Feed on
Posts
Comments

haiku (one-a-day)

Skin Of A River Birch, Minneapolis, Minnesota, August 2007,photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

Skin Of A River Birch, Minneapolis, Minnesota, August 2007, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.



haiku (one-a-day)


This post was created for a very specific purpose: writing a haiku a day. Some of our readers have expressed an interest in haiku. And some have left haiku in our comments on various posts. I wanted to create a space for our readers to come back to, anytime they wanted, and drop in a daily haiku.


Last year for the 4 season Writing Intensive in Taos, we read Clark Strand’s, Seeds from a Birch Tree: Writing Haiku and the Spiritual Journey. It is a book I go back to often to support the practice of writing.


Clark Strand is a former Zen Buddhist monk. In 1996 he left his position as senior editor of Tricycle: The Buddhist Review to write and teach full time. In Seeds from a Birch Tree, he describes haiku as the following:

A haiku is a seventeen-syllable poem about the season. Arranged in three lines of five, seven, and five syllables, and balanced on a pause, a haiku presents one event from life happening now. However much we may say about haiku, its history or its various schools, it is difficult to go beyond these three simple rules: form, season, and present mind.


loving its whiteness
I walk around the birch tree
to the other side


haiku practice


When we did our post a few days ago on the release of Natalie Goldberg’s new book, Old Friend from Far Away, one of our regular readers, breathepeace, made several comments on haiku as a practice:

Natalie introduced me to haiku poetry. This year, I am committed to write one each day (or more if I choose).

Haiku is a precise way of working with words and I have found that it does lead me to other writing: poems, essays, etc. I’ve also learned that it helps me to focus on detail, finding just the right word (with the right number of syllables!) and, yes, it is a bite-sized writing practice. I’m happy to hear others exploring and playing with the haiku form.

According to Clark Strand, all you need to write haiku is some familiarity with the form and a simple notebook:

The correct way to use a haiku diary is just to be very free and open. Don’t set a single format. Don’t organize the book five haiku to a page or limit it to poems and dates, excluding prose. You may even find that you jot down an occasional phone number or appointment in its pages when no other book is handy, or — if you are an artist — a sketch of some interesting scene.

Write down your haiku just as they come to mind, without too much deliberation over whether they are good or bad. Improvement takes place slowly, so set them down the way they come and stay alert for the next opportunity to write.


Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.



haiku walk


In the summer of 2006, Natalie took us on a field trip to some of her favorite places at Ghost Ranch, New Mexico. We wrote, swam, and took a haiku walk up Box Canyon. For me, Ghost Ranch was one of the most inspiring trips of the year. Natalie had us follow Clark Strand’s outline for walking and writing haiku:

In the simplest form, writing haiku is closer to collecting shells than searching for the proper word. When you go to the shore to collect shells, you just walk along in a relaxed way, now and then stooping down to look at something interesting or beautiful. Sometimes you pick up a fragment for its shape or color, and sometimes a fully formed shell. If you take a daily haiku walk in this same spirit, soon you will find that haiku come all by themselves.

Loosely, Strand’s haiku walk goes something like this:


beginning

  • make sure your purpose is only to walk, to be outside in nature
  • you’re not trying to get somewhere, or even to write haiku
  • relax into the feeling of being outdoors
  • notice weather, plants, animals, but keep walking

middle

  • let your body loosen and relax
  • let nature displace the ordinary day to day concerns
  • take time to pause over things that strike you as beautiful
  • pauses create space in your life for something to enter

end (beginner’s mind)

  • let that something come in
  • take your notebook out of your pocket and carry it in your hand
  • the space you created in your life a few minutes ago now becomes the space to write a poem


Last year, I walked a local labyrinth in St. Paul to write haiku. But it can be as simple as walking around your neighborhood. Or walking around the block. After a while you won’t need to structure your walks anymore. You’ll know the right moment to write.



haiku - looking out, looking in


Haiku as a poetry form provides a way to be present to the outside, in order to go deeper within. Japanese poet, Matsuo Basho, is known for his haiku. In the year before he died, he wrote the following verse:


Chrysanthemums bloom
in a gap between the stones
of a stonecutter’s yard


Near the end of Seeds from a Birch Tree, Strand speaks of Basho’s greatest work, The Narrow Road to the Deep North:

Haiku, in many ways the most outward, most concrete, and most perpetually grounded form of poetry, is also the most inward. It requires a lot of inner work.

