Haiku Kukai 1
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2018
caramel colors swirl |
the cool crisp air |
a beautiful garden Rachel Pevehouse (9) I like how that middle line twists and turns with significance . . . beauty hidden behind the wall or secrets. Randy b |
baby brother Hannah Ottenfeld (9) This haiku made me very emotional because my little brother, Danny, is now as tall as me and he is only 11 years old. I have hardly seen him in the past year because I stayed at school and then stayed for the summer so when I went home a few weeks ago for a day we measured and he is officially taller. This is was the same weekend I had to clean out my room for him to move into it because his nursery room is now too small for a growing boy. I absolutely adore my siblings and seeing him grow up has been such a transition because I’ll be gone for months at a time and so much will have changed. His voice got deeper, his feet and hands are bigger, his piano skills have gotten increasingly better. It’s these changes that make heart ache for going back home and thinking about my little brother growing up without my sister or I being home is so sad to think about. I know he does not mind it but it really makes me think about my post college career because I think I need to be home in Chicago to stay by him and see him throughout his high school career. Mary Callaghan, Fall 2018 |
the rain is falling |
wrapped in sheets |
on tip toes Isabella Spiritoso (3) |
one yellow butterfly Emily Sullins (3) |
polka-dot dress Isabella Loutfi (6) This haiku reminded be of the excitement and nerves before a dance. I'm not sure why it was that and not a date, but the polka dots reminded of the crazy prints one can find at a high school proms or homecoming. I was only asked to one dance during high school, but I made sure that my makeup was on point an hour before my date came to pick me up. Just reading the haiku, I felt the nervous jitters that cause pacing and looking out front windows, as well as the excitement to be seen in public all dressed up and on display with someone equally as dressed up and nervously excited. Daria Koon, Fall 2018 |
the longest line Mary Callaghan (9) Ah, the democratizing humanity of a long line at the women's restroom. Good senryu. Randy b |
3am Hannah Haedike (8) This haiku takes me to a park about 5 minutes from my house. In this park, there is a tree that someone has painted and built benches in the branches. It’s like a little secret in my neighborhood. Someone has to take you to this tree for you to know which one it is. My friend Caroline showed it to me three years ago. It’s actually really difficult to start climbing. The lowest limb is pretty high so you either need a boost from below or really good upper body strength. Once you get past that first branch, you have to test each branch before putting your weight on it because the tree itself is actually pretty dead. Once you get around six feet up, you start to see the big splotches of red, blue, and yellow paint, carved names, and notes. You look up and see a board of wood that becomes your next landmark. It seems so high and impossible to reach, but your friend leads the way and you follow in suit. I myself have never ventured past the second of three benches for fear that the entire tree will topple over with me in it. That second bench, however, is the perfect lookout for the entire city. I live on a hill, but face the mall and grocery store, so I don’t get the city lights. This tree faces the city though. This haiku brings me to this tree because it feels like home. Sometimes when I go to school, I worry that I will lose who I am at home. This tree is such a home for me. When I go back there, I feel strong and fearless. It’s not easy to climb the tree. It takes some physical strength as well as mental strength because it’s probably really dangerous and shouldn’t be climbed. Isabella Loutfi, Fall 2018 I read this poem one line at a time. When I read the “3am” I thought about what goes through my mind when I’m awake at 3am. Usually these thoughts are either really sad or nostalgic. When I got to “climbing trees, never thinking,” I visualized myself climbing trees with my friends and not having a care in the world. Upon reading the last line, it added to the nostalgia. It made me think of when I was younger, climbing trees, and not thinking about the future or anything. I also think it was interesting that the “never thinking” has a double meaning--not thinking about anything, and not thinking that you’d ever feel this way again. Jordan Neibuhr, Fall 2018 I really enjoyed this haiku mainly because of the style it is written. I didn’t think about exploring the different ways to present the haiku and I really appreciated how the author chose to single out the 3am line, making the time element all the more important and dramatic. I also liked the feeling of spontaneity alongside the climbing trees at 3am. It made me think of myself, out with my friends, exploring and truly not having a care in the world. Just enjoying one another’s company and being happy. It’s like genuine belly laughs and having the feeling that you truly couldn’t be happier than you are in that moment. Naomi Klingbeil, Fall 2018 This evokes a childlike spontaneity and playfulness we all miss while adulting. Randy b |
