compare and contrast for one deep breath

metal beaked cranes
heads lifted to the sky
forgotten bird cries

some photos from my trip to manchester

Manchester Craft Centre

Salford Quays

the art of sleeping

bodies of water for one deep breath

~

still surface

mirror for the sky

vast blue heart

~

(photo above taken at Snowdonia National Park, Wales)

*

~

struck by light

silent grandeur

on our shore

~

~

(photo above taken at a secret location)

coool cats

feathered friends for one deep breath

~

wet from the pond
swimmers huddle under towels
swans without feathers

~

even feathered friends
require maintenance
bags of squirming worms

~

yellow feathers strewn
tracing a course
playground for the cat

~

blue breasted dream
hummingbird in Notting Hill?
Impossible!

~

I endeavour to write haiku from my own experiences. So when I saw the topic this week I was a little worried. I tried to think of beautiful moments I'd had with birds, moments of profound and uplifiting connection with nature.

Unfortunately, I could only think of unpleasant ones - one legged pigeons, greedy raucous gulls, my cousin being pecked by a stork in a zoo, the Hitchcock film, my father's birds escaping and dead budgies. Even my supposed sighting of a hummingbird in London one hot summer about 10 years ago is tinged with sourness because nobody believed I saw it.

One person in particular that I told about my sighting was fervently adamant that I was mistaken. This person was in her 60s, always knew the names of everything and always carried a mini screwdriver set with her. All in all, she was a force to be reckoned with, and she was sort of my boss, so I was in no position to reckon. Also I couldn't think of any reason why she would be so vehement about it unless a) she was on the verge of dementia but this smacks of ageism so I couldn't really hold on to that one or, b) she was prone to unreasonable jealousy about unusual urban bird sightings that she wasn't party to.

Anyway, all the disbelief wore me down so I'm not even sure about what I saw anymore.

Perhaps I should spend more time in the countryside to build up my reckoning experience, at least when it comes to recognising birds.

So these are my offerings and why they came out the way they did, thanks for reading this far.

The drawing is an ink and watercolour collage. The fragment of cloth came from an old skirt.

The little feather came from the budgie that our old cat Caesar probably helped along to a premature end. Sorry little one.

For other haiku on feathered friends, go here.

one of my favourite haiku

"The temple bell stops

but the sound keeps coming

out of the flowers"

- Basho

seven forgotten treasures

Isn't it funny how you can remember having something, are certain you still have it, and go looking for it, in all the places you're sure it has to be, the place you used to keep it, but don't remember the moment you decided to throw it out or give it away? I was sure I had a bunch of felt pieces. I went looking for them in all my boxes of stuff this afternoon. I wanted to do something with the buttons I got in Italy, but...I couldn't find the felt anywhere. Either I've used it all up, or I gave it away. I got the felt many years ago you see, at least 6 or 7 (yes, I do hoarde!), to make bean bag donkeys.

So anyway, in my search for the felt, I found some things I'd forgotten about that made me go...oh! I'd forgotten all about you! Things I've had for a few years and which made me smile.

1) A pen holder, bought in Thailand, which is now on my desk.

2) A fairy / witch I made out of fimo and glitter

3) A roll of black and white film (50 ISO) which expired over 4 years ago. I'm going to dust off my manual camera and use it anyway and see what comes out.

4) Some very small hardbacked notebooks which have actually been filled ~ these came from a wonderful shop called Neal Street East which is no longer there...they had a basement full of colourful cheap nick nacks from around the world where I could easily lose myself for hours!

5) A box of words...I remember cutting these words up for a writing group exercise at least 3 years ago now!!

6) A felt covered blank book from Paperchase which I never used. I'm determined to find a use for it now.

7) Some silk cast offs from a haberdashery in St Ives...such a gorgeous colour. Must find a use for this too!

So there you go...what small treasures have you forgotten about? Tell me about them!

saturday afternoon haiku

late wind stirs

the scent of frying spices

yellow ladybird drops

~

swift chasing gull

aeroplane coasting the blue

the cats roll over

~

soft treads on the grass

shine on her fur

my heart leaps

~

hanging on the line

two icecream sundaes appear

pattern becomes clear

on criticism

This post is in response to a critique received from Gerald for my latest one deep breath haikus which are here. They are also repeated below, for ease of reading. There are no pictures in this post, and it's long, so you don't have to read it. But I feel rather passionately about it, so it would make me happy if you (meaning anyone who happens along, not anyone specifically) at least tried. And by all means, do tell me what you think, if you want to.

~

Writing as a haiku novice and an imperfect being, I have this to say about criticism: it isn’t an easy thing to take at the best of times, even if it is asked for, and in a sphere like the internet where the boundaries of the relationships between the people who interact and the situations in which they interact haven’t necessarily been established or clarified, it can be even trickier.

We don’t know who we’re encountering or much, if anything, about people or their intentions. We might not know what entitles someone to give critique, or to make what they have to say worth listening to. It could be they are a renowned poetry professor who’s had many volumes of work published, or an experienced teacher, or an avid insightful reader, or someone who is used to giving critique and is often asked for their opinion. But this might not be obvious and even if it is, it’s still receiving criticism from a stranger.