Basho titled his greatest work Oku no Hosomichi (The Narrow Road to the Deep North). Basho traveled a long way north on a journey with his student and fellow poet Sora and kept a diary of his travels. The diary contains some of his most famous haiku.

The way north is the way within. This kind of understanding comes when we realize that in looking out, we are also looking in. We learn it by looking carefully at the world.

Basho said:  There is one thing which flows through all great art, and that is a mind to follow nature, and return to nature.


Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.          Skin Of A River Birch, August 2007, Minneapolis, Minnesota, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.


Feel free to drop a haiku into the comments in this post, any time, day or night. Tomorrow, or 52 days from now. It doesn’t matter.

Write a haiku a day for a month. If you wish, break structure and form. Be playful with your writing. With practice, you’ll find your way home.



-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, January 15th, 2008


-one writer’s review of Seeds from a Birch Tree, Hyperion, 1997 (including more haiku from the book)Tony Lipka on Clark Strand’s Haiku of Mindfulness

-short bio of Clark Strand: World Wisdom

291 Responses to “haiku (one-a-day)”

  1. on January 16, 2008 at 12:19 am The Lone Beader

    I love Haiku. I think I mentioned this before, but I used to write them all the time:
    http://thelonebeader.blogspot.com/search?q=haiku

    I understand that all 3 lines of the haiku should never form a complete sentence…


  2. on January 16, 2008 at 7:26 am QuoinMonkey

    Thanks for the link, LB. I saw that you had one published as well. (And your beadwork, too!) I like the Roadside Haiku and the Celtic Woman Haiku. Great collection. Looking forward to reading more.


  3. on January 16, 2008 at 9:42 am Becky

    I love haiku. It is beautiful. ;) Nice blog by the way. ;)


  4. on January 16, 2008 at 10:47 am QuoinMonkey

    Welcome, Becky. Thanks for stopping by.

    Here’s my haiku for today. I wrote it in the shower in the early a.m. (I do some of my best writing in the shower). The floor was ice cold. I stepped through a ray of sun, shining through the bathroom window. Maybe I was sleepwalking. 8)

    minus seventeen
    January sun covers
    the mole on my cheek


  5. on January 16, 2008 at 11:56 am breathepeace

    Thank you, QM, for sharing the details of haiku and for reminding me about taking a haiku walk. I am so grateful that you have dedicated a space for writers to share haiku. I hope that many will leave a trail of haiku breadcumbs for all of us to follow.

    winter cottonwood:
    branches, earth’s capillaries,
    reach into blue sky


  6. on January 16, 2008 at 12:08 pm QuoinMonkey

    breathepeace, thank you for waking me up to haiku practice again. I really enjoy it. It grounds me. And it was deeply gratifying to write this post. Deep bow.


  7. on January 16, 2008 at 1:02 pm ybonesy

    This is a great post, QM. The green in the photo is amazing. Would it be silly for me to say it doesn’t even look natural, it’s such an intense and odd color?

    Speaking of intense, this is an intense day at work. I didn’t want to comment on this post until I had a haiku to add. One came to me after a marathon of meetings, sitting back, looking up at the ceiling. Here it is:

    the florescent lights
    oddly soothing in their way
    still, outside beckons


  8. on January 16, 2008 at 6:18 pm Marylin

    QM, thank you for this great post. I had already decided that a haiku a day would be good for me to do, and then you came up with these very instructive and informative guides. As little as I get outside when it’s cold…dash to work; store; meetings; home again;
    still, living on the edge of town, with my view of mountains, etc. I will try to get as much nature into my poems as I can. The other morning, I raised the shade and surprised a deer breaking her fast, only inches away from my window. It prompted me to write:

    deer in my garden,

    surprised brown eyes on both sides

    of glass in between!