a train chugging by |
alone i sit . . . Hannah Haedike (3) This haiku took me to the outside of a medical professor’s office. I had just had my interview for admittance into medical school, and I was now outside awaiting the decision committee board to finish discussing my profile as a future medical student. My palms were sweaty, and I was extremely warm in my suit coat that I didn’t dare to take off in fear of losing my good impression. My paisley bowtie seemed a little tighter than before as the lump in my throat still remained from the interview. I could feel the hard, wooden bench beneath me, and I couldn’t help but hear the murmur of the medical committee. I wondered if I was good enough, if I was going to make it. I was literally one step away from my dream of entering medical school, and that decision rested in the hands of the committee alone. My head shot up as the door to the office opened. I nervously tugged my sleeve cuffs down into position and stepped into the next chapter of my life. Logan Bader, Fall 2018 |
I felt your hands Naomi Klingbeil (10) I enjoy the ambiguity of this haiku. I think there are many ways it can be interpreted. One interpretation is that the writer is having a nightmare, perhaps a bout of PTSD from a sexual assault incident. She is feeling her attackers hands on her skin again, but then she awakes and realizes that she is alone and she is safe. Another interpretation suggests that the writer misses someone. She is feeling their hands on her skin, she is longing for them, but then wakes up alone, saddened to know that her partner is no longer with her. I think that the words chosen for this haiku are very clever, in that they are just stating facts. The author leaves it up to the reader to interpret the haiku for themself. Melanie Wilson, Fall 2018 I really connected to this haiku. I recently had a falling out with my fiancée, and it’s been really hard being alone when I’m so used to having someone there. Dreaming of a person and waking to find that they’re not there is one of the most heartbreaking feelings. When listening to this poem read aloud in class, I was brought back to every night this last week where I dreamt of old times when things were okay, then had to wake up and realize that I was five hundred miles away, sitting in bed alone. Sophie Kibiger, Fall 2018 |
Judge Judy gowns |
quiet chatter Sydney Rudny (2) |
Message Sent . . . Alissa Kanturek I relate to this haiku very vividly. I picture my younger self sitting in my room, in the dark, my heart beating very fast. I'm staring at my phone screen, reading and rereading the text I just sent. Will they like me too? Will this ruin the friendship? Having so many naive thoughts on things that will not matter in the next three months. The anxiety, and then the butterflies when receiving that next text. Hannah Ottenfield, Fall 2018 |
sharp clicks echo in unison |
father’s breath— Jordan Niebuhr (6) This haiku evoked a halting response in me. I froze when I read it. I especially related to this haiku because my father was a major alcoholic. When I read the haiku, it was almost like I could smell the vodka on his breath again. My father was also very abusive when he was intoxicated. So the haiku also...felt...loud. My father yelled a lot when he was drunk, often times right in your face. His breath. The smell was pungent. The spit hot. Ringing ears. It made me flash back to times where I almost wished that he wasn’t in my life. He is doing a lot better now, so it also made me feel a bit of hope. It made me reflect how long ago his physical and verbal abuse was and how far he has come since then. I would say, in this light, the haiku was bittersweet. As I will always love my father, but this haiku definitely made me feel uneasy. Like time warping. Hard to explain. Jenesi Moore, Fall 2018 |
the end of the heat |
