The haiku discussed in this essay captures the part of life of the place in which I live in. What I enjoy about them is that they are simple yet thought provoking, straight forward yet imaginary. The haiku I have picked out can be compared to imaginative snapshots of my experiences growing up in Chicago. They do an exquisite job at capturing the simplicity and fast-paced atmosphere of a city. If a haiku can trigger a personal memory of mine and take me back to that exact moment, I believe the writer is doing something right.
When I come across a “city” haiku, sometimes, I get slightly homesick. This haiku by Barry George seems as if it was written specifically for me. I started taking the Amtrak when I came to Millikin University in Decatur, Illinois. I live in Chicago which is 3 hours away and I do not have a car. George’s haiku reminds me of my adventures on the train by myself and how I could not wait to see my sister when I walk out of Union Station.
hearing the train whistle
bound for the city . . .
here in the city
George, Wrecking Ball and Other Urban Haiku, 22
I really appreciate how this haiku is structured and presented. While reading, I can hear, I can see, and I can feel. I can hear the train as it sounds it horn every so often. I can see the corn fields and woods spiral into familiar highways and neighborhoods. I can feel the coldness of the train window and lack of foot room in front of my seat. In addition, I also think the periods after the line “bound for the city” is used effectively. As I am reading George’s haiku, I take a longer pause after that certain line. The technique stops the reader for a moment so he or she can envision the journey on the train. When the haiku is finished, so is my train ride and I have arrived in the city.
What I liked the most about this haiku is the repeated use of the word “city.” Many writers and readers may think that it is not necessary to say it again, but the repetition struck me personally. When I go home, I am constantly taking Snapchats of the city and sharing with my friends the cool places I get to go that they may not have gone to before. It may be annoying to some, but an important part of who I am is where I grew up. I do not talk about being from the city as if I am more superior than my friends from small towns, however, I like sharing stories about my past experiences and I like educating people that the city is not as bad as it is perceived sometimes! Barry’s haiku projects a sense of familiarity in me and a homecoming kind of vibe.
When I come home from college, one of the things I’m most excited about is reuniting with the skyline. In Decatur, I catch glimpses of stars in the sky, but in Chicago, I have a beautiful view of the skyline. The skyscrapers are essentially the stars that light my life.
city night
a light left on
the 43rd floor
Clausen, bottle rockets #28, 13
Whenever I drive on Lake Shore Drive in Chicago, I count on seeing cool images on the tall skyscrapers. These images are created by the lights of the building. It is such a neat sight because every time I wonder how anyone is capable of doing that. The skyscrapers usually have images for holidays such as Thanksgiving, Veteran’s Day, Memorial Day, and July 4th and also show support for our sports teams. The images on the skyscrapers help the city come alive illuminate the sky at night. To me, the Chicago Skyline is easily one of the most beautiful ones in the world. I have seen it for nineteen years, and it still takes my breath away when I get to the see the full landscape of the city. I do not know what about it makes me so giggly and excited, but the skyline makes me happy. It may sound silly to some people, but skyscrapers represent a beacon of hope for myself. I hope one day to soar as high and stand as tall.
I really enjoy the construction and simplicity of Clausen’s haiku. At first, I didn’t know if I agreed with the usage of the word “city” because using it is very straight forward and leaves no room for imagination. However, when I think about it, I think it is crucial to the haiku. It does not necessarily just indicate that it means a night in the city, but also the kind of night. From my experience, I know there are many differences between a “city night” and a “small town/country night.”
The third line of the haiku “the 43rd floor”, although straight to the point, helps a lot with sensory images. If the word “city” was not included in the first line, I could have easily guessed that this is about a city because most cities have tall buildings and are known for that.
Reading this, I imagine a tourist in Chicago for the first time and when he sees part of the light image on the skyscraper, he is going to wonder why some room lights were left on. Then, he may see the full light image and become awestruck. I know I still do on my adventures in Chicago.
Another haiku that paints the lights in a big city as stars is one written by Donald McLeod.