    One day, as I was counting syllables, it reminded me of when I was editor of the front page of my high school newspaper, and one of my tasks was to write the headlines. The similarities of haiku and headlines being that headlines have to tell what the story is about and fit into a very specific, limited space. It was a challenge which I enjoyed and had fun with.
    YB, I had to grin when I got this mental image of you staring up at the lights, wishing you were outside!


  9. on January 16, 2008 at 6:19 pm QuoinMonkey

    ybonesy, I like your haiku about light, inside and out. And how odd the light is in most work places. In some ways, it’s the quality of light the day I took the birch shot that makes that green so intense.

    It was taken the same day as this shot - Calm Before The Storm (LINK). And a huge storm was moving into Minnesota that night. It’s almost like the grass behind the tree is an eerie mint green.


  10. on January 16, 2008 at 6:33 pm QuoinMonkey

    Marylin, I love your haiku. Such a sense of humor…it made me smile, imagining those two sets of brown eyes. 8)

    I think it is wonderful that you’re going to do the haiku a day. You might be surprised with how much nature is also around when you are dashing to and home from work. It always surprises me when I pay attention.

    I know what you mean about the limited space of headlines. Definitely a challenge. Just the right words are needed.

    BTW, after a while, you get to break the rules, too. And write haiku about anything you want to write it about. Whatever gets us to write! It’s really the dedicated practice of seeing that changes us.

    Hope you are staying warm out your way. We are headed back into the deep freeze tomorrow. Extremes are always good for the writing!


  11. on January 17, 2008 at 11:44 am breathepeace

    Love the photo, too, QM. It is great inspiration:

    peeling white birch bark:
    seeing beneath outer skin
    tenderness revealed


  12. on January 17, 2008 at 1:04 pm QuoinMonkey

    breathepeace, “tenderness revealed” - such a lovely line. And exactly the way I feel when I catch a glimpse of what’s under the skin of a tree.

    I just got back from a rushed trip to the dentist. But this practice made me pay attention. I wrote this walking into her office. Not much more time to comment right now. I’ll be back later!

    orange ring circles elm
    black ice sidewalk, building plate -
    1895


  13. on January 17, 2008 at 5:20 pm breathepeace

    QM — Nice haiku. I can “see” your walk into the dentist’s office. I hope the dental equipment is newer than the building…and that your teeth are not in “crisis.”

    For me, “tenderness revealed” spoke of both trees and people, when paired with “seeing beneath outer skin.” It provided the space for it to mean just that or maybe something more.


  14. on January 17, 2008 at 8:07 pm alittlediddy

    QM, I am willing to finally bare my soul! I have always surrounded myself by nature. I thrive on the relaxation & joy I gain, whether it be the river, the beach, the places I have visited, or the exterior of the places I have called “home”. For years J & I were fortunate enough to rent the farm house we affectionately called “Green Acres”.
    Now we find ouselves in the home we invested in, surrounded by trees & wildlife. We like seclusion. I could never live in a city, though I know well that it works for others. Most of our observations here are very much like the description that Marylin wrote about in her comments. Behind glass windows, we have witnessed the true beauty that nature offers! Deer, squirrels, all varieties of wild birds, and the occasional wild turkeys that drink from our stream & make their journey( to wheverver the heck they go) through our back yard. Open a door & they dash away!
    I have never tried my hand at Haiku, though I find these posts to be quite interesting. I made a decision to try one a week. I have never done this type of practice before. I wrote one last week & one today. It surprised me that both had to do with the loss of 5 trees the week before Christmas. We had a series of ice storms. The trees stood little chance of surviving the weight of the heavy ice. We sat in our living room, nothing we could do. In a period of only 2 days we lost a Weeping Willow tree, a cherry tree, & 3 others . Two of them completely uprooted by the domino effect. Mind you, these were tall & well established trees, at least 70 feet tall or better. I have an issue looking at the devastion still there. Well, what this is leading to are last weeks haiku & todays, so I will type them in that order.

