems consist of respectively 5, 7 and 5 syllables in three units. In japanese, this convention is a must, but in english, which has variation in the length of syllables, this can sometimes be difficult. The technique of cutting. The cutting divides the Haiku into two parts, with a certain imaginative distance between the two sections, but the two sections must remain, to a degree, independent of each other. Both sections must enrich the understanding of the other. To make this cutting in english, either the first or the second line ends normally with a colon, long dash or ellipsis. The seasonal theme. Each Haiku must contain a kigo, a season word, which indicate in which season the Haiku is set. For example, cherry blossoms indicate spring, snow indicate winter, and mosquitoes indicate summer, but the season word isn't always that obvious. Please notice that Haiku-poems are written under different rules and in many languages. For translated Haiku-poems, the translator must

decide whether he should obey the rules strictly, or if he should present the exact essence of the Haiku. For Haiku-poems originally written in english, the poet should be more careful. These are the difficulties, and the pleasure of Haiku.

HAIKU POEMS
Akutagawa, Ryunosuke. (1892-1927). Akutagawa wrote "Rashomon", "The Nose", "The Handkerchief", "Hell Screen ", "Flatcar" and "Kappa". He didn't start writing Haiku before 1919, under the pseudonym Gaki. Akutagawa biography Akutagawa books at amazon

Green frog, Is your body also freshly painted? Sick and feverish Glimpse of cherry blossoms Still shivering. Anonymous.

Without flowing wine How to enjoy lovely Cherry blossoms?

Basho, Matsuo. (1644-1694). The name Basho (banana tree) is a sobriquet he adopted around 1681 after moving into a hut with a banana tree alongside. He was called Kinsaku in childhood and Matsuo Munefusa in his later days. Basho's father was a low-ranking samurai from the Iga Province. To be a samurai, Basho serviced for the local lord Todo Yoshitada (Sengin). Since Yoshitada was fond of writing haikai, Basho began writing poetry under the name Sobo.

During the years, Basho made many travels through Japan, and one of the most famous went to the north, where he wrote Oku No Hosomichi (1694). On his last trip, he died in Osaka, and his last haiku indicates that he was still thinking of traveling and writing poetry as he lay dying:

Fallen sick on a journey, In dreams I run wildly Over a withered moor. At the time of his death, Basho had more than 2000 students.

An old pond! A frog jumps inThe sound of water. The first soft snow! Enough to bend the leaves Of the jonquil low. In the cicada's cry No sign can foretell How soon it must die. No one travels Along this way but I, This autumn evening. In all the rains of May there is one thing not hidden the bridge at Seta Bay. The years first day thoughts and loneliness; the autumn dusk is here. Clouds appear and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone. Poverty's child he starts to grind the rice, and gazes at the moon. No blossoms and no moon, and he is drinking sake all alone!

Won't you come and see loneliness? Just one leaf from the kiri tree. Temple bells die out. The fragrant blossoms remain. A perfect evening!

Buson, Yosa. (1716-84).

At the over-matured sushi, The Master Is full of regret. Pressing Sushi; After a while, A lonely feeling A whale! Down it goes, and more and more up goes its tail!

Etsujin.

Covered with the flowers, Instantly I'd like to die In this dream of ours!

Hashin

No sky no earth - but still snowflakes fall

Issa. (1762-1826). Yoshi Mikami's Issa's Haiku Home Page Issa books at Amazon

In my old home which I forsook, the cherries are in bloom. A giant firefly: that way, this way, that way, this and it passes by. Right at my feet and when did you get here, snail? My grumbling wife if only she were here! This moon tonight... A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy. A man, just one also a fly, just one in the huge drawing room. A sudden shower falls and naked I am riding on a naked horse!

Kato, Shuson

I kill an ant and realize my three children have been watching.

Kawahigashi, Hekigodo. (1873-1937).

From a bathing tub I throw water into the lake slight muddiness appears.

Kojo

Night, and the moon! My neighbor, playing on his flute out of tune!

Murakami, Kijo. (1865-1938).

First autumn morning: the mirror I stare into shows my father's face. The moment two bubbles are united, they both vanish. A lotus blooms.

Natsume, Soseki. (1867-1916) Soseki's debut came in 1905 with "I Am a Cat ". In 1907 he resigned his post at Tokyo University as Professor in English, to devote his entire time to the writing of novels. His writings include "The Three-Cornered World" (1906), "The Wayfarer" (1912-13) "Kokoro " (1914), and "The Grass on the Wayside" (1915).

On New Year's Day I long to meet my parents as they were before my birth. The crow has flown away: swaying in the evening sun, a leafless tree.

Raizan.

You rice-field maidens! The only things not muddy Are the songs you sing.

Ryusui. (1691-1758).

In all this cool is the moon also sleeping? There, in the pool?

Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902).

I want to sleep Swat the flies Softly, please. After killing a spider, how lonely I feel in the cold of night! For love and for hate I swat a fly and offer it to an ant. A mountain village under the pilled-up snow the sound of water. Night; and once again, the while I wait for you, cold wind turns into rain. The summer river: although there is a bridge, my horse goes through the water. A lightning flash: between the forest trees I have seen water.

Takahama, Kyoshi

A dead chrysanthemum and yet - isn't there still something remaining in it? He says a word, and I say a word - autumn is deepening. The winds that blows ask them, which leaf on the tree will be next to go. A gold bug I hurl into the darkness and feel the depth of night.

Autumn
Morten Paulsen

An island song Like a floating river Rain Rain Fall Fall

Christmas
Ron Loeffler

Glass balls and glowing lights. Dead tree in living room. Killed to honor birth.

Computers
Andeyev, Alexey V.

Spring backup in CS lab: time to fall in love with certain humanware. Ed \"Darts Vapor\" Button

alone, on the web, drops of sensitivity embrace an eyelash Chris Spruck

Faceless, just numbered. Lone pixel in the bitmapI, anonymous.

Flowers
Dave McCroskey.

on the Chinese vase flowers retain brightness - - pouring out water.

Food
Paulsen, Morten:

Sushi and Soya The Spring comes When the day is over

Free
Thomas Grieg

Pond with ice tadpoles summer Looking at the clouds blue in the ice-wind space flows

Quiet around the point: ducks; up down birches helicopter Vince

Darkended dreams become modern grapes of wrath reaping a bitter wine.

Summer
Dhugal Lindsay:

they've gone... where the beach umbrella was the sand not quite so hot Paul Mena:

through the fingerprints on my windowcloudless blue sky. John. Deserted steel-mill. Along the Ohio River, Chromatic butterfly. James Dolan Dallas summer song: cicadas whir, the sirens call

Time
Phil Wahl

The flap of a bat, drip drip of monsoon waters. Ancient image stares.

Noel Kaufmann

Behold the ego Set in glowing emptiness On the edge of time

Urban Haiku
Michael R. Collings

Silence--a strangled Telephone has forgotten That it should ring Freeway overpass-Blossoms in grafitti on fog-wrapped June mornings

World
Dave McCroskey

the morning paper harbinger of good and ill - - I step over it

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