my mug is empty Isabella Loutfi (14) When I read “my mug”, I automatically think of having a cup of coffee in the morning and the sadness that comes with seeing the emtiness in the cup when all of my coffee is gone. The next line of “you smile”, makes me literally picture all of my loved ones and anyone that has ever made me happy and I just picture them all smiling at me and the joy their happiness brings me. That utter happiness right there is enough to keep me running for days. Seeing the people I love be happy is better than any coffee I could drink in the morning. Not to mention, this haiku is just so genuine and sweet. It’s also innocent in the fact that by a few simple words one can just be filled with contentment and happiness. Hannah Haedike, Fall 2018 I loved this poem instantly because it gave me such a warm feeling. I love the metaphor of the empty mug representing a heart or a soul. I find it sweet that something as simple as a smile fills that person’s “mug”, which shows that this person makes the author extremely happy. I also appreciate the universality of the haiku because anyone could relate this to a friend, family member, or significant other. Rachel Pevehouse, Fall 2018 This haiku instantly brought me happiness. It reminds me of how easily someone special can brighten and cheer up your day. And how if you surround yourself with the right people you can always feel joy. It made me think of people I love and made me miss mornings with my family. It is a simple poem yet it has so much meaning to it. Sydney Rudny, Fall 2018 Love is a rough game. It has not felt easy or good in a long time, but I’m currently starting to talk to someone who I am genuinely interested in. This is following a very rough ending to a previous romantic interest. This haiku made me think of my current romantic interest and how they make me feel. My old romantic interest made me feel the opposite of this, so it is a nice reminder that I am now focusing on someone who is actually worth my time rather than someone who makes me feel awful about myself and love itself. This haiku is not as visual as some of them, but it evokes a lot of emotion for me and I appreciate that. Zachary McReynolds, Fall 2018 |
sun setting Isabella Loutfi (8) I loved this haiku’s imagery and use of color. Upon its first reading, I had such a vibrant image in my head of a summer sunset from the sliding glass doors in my dining room. I could feel the cool summer air creeping in as I sit down to eat dinner with my whole family, enjoying their company. The use of the Dreamsicle in this haiku gives a very innocent and playful tone, which describes summer well as a whole. The sliding off the stick line is a rare metaphorical line for haiku, but perfectly captures the gradual yet unpreventable setting of the sun and ending of a fun day. Alissa Kanturek, Fall 2018 |
I am a star |
crescent moon |
city boys Hannah Ottenfeld (5) |
woman Sophie Kibiger (13) |
left with Zachary McReynolds (7) |
car windows down Rachel Pevehouse (6) While reading this poem, I picture myself driving through the countryside, down a backroad between cornfield on a summer evening. I have the windows in my car rolled down and the sunroof open. Country music is playing on the radio, and I’m singing along. During the transition between songs, I can hear the crickets and the locusts chirping. Haley Vemmer, Fall 2018 |
manicured hands Hannah Ottenfeld (3) After reading the first two lines, I imagine a stylish woman from the upper class. She is a part of high society, and her husband is a millionaire who has found success in his business dealings. This woman is classy and put-together, but she is hiding behind a facade. The third line symbolizes so much. Why is a nail broken on this woman? She is the type that must show perfection to keep her high reputation spotless. Her nails are always manicured, and I imagine she just had her nails done this past weekend. However, this week was the breaking point, literally for herself and figuratively for her nails. Her husband is verbally abusive, and he is a snake beneath his charming demeanor. That one broken nail of hers is a symbol of her own brokenness, her stress, and her decision to give up. Her physical appearance matters not to her anymore; she cannot go on living her horrid life. Emily Sullins, Fall 2018 |
our last goodbye Alissa Kanturek (6) |
head pounding |
falling |
5 am Sydney Rudny (4) |
leaves crunch to my beat Isabella Spiritoso (4) |
scales green and |
calculating outcomes, |
your lips Naomi Klingbeil (3) |
the winding stairs |
tall forest pines |
baby’s cry soothed |
broken side mirrors Mary Callaghan (3) |
open wooden doors Logan Bader (2) |
sitting on the train |
|
holding hands Randy Brooks (7) |
© 2018, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.