    midwinter sunshine
    floods through the naked tree top,
    warmth before nights chill

    snow falling, like the
    trees felled by ice storms past
    wood for next winter

    Any critique or comments would be helpful to me as I intend to continue this practice. D


  15. on January 17, 2008 at 10:02 pm QuoinMonkey

    diddy, I was just going to head to bed and decided to check for comments. I’m glad I did. Your haiku are wonderful. Don’t change a thing. I’m so excited you are doing the haiku practice once a week. It is a great gift to yourself (and to us).

    I feel for the loss of those trees. I know what the land around your home looks like and the deep well of trees that drops in front of the house is part of the serenity of your place. I’m so sorry you lost them. It is a kind of grieving process.

    We are surrounded by a few old growth oaks here. And every time we get our violent spring and summer storms, I’m so afraid one or more is going to topple. I can see why the haiku led you to those beautiful trees. It’s kind of a memorial to them, a thing of honor.

    Looking forward to your weekly practices. Anything else you discover along the way, about the practice, your writing, the haiku, would be wonderful to learn. I’m heading to bed soon. Sweet dreams to all in your part of the country.


  16. on January 17, 2008 at 10:09 pm QuoinMonkey

    breathepeace, no crisis here. Just the second appointment in a series to get a crown on. She cemented the porcelain into place today. I feel like a new woman (chomp, chomp). 8)

    Yes, the tenderness revealed…trees and people. Underneath the skin. The great thing about haiku is there are so few words, the interpretations can stretch out beyond…like when I used the 1895, I had no idea if anyone would know what I mean. You did.

    And, yes, dental equipment was much newer than the building. I had no idea that building was that old until I slowed down and paid attention to the numbers etched near the steps as I was walking inside.


  17. on January 17, 2008 at 11:18 pm alittlediddy

    QM, thanks for your comments. Anyway you can correct sushine to sunshine? I laughed after I sent off the comment (it pays to proof read before hitting submit comment )! I’m still adjusting to the laptops smaller , more sensitive keyboard! I was afraid that anyone reading sushine would think I had taken a stroll down by the stream & that some fish had jumped out of the water & I was eating a raw frozen fish! I hope to find myself feeling more comfortable with haiku. As the year goes by I look forward to this practice!
    Pleasant dreams to you & if you & yb are still meeting tomorrow, I wish you both well in your decision process. D


  18. on January 17, 2008 at 11:44 pm QuoinMonkey

    lol, I just corrected it. You know, I didn’t even catch that. My eye glossed over it and added in the N. Yep, we are still meeting. We’ll see what happens. More will be revealed. Night. 8)


  19. on January 18, 2008 at 12:22 am ybonesy

    Ditto diddy (I like saying that). The two haikus flow well. I can hear and feel the pause. And the sense of resignation and sadness with the second one, esp. I’m thrilled you’re doing this!!


  20. on January 18, 2008 at 1:22 pm QuoinMonkey

    gray heater throws light
    summer wasps hide between gusts
    of bitter wind chills


  21. on January 18, 2008 at 10:20 pm freespirit

    Hi gang, hope it’s ok if I just jump right in. All your haiku are wonderful, you folks rock! I just learned about haiku this week, QM your blog being very timely for me. And the 1895 thing was very clever. My initial thoughts about haiku regarded the spiritualiy side, trying to rejuvenate .. I love thinking about these things.. even though I have broken the rules on several. They are cathartic. Happy writing all.

    ice sliding from leaves
    my cheeks turning red from cold,
    the morning smoke break.

    half-moon halo glows
    clouds rush by in sequenced steps,
    snow is on the way


  22. on January 19, 2008 at 1:48 pm Marylin

    frozen dormant grass
    sage brush dusted powder white
    sun is barely there

    i will break the rules
    my friend gave me permission
    to write from the heart

    HELP! someone stop me,
    I’m thinking in haiku form
    something’s wrong with me!

