IN203 Honors Seminar: Global Haiku Tradition
Dr. Randy Brooks • Spring 2006

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StephanieDietrich
Stephanie Dietrich

kasen-no-renga
Smoke Screen

Dancing to Myself
Haibun

Essay on Marlene Mountain

Little Scribbles
A collection of Haiku

by
Stephanie Dietrich

First of all, let’s set one thing straight. I really don’t give a hoot if no one else gets any of my haiku, let alone likes it. These haiku are purely selfish; they’re my little scribbles, and no one else’s. You see, I’m always looking for new ways to express the complex emotions and thoughts in my head. I’ve dabbled in art forms of every denomination, from art to dance to journaling. So finding a new way to channel me out of my head is like inventing a new flavor of Ben & Jerry’s; it gets no happier.

So what you’ll be looking at shortly is the randomness that is my mind. Don’t be fooled; it has nothing to do with Zen, or ‘nothing specialness,’ or cherry blossoms floating in the moon. I think that if something isn’t special, then it isn’t worth writing about. Every one of these haiku is linked to a special moment, person, thought, or whim in my life. I write about what’s important to me. Again, you see why I’m so selfish about my haiku.

Well, enough of me babbling. Get on to the part I actually worked hard on. I hope one of them (more would be nice, but one’s good enough) moves you to feel something…anything. But if not, hey, I’m cool with that. More for me.


Stephanie Dietrich is a sophomore theatre major, and is making her debut in the haiku community. Excited by the idea of a new form of expression, she has made it her life's journey to ignore as many haiku traditions as possible.

Reader's Intro

When I read Stephanie’s haiku, I think not about the images that she provokes, but the uniqueness of her approach to haiku. In the most general terms a haiku is the juxtaposition between two images. Many authors do this by simply presenting the two images, others resort to metaphor or simile, however this is a most abhorrent path to take in haiku. What Stephanie does in her work is present the image and then expand on the circumstances surrounding the subject. For instance;

two left feet
I salsa anyway
just to see her smile

Simply reading the haiku there is no apparent juxtaposition. The man represented in the poem is simply unable to dance well. However, he chooses to dance in spite of himself in order for her happiness. The traditional haiku poet might have presented the two left feet, and then crushed toes or possibly the image of wallflowers. Because of Stephanie’s approach of using a single image and expanding upon it, the juxtaposition comes not from the comparison or words, but comes from the juxtaposition of the haiku’s image with that of the reader’s preconceptions, values, etc. In this matter, since it is not a three-linked relationship (two images in the haiku, and the image created by the reader,) we have a two-linked relationship (the haiku image and the one image created by the reader) the haiku is then so much more unique than it would have been had she takes the conventional approach to haiku. In the usual sense of haiku the reader much connect two images and then spin them into something they can relate to, here Stephanie has allowed her reader to take a single subject and put their own spin on it, making for a much more personal experience. I think any first time reader will find Stephanie’s dexterous variety of images easy to connect with. I wish all who read her works happy hunting in their search for a favorite. —Adam Stefo, St. Louis, MO


last year’s pants
exposing chubby ankles—
new grass tickles


single dried rose
tilted
in the vase


shoulders hunched
beaten down by the chill fall rain
overdue books


re-reading
a childhood favorite
pressed dandelions
slip to my lap


resenting her tears
she drowns me in her sorrows
as I stroke her hair


avoiding Mom’s glare
as Dad pours us
our first glasses of wine


sheets flung into the dark
words he doesn’t mean—
he thinks I’m his


a child’s painting—
the refrigerator magnet
stuck in the middle


two left feet
I salsa anyway
just to see her smile


empty eyes—
the drugs that dull his pain
dull him


warm arms
I once ran to--
folded


helping the nurse
flip him over—
bare butt


his sweet words
washed away by alcohol—
but I remember


nervous smile
new in-laws wait—
North Shore Inquisition


calling him to tell him
I forgot my hairbrush
and my heart


water lapping--
in his eyes
my smile


gripping his biceps
in the dark
we transform into one


peeling my skin
off of his—
even the moon sweats


Sunday morning
your tickling kisses
wake me


© 2006 Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur, Illinois
all rights reserved for original authors