McLeod’s haiku may hit home for those who have moved to Los Angeles and those who have lived there their entire lives. This haiku embodies serenity, but the words also make it very colorful:
L.A. stargazing—
half of them come down
and land
McLeod, Small Town Big City, 19
When I was a younger kid, I dreamt of living in Los Angeles. I was so brainwashed by the glory, fame, and fortune depicted on the television and the internet. Today, when I scroll through my Instagram feed, I notice a lot of photos that captures the magic and beauty of the city.
Haiku about cities usually produce a vivid and almost candid image in my mind. I feel as if I can be absolutely engulfed in a haiku if it automatically brings me back to a particularly moment of my life or even helps me dream of a future moment. When I visited Los Angeles in 2011 with my sister, we did not get the chance to stop by the Hollywood sign. The next time I visit the City of Angels, I plan to make a trip to the Hollywood sign because from the pictures I have seen on Instagram and online, it is a beautiful sight.
I like McLeod’s haiku in particular because it is mysterious to those who do not know that it was possible to see stars in a city like Los Angeles. The stars may not shine as bright as the ones in the countryside, but every once in a while, on a clear day, they peek out. I interpreted the lines “half of them come down and land” as buildings and homes playing the part of the stars. They are so close to them, yet so far off into the distance, but it is as if in that instance, people are one with the world.
The haiku reminds me of the struggles living in a big city can bring, especially one who feels as if they are drowning in a sea of people. Sometimes, being a “nobody” in a place you call home can be challenging and lonely. However, this haiku resembles a breath of fresh air to me. The person stargazing may be alone, but for a handful of moments, she is one with her surroundings and she is something.
Speaking of being a “nobody,” anyone who is someone is because they celebrate themselves and are not afraid to be themselves. I feel as if it is easier to celebrate diversity in a bigger city versus a small town because it is a larger environment and won’t be seen as something that deviates from the norm.
This particular haiku, also by Donald McLeod, reminds me of a neighborhood called Wicker Park.
“Next stop is Damen. Doors open on the right at Damen.”
metaphysical bookstore—
man in a toga
wearing bowling shoes
McLeod, Small Town Big City, 26
Reading this haiku for the first time, I would not have guessed that it had any big city element to it. When I came back and read it over and over again, I imagined the neighborhood of Wicker Park in Chicago, IL. If I had to describe Wicker Park, I think I would say that it is somewhere along trendy and also hipster. It is a very diverse part of town that is full of diversity whether it is in the people, the street art, or the different types of stores.
I can picture absolutely everything from this haiku as if it happened to me before. I have not come across a man in a toga wearing bowling shoes, however, if it were to happen, I would expect it to happen in Wicker Park. A few months ago when my sister, my brother-in-law, and I were driving in the neighborhood, we saw a man riding a bike. It was not an ordinary bike- there was a hula hoop wrapped around it! He was doing front flips on his bike and rolling around one of the busiest intersections with no worries! The man was also in some crazy get up, but it was probably one of the neatest thing I have come across. To people who lives in a big city, this is nothing new.
A scene like this or the one illustrated in the haiku would probably not happen in a small town, but in the city, it is almost the norm. I feel that McLeod is challenging readers to think outside the box and dig deeper to connect this to the city. Cities celebrate the different stories and diverse cultures of one another, which led me to connect this particular haiku back to the unpredictable neighborhood of Wicker Park. It only makes sense that this moment is something that happens in a big city, rather than a small town.
These epiphanies prompt me to appreciate the culture a city has. Chicago is only one of many cities that is full of diversity and culture. I like that I am able to go to Chinatown, Little Italy, Pilsen, and also Ukrainian Village all in the same weekend. The haiku, again, by McLeod, does a wonderful job demonstrating how cities encourage and allow more opportunities for the interaction and mixing of different cultures.
chinatown shop—
the mexican man
tries on a kimono
McLeod, Small Town Big City, 21
Growing up just outside of Chinatown in Chicago, I was there a lot. I had to walk through Chinatown some days to go home from the train station and other days I would go out to eat at the different restaurants the neighborhood had to offer.