    OK, I woke up feeling silly, but it’s true…I keep thinking of haiku. counting syllables of lines of words, and when this dawned on me, I thought “this is crazy!”
    (QM, it’s your fault, you told me that later we could break rules…just kidding, but you can see the progression of the 3 haiku above, from the serious to the ridiculous.) Anyway, I am having fun with haiku.


  23. on January 19, 2008 at 2:06 pm QuoinMonkey

    freespirit, welcome. I’m delighted you have jumped right in. “Ice sliding on leaves” and “clouds rush by in sequenced steps” - great visual lines. I hope you keep writing with us. I find the practice cathartic, too.

    I stepped outside today in our yard to start the car (it’s -4 here today, -24 with the windchill) and there was haiku glowing all around me. 8)

    marylin, it’s so great that you’re having so much fun with these. I get silly with them, too. They are fun to write. And so grounding. Laughter is the best medicine. And to have laughter surface in haiku form - what better thing than that!

    The “sage brush dusted powder white” - ah, what a lovely western image. We don’t get the same kind of sage here. I miss it.


  24. on January 19, 2008 at 2:09 pm QuoinMonkey

    Marylin, I forgot one more thing I wanted to mention about your comment (#22) - the “thinking in haiku” that happens when we write that kind of poetry, that’s part of the structure of the practice. And a part I love.

    I find it very grounding. And comforting to know how few words we need to communicate the things that are important. Everything can be distilled down to its essence - it’s true nature.


  25. on January 20, 2008 at 3:55 pm mariacristina

    QM, thanks for this post. You have given me a great introduction to the writing of haiku, all right here!

    I love the idea of a haiku walk that opens up into writing. Sounds like an open space of serenity.

    The haiku you show by Matsuo Basho is amazing - so much is said beyond the images. I started thinking about the messages between the lines, how they can be more palpable then the words that are said. The chrysathamums that grow in the spaces, the space between the breath, it goes on and on.

    Thanks for this post! I’ll have to get into a haiku space more often.


  26. on January 20, 2008 at 7:24 pm TIV: the individual voice

    Thanks for this definition. I’ve been taking a stab at Haiku on my poetry blog. I’m not sure I’m exactly following the rules, but I am busily having fun. My sense is the “balance” element is about paradox or contradiction.


  27. on January 20, 2008 at 9:30 pm QuoinMonkey

    C, your comment has such a peacefulness to it. The haiku walk, yes, it seems to create a space inside to write, a place to let something come in, inspired by the ordinary. All the things between the spaces are so important. Yet many times invisible. We really have to pay attention to see them.

    For me, it’s so tempting to stay distracted (or frozen, one or the other) so that it becomes hard to see. I’m happy for any time I let myself practice and stay connected to what’s important to me. I hope you’ll post a haiku here once in a while. Would be lovely to see them.

    TIV, I’m glad you’re having fun with the haiku. I like how Clark Strand describes that “balance” piece:

    A haiku is a seventeen-syllable poem about the season. Arranged in three lines of five, seven, and five syllables, and balanced on a pause…

    I don’t know if it’s as much a contradiction as a nice little surprise that happens when we let the space open up. For me at least, it’s not so much a thinking thing as it is something I don’t even understand. The best ones come when I don’t think too much. I hope you’ll come back and share a few of your haiku with us.


  28. on January 21, 2008 at 6:16 pm freespirit

    Thanks QM, Ditto Marylin regarding the “silly” feeling and counting. I also agree with QM about feeling grounded. I have just discovered the haiku, and the best part so far for me is I can compose one on the spot, in a very short time during breaks outside. Gives me a peaceful feeling. It was very cold this morning at the beach and as I stood on the balcony looking across at the roofline of the adjacent building this one popped out in about two minutes.

    Orange hue glows soft
    Where the roof line meets firewall,
    Pre Sunrise Aura.

    Have fun everybody.