Personally, I started writing haiku from an instinctively exploratory and curious place, dipping my toes in the water. I wanted to enjoy the experience of writing without the aim of literary achievement. I’ve done other writing with that aim in mind and welcomed a change, free from the “editor” mindset. A friendly and welcoming forum like One Deep Breath (ODB) seemed like a breath of fresh air. So to someone like me, receiving a literary style critique, especially since it wasn’t asked for, could seem heavy-handed, unwelcome, patronising and perhaps even discouraging.

I also have difficulty with the idea of dismissing people who take criticism personally. This is because I’ve been witness to situations where criticism has been delivered in a manner that would be hard not to take personally. I’ve also made the mistake of giving unsolicited, well-intentioned criticism to someone I didn’t know on a poem that was deeply personal to them, at a time when they were particularly sensitive about the subject. It was a mistake because it hurt rather than helped them, regardless of my intention. So I don’t say this lightly. How one “should” respond and does respond depends on so many things. It depends on the writer’s intentions, it depends on the critic’s intentions, it depends on the context, the timing, and the way criticism is given. The ideal response, in my opinion, shouldn’t be entirely personal, but cannot entirely exclude it either – because people are, well, people.

Thus, I also don’t agree that there is no point offering an opinion to those who might take a critique personally. Rather that the way in which it is given be modified. And besides, if haiku is about feeling, then of course the criticism will feel personal on some level, no matter how it’s intended. Even the most experienced, widely published writers are nervous about how their work is received. Why should it be different for anyone else? I’m not saying critique is bad. But people are people. And context and timing matter.

As for me, what if I’m not ready for critique, or for critique at this level? What if I simply don’t want it? What if I’m writing on my relatively anonymous blog as opposed to going on a course or as part of a writing group or submitting for publication because I’m not interested in receiving critical analyses, because I don’t want the scrutiny that entails, because I’m tired of that whole mindset that can kill the joy of writing. Therefore, in the blogosphere especially, I think a more careful approach to commenting is required.

Having said that, Gerald’s comments made me think. And that’s fine, because I enjoy thinking. But I also had a personal reaction to his words. I’m human, and would rather have a personal response too, not just a purely logical one. There is a lot to be said for feelings and instinct. The challenge for me has been to get beyond my personal reaction, look at why I’ve reacted the way I have and listen to what he had to say, giving him the benefit of the doubt (because I don’t know him) that he had some entitlement to say it. And I did listen. It wasn’t easy, but I listened.

I didn’t agree with everything he said - I don’t think the purpose of receiving criticism is to agree, but rather to question and examine and then take what is useful but forget about what isn’t - but I’ve ultimately enjoyed the process and learned something from it, and have written down my responses to his critique below. The italicized words in red are his. Each of my haiku that he refers to is in blue.

~

“OK, I hope you'll take this critique in the spirit it is offered. You seem to feel the need to pack your poems out to fill the 5-7-5 syllable count - but haiku is about feeling not counting syllables.”

Yes, it’s true. I do try to stick to the 5-7-5 form. Yes haiku is about feeling, but, it can be said, so is other writing, so is prose, so are various forms of poetry, so is music or art. But haiku is not just about feeling it is also about composition. And what makes a haiku different from other forms of writing or composition, what makes it a haiku and not just a collection of words or phrases? For me personally, it is the form.

Having restrictions can make things positively challenging, make you think more deeply about the order of the words and their placement and how the slightest change can throw a new feeling, a new sound, a new meaning to the haiku. I don’t know much about haiku, but isn’t that what the purpose of form is? I didn’t even know until I discovered the ODB site that there are other forms, like tanga for example. The only form I’m familiar with is the one I remember from school, the 5-7-5. I’ve been putting “find out more about other haiku forms” on my to-do list for weeks now. I haven’t gotten round to it yet. Which is why I persist with the 5-7-5.

The form gives me a focus, a frame if you like, in which to contain the imagery and emotion and if I’m successful, the moment, I hope to convey. You don’t know me so you don’t know that I’m a bit of a stickler for things like this. I know that not everybody is, but I am, and I can only write from who I am and where I am at this moment.

As you’ve pointed out, I am a novice. I haven’t been writing haiku for long. Once I gain more experience and feel more at ease with the form, then I might feel more able to break it and experiment, and be freer. But for now, this is where I am, and I’m feeling my way along at my own slow pace.
~
Haiku 1:

morning bright evening light
earth’s speckled shadows falling
constant companion

“the first (haiku) packs far too much into the first line - is it morning or is it evening? or is morning just perhaps describing the evening brightness (my experience is the brightest suns are evening anyway)”

I thought this a rather presumptuous comment, and I had not intended to justify my writing in such detail when I decided to participate in ODB, because it does take some of the joy out of writing, and because everyone will have their own interpretation and spelling out mine might take away from that, but since you took the time to look at my work in detail, I will take the time to respond.