This haiku is descriptive and straight-forward. As I read, I can picture the culture immersed in the moment. There’s the culture of the Chinese in the shop, the ethnicity of the Mexican man, and then the traditional clothing of the Japanese. Even though I am not always fond of haikus that tell us what is happening versus showing us, I think this haiku does a good job of both. It helps with my imagination because I can think of what is exactly happening but also imagine how the shop looks, how the man feels, and the colors of the kimono.
When people visit Chicago, they always ask what places they should see and what things they can do. I’m not a big fan of Navy Pier, but that is a staple Chicago attraction that everybody should experience at least once in their life. One of the most obvious attractions at Navy Pier is the 150-feet tall Ferris Wheel that is modeled after the world’s first ever ferris wheel that debuted at Chicago’s 1893 World Columbian Expedition.
new buds
the ferris wheel
takes another turn
Swist, The Silence Between Us, 56
My friends from smaller towns may read this haiku and think of their carnivals back home. Being a Chicagoan, a ferris wheel automatically means the one in Navy Pier. It takes me back to my childhood days at Navy Pier where I would point up to the sky and the top of the ferris wheel and just stare in awe. Although slightly overrated and boring after a while, this haiku makes me miss home and the attractions Chicago has to offer.
It is neat that the haiku can be interpreted in different ways, which essentially makes it a good haiku. When I read this haiku, I thought of the line “new buds” as new friends. I knew it probably meant something relating to a ferris wheel, and it was! It is an equipment piece that helps a ferris wheel turn and run.
How I took it allowed me to think of the typical lifestyle of younger teenagers in Chicago and my own childhood with my old friends. There wasn’t much one can do in the city if they didn’t have the car, so teenagers always went downtown. My friends and I would go to State Street, Water Tower Place, AMC River East, and Navy Pier if we decided to hang out one day. It is strange to think that I used to get so excited about going to an overpriced movie theater with my friends, but I guess it was because I got to hang out with my good friends outside of school.
When I was a kid, I strongly believed that I was going to live in Chicago for the rest of my life. I was blindly in love with my city when I was younger. As I grew older, I was unsure if I wanted to continue living in the city or settle down in the suburbs in the future. When my sister and I went to New York City in May of 2013 for my high school graduation present, I became sure—I realized that I wanted to live in New York for the rest of my life.
The first day we were there, it was raining nonstop, but we were not going to let the weather damper our excitement and plans for the day. As we were walking in Soho, I noticed that people in New York just do not care. Their attitude radiates in their facial expressions, movements, clothes, and everything in between. Pedestrians were bumping into my sister and me and there was not a single “excuse me” said. For some odd reason, this is what began my attraction to the city. My experience that day reminded me of this specific haiku:
Afternoon shower
Walking and talking in the street
Umbrella and raincoat
Roche The City . . . In Haiku, 6
After reading the haiku, I immediately relived walking down the narrow streets of Spring Street in Soho, where umbrellas were bumping into each other. Although not exactly the same as my experience (I didn’t have a raincoat), this haiku still evokes many images in my head and trigger the emotions I felt when I was in Soho. It is a great representation of how life does not stop and we should not let a little rain hurt us! One can tell this is about the city lifestyle, because I feel that when it is raining in the country, people go mudding. When it rains in the city, we go explore and shop.
I hope that my favorite “city” haiku allowed readers to imagine the unpredictable lifestyles of the city. While reading my essay, I hope I accomplished taking you through the different neighborhoods and facets of my home, Chicago. I believe that in this situation that when words fail, haiku speaks.
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Works Cited
Clausen, Tom. bottle rockets #28 (Page 13). Windsor: Bottle Rockets Press, 2013. Print.
George, Barry. Wrecking Ball and Other Urban Haiku. Lexington: Accents Publishing, 2010. Print.
McLeod, Donald. Small Town Big City. Sherman Oaks: All Night Press, 1987. Print.
Roche, A.K. The City . . . In Haiku. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1970. Print.
Swist, Wally. The Silence Between Us. Decatur: Brooks Books, 2005. Print.
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