  29. on January 21, 2008 at 8:53 pm QuoinMonkey

    freespirit, nice. I can see the aura at the bend of the line. I just finished watching a Lewis Hine documentary and was thus influenced. And then, well, a short walk outside.

    puffs of child labor
    Lewis Hine photographs life
    no one wants to see

    ironman on steel beam
    wind surge, bolts of light freezing
    the Empire State’s skirt

    snow flies in the face
    of an innocent Flicker
    polka dot feather


  30. on January 21, 2008 at 9:24 pm breathepeace

    What a joy to return from my weekend trip to Durango, CO and find so many wonderful haiku poems posted here!

    over mountain pass–
    black ribbon of road unwinds
    through snowy canyon

    MEG
    expectations freeze
    health evaporates like frost–
    cold reality

    walls of dirty snow
    lining highway, scraped by plows
    over Wolf Creek Pass


  31. on January 22, 2008 at 2:08 pm winter haiku trilogy «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  32. on January 23, 2008 at 10:06 pm oliverowl aka marylin

    silver bird descends,

    sound of breaking frozen air

    incites sun dogs’ wrath!


  33. on January 24, 2008 at 4:39 am freespirit

    noses to the ground
    on the scent of recent game,
    hiking with my dogs.


  34. on January 24, 2008 at 8:49 am QuoinMonkey

    frost on a crow’s wing
    beating heart frozen in lungs
    water alchemy


  35. on January 24, 2008 at 10:20 am QuoinMonkey

    When I came back and read this again, I wanted to change water to winter. Hmmm.

    frost on a crow’s wing
    beating heart frozen in lungs
    winter alchemy


  36. on January 24, 2008 at 10:39 am QuoinMonkey

    oliverowl, there have been 2 Sundogs here in the last few weeks. Liz snapped a few phone pics of one day before yesterday. I had never seen one before (that I remembered or knew what I was looking at). Really cool.


  37. on January 24, 2008 at 10:39 am mariacristina

    I went on a haiku walk this Sunday. I was weary from the preceding week, and feeling blue. I wrote the first haiku after twenty minutes of walking along the sidewalk in my town, and the second after an hour along the same sidewalk:

    a distant sun pales
    her heart turns to ice again
    she walks searthing warmth

    snow crusts drought-burned grass
    cedar fingers graze thin clouds
    hope shines from the sky

    Thanks for this idea of creating space through a meditative or contemplative walk. Walking soothes the soul, for sure.


  38. on January 24, 2008 at 11:00 pm oliverowl aka marylin

    moon-wolf steals my sleep

    his light arresting my dreams

    cringe in fetal curl

    i need to hear them

    the voices of my children

    manna for my soul


  39. on January 24, 2008 at 11:08 pm oliverowl aka marylin

    The two haiku I just posted have no connection…at least i didn’t mean for them to. Maybe the fates put them together, knowing i am feeling very lonely.


  40. on January 25, 2008 at 5:09 pm freespirit

    mariachristina, your haikus spoke to me, very eloquent. Hi all, amazing writing, I am in the company of literary geniuses. :)

    as a cold wind blows
    brushwood waves gently wand like,
    a brisk winter day.


  41. on January 25, 2008 at 5:10 pm freespirit

    QM, I like the second one much better, excellent change in wording.. means so much more, IMHO


  42. on January 25, 2008 at 7:14 pm ybonesy

    Welcome, freespirit!

    Here’s one for today:

    faucets and noses
    drips pounding in woken dreams
    wet and cold and hard


  43. on January 25, 2008 at 8:30 pm QuoinMonkey

    C, I loved that you added the timing of the minutes into your walk when you wrote each haiku. That added a richness for me about the practice of walking and writing. Creating space. I noticed the futher along in the walk, how the focus shifts outside to the cedar and a hope that creeps in. I hope your blues have lightened since last week. Thank you for sharing. And to Clark Strand and Natalie, gratitude for passing down this practice.

    marylin, I like your two haiku together. And loneliness, the old Black Dog. I remember a write I did about it. Natalie talks about the Black Dog of loneliness in Bones. It reminded me of a series of art work a friend had worked on. Here’s the link to that post if you’re interested: Listen for the Black Dog (LINK).

    freespirit, I so enjoy when you stop by. It makes me smile. I like the brushwood, wand like. And now I want to know what brushwood is.

    yb, noses & facets, oh, feel better yb!