Bearing in mind the theme was shadow and light, the haiku is trying to be about that. The shadows cast by both morning and evening. The “point” of the haiku was to show that these shadows - cast by both morning and evening light, were the writer’s constant companions. I was following an image, a feeling – both of which are personal to me. But everyone will see something different, that’s what I like about the ODB forum. It was generous of you to share your experience of light with me, but I can only write from my own experience.

~

Haiku 2:

shadows in my heart
moonshine on your fingertips
the thunder passes

“#2 is very good though but you could usefully lose the definite article on line 3”

Thank you, but I disagree about the definite article. It’s there because it refers to a specific mood in a specific moment and not just thunder or weather in general. To me, therefore, the definite article is necessary.

~

Haiku 3:

morning on my bed
evening on the lavender
seasons on my landscape

“#3 is problematical as a haiku - whilst a "moment" can indeed stretch a whole day, haiku are best when describing a specific moment, morning or evening, rarely both at the same time.”

I think I can see what you mean by this. Again I had an image in mind, of the movement of the light as day progresses. I did struggle with how to convey it. How, in the morning, the sun would cast shadows onto my bedspread but by evening, the shadows had moved to the lavender in my garden. I guess what I need to express better here is the movement of the light, though there is a part of me that likes this haiku the way it is, but for other reasons.

~

Haiku 4:

snow bright cold goodbye
sun bright scorched beginnings
seasons on my skin

“#4 - you should try to avoid repeating words twice in a single haiku - they lose rather than gain impact thereby”

I would usually agree with you on this, but not here, because my repetition was deliberate. The haiku describes two different kinds of brightness – snow and sun, and using the same word, to me, emphasises the difference. But that’s just my opinion.

~

Haiku 5:

just like butterflies
the light moves across the floor
watch pounce pounce her swift white paws

“#5 - similes are better implied rather than stated -- something like

butterfly-soft
light moves across the floor
swift white paws pounce”

I can see your point about similes, perhaps the same can be said for criticism. I don’t feel that the rewriting of my haiku has necessarily helped your point. Mainly because they are no longer my words or my haiku, it’s become yours.

I don’t like the line butterfly-soft because that’s not the image I saw and it wasn’t soft. I also wrote the last line specifically like that because to me it captures the exact image of my cat watching and then pounce pouncing on the light with her swift white paws. I like the way that sounds (so much so that I broke with the 5-7-5 form!). I also like the way it makes me feel when I read it back to myself. But your comment has highlighted for me that perhaps the butterfly is not the best image to use in this instance, or that I need to find a better way of using it.

~

Haiku 6:

red and July sun
draws a fire tattoo of light
across our bared hips

“#6 a great image. ”red and July" sounds a bit awkward but I can't think of a better way to express it so perhaps it works just fine - in fact I really warm to this last one.”

Thank you. This made me wonder what image the red conjured up for you. Is it the same as the image I had in mind? It’s unlikely, but that doesn’t matter. One of the exciting things about sharing writing and opinion is that everyone’s response varies and each response is personal to the reader. Hanulf put it beautifully in response to the comments on her haiku.

She wrote, “Always interesting to see what others get out of one's writing - everyone sees something different, has a different favorite - sometimes a reader senses the experience one had at the writing moment, sometimes readers add new meaning through their own unique interpretation - which adds more depth and texture. I love hearing this kind of feedback.”

I like hearing this kind of feedback too, because it feels appropriate for the context we find ourselves in, and because it is learning by encouragement and by connecting with others' personal responses, which is what is meaningful to me.

Also perhaps the awkwardness you detect here could be described as dissonance? Maybe that’s what it is, and maybe that’s how it was intended?

On a penultimate note, I was drawn to this part of the quote that is on the sidebar of the ODB site:

"The primary purpose of reading and writing haiku is sharing moments of our lives that have moved us, pieces of experience and perception that we offer or receive as gifts.”

- William Higginson


I don’t know about others, but this is the spirit in which I want to participate in one deep breath. Maybe you could bear this in mind when you next give someone a critique of their offerings. They might not just be words; they might have been deeply personal, they might have come from someone’s heart and life. Be open to the possibility that your comments may not always be received in the way you intended them, whatever that may be. That is the nature of words. We don’t always know how they will be taken. It is also the nature of people.

Finally, it occurred to me that the idea of being a novice or a beginner has often been denigrated. But, I don’t necessarily mind being a novice. As the venerable Shunryu Suzuki said,

“The mind of the beginner is empty, free of the habits of the expert, ready to accept, ready to doubt, and open to all the possibilities…In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind there are few.”

(from “Zen Mind, Beginners Mind”)

In which case, I will strive always to be a beginner.

All the best.

shadows and light ~ haiku for one deep breath

~

~

morning bright evening light
earth’s speckled shadows falling
constant companion

~

shadows in my heart
moonshine on your fingertips
the thunder passes

~

morning on my bed
evening on the lavender
seasons on my landscape

~

snow bright cold goodbye
sun bright scorched beginnings
seasons on my skin

~

just like butterflies
the light moves across the floor
watch pounce pounce her swift white paws

~

red and July sun
draws a fire tattoo of light
across our bared hips

~

driftwood

I love finding natural treasures. I also like things that look like something else. These pieces of driftwood were found on the beach at Fiorenzuola di Focara.