EN340 / IN350 Global Haiku Tradition
Dr. Randy Brooks
Spring 2003
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Personal Best Haiku
by

Erin Osmus

After completing my personal best collection, I have come to realize a few things. The first is that I am not as affiliated with nature as I once thought. I was always of the mind that a good nature haiku was what I enjoyed reading and writing the most. After compiling my own work, I noticed I had barely any haiku relating to nature at all. It was the senses and emotions of life that I enjoyed the most. I have a strong love for colors and the emotions they can evoke in a haiku. For instance, the tranquility of blue or the loneliness of black.

I also noted that I enjoyed describing emotions like a deep seeded love, lust and desire, embarrassment, content and tranquility, and finally hatred. These subjects appeal to me because they can relate to everyone, even if the haiku is personal to only me.

After completing this semester, I find that I have developed a better idea of my writing. I know what I would like to pursue and how I can go about doing so. I have also learned the skeletal framework and philosophy of American and Japanese haiku, but with enough freedom to go my own way. I find haiku to be yet another outlet for my emotions.

—Erin Osmus


Reader's Response

yellowed love letters
wrapped in a ribbon
stuffed in a drawer

I responded to this one quite a bit, it reminds me of life. A momento to remember a certain moment, but the sentiments attached to that moment or the member of it fades and we are forced to push it aside and forget the spirit
and vitality it once held for us. Actually this haiku reminded me of a poem I read last semester for my Asian Humanities Japan class:

A thing that fades
With no outward sign—
Is the flower
Of the heart of man
In this world

The poem is by Ono no Komachi, I feel Erin's haiku invokes a similar response in the reader.

your eyes follow
the amber wave
between my shoulder blades

finger combing my hair
I lean back
into your body

I have to compare this two haiku together since they seem to go together quite well. The read gets the sense that the unnamed figure of the lover in both haiku is the same person, especially since both use the motif of hair in their composition. The use of hair also reflects the writers own pride in her hair, something which is a common theme in Japanese classic (like The Tale of Genji, and The Pillow Book—well kept hair reflect refinement and good breeding). I must say the two lines that really grabbed me were "I lean back / into your body." They not only set the mood and intimacy of the scene but also paint a picture of the couple relaxing into one another and at ease in their closeness.

Valentines
a rouge heart
on the rim of my glass

I have to say the first two lines don't particularly grab me as anything special- I fear the use of the words "valentines" and "heart" a a little too kitsch (especially in combination with one another) and the use of the word "rouge" forced in conjunction with the aforementioned words. However what pulls it together is the last line—it gives the reader the notion that the writer is drinking their heart. It's a lonely image, as if the writer is alone on Valentine's Day in a bar drinking down the bitter taste of their loneliness, and their aching heart. The heart taints the flavor of the alcohol as well as the day (a day that should feel like any other, but isn't if there is no one to share it with).

—Megan Elise McFarlane


Alone I sit
     bourbon . . .
     no ice.


First spring day
I grimace
white winter legs


yellowed love letters
wrapped in a ribbon
stuffed in a drawer

 

 

Finger combing my hair
I lean back
into your body


Valentines
a rouge heart
on the rim of the glass

 

 

over blueberry pie
she gives me
mother's keepsake


your eyes follow
the amber wave
between my shoulder blades

 

 

You cannot describe the man without describing the setting. Somewhere deep in the hills, off an ordinary dusty road, lives a man. He has raised two sons to men, and put the third in the ground. He has lived his life from town to town as only migrant workers can. Every day he goes into the fields and he strings barbwire around his land. His hands are so thick and calloused that not even the barbs can cut through. Every night he surrounds himself with his family to play a round of cards and hunt down the flies that sneak in through the screen door. And no matter how many years he has left, he will live and die in those mountains.

family card night
granny deals another
slice of pineapple turnover


past bedtime
I snuggle closer
to Mother's heart

 

©2003 Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur, Illinois || all rights reserved for original authors