  44. on January 26, 2008 at 12:56 pm mariacristina

    QM, my blues lifted during the walk - you read the haiku the way I experienced it- as a lifting of my spirits.

    I’m enjoying everyone else’s poems as well. Some are very intimate, with small details close to home, others are expansive. Good for the soul kind of writing.

    I’ll be back tomorrow after my haiku walk. A nice Sunday haiku space might turn into a new winter tradition.


  45. on January 26, 2008 at 10:32 pm freespirit

    yb, clever use of metaphor, I liked that.

    Thanks QM, I am so glad you put together this blog. Everyones writing brings me peace, it’s as if I am there on their walks. If I may, allow me to quote from a book I am reading, “The only way we know it’s true is that we both dreamed it. That’s what reality is. It’s a dream everyone has together.” f/ Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides pg. 343

    shot like an arrow
    red fox bolts from a thicket
    all thats left, a streak.

    as a cold wind howls
    one lone leaf flips on its side,
    where is my warm mate?


  46. on January 27, 2008 at 12:17 pm QuoinMonkey

    freespirit, I like that definition of reality - a dream everyone has together. Community. Thank you for the quote. It looks like a totem has shown up in your haiku - the fox. I can feel the pause in the “streak.” Some friends of mine have recently spotted a fox near their pond. She brings them great joy. You don’t often see them in the daylight, as they are nocturnal hunters. They are such beautiful animals.


  47. on January 27, 2008 at 11:35 pm breathepeace

    in Noble Silence
    except loud crunching chorus:
    Buddhists eating nuts


  48. on January 28, 2008 at 9:52 am QuoinMonkey

    empty snow pocket
    coffee stokes the frosty morn
    counting, cedars breathe


  49. on January 28, 2008 at 11:25 am breathepeace

    cold winter morning
    half-moon shines in ink black sky–
    missing my children


  50. on January 29, 2008 at 5:40 am freespirit

    on the forest floor,
    lasered sunbeams through branches
    strike morning light pools


  51. on January 29, 2008 at 9:48 am QuoinMonkey

    icicle dangles
    42 to -4
    rivers turn to dams


  52. on January 29, 2008 at 2:28 pm QuoinMonkey

    Okay, I went outside over lunch and found out pretty quickly that I need to make a slight alteration on my haiku for today. Brrrrrr….those wind chills.

    friendly amendment
    -40 and dropping
    tear ducts turn to stone


  53. on January 30, 2008 at 12:18 pm QuoinMonkey

    engine slowly cranks
    glass fogs in snowflake patterns
    oil as thick as blood


  54. on January 30, 2008 at 3:38 pm ybonesy

    clouds drip toward the ground
    suffocating from here, inside
    the 5th floor window


  55. on January 31, 2008 at 12:34 pm QuoinMonkey

    steering wheel stiffens
    finch whistling, crooked oak branch
    ice scraper tongue curls


  56. on February 2, 2008 at 2:55 pm Vote For Punxsutawney Phil! «

    [...] to posts, haiku (one-a-day) and The Politics Of Primary Season 2008 (A Presidential [...]


  57. on February 4, 2008 at 12:35 pm breathepeace

    in Palm Springs airport
    black birds walk through terminal
    people wait to fly


  58. on February 4, 2008 at 12:45 pm ybonesy

    lunchtime murmur, “skin and bones”
    here at the OK corral
    three words float to me


  59. on February 4, 2008 at 1:41 pm Listening To Silence «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  60. on February 4, 2008 at 3:34 pm barbara

    This is a lovely blog find. For a long while I did a daily haiku/photo on my photoblog. Got away from that, but I think I may need to re-instate it. BTW I recognize a lot of company on your blogroll. Can I hang around a bit?

    nib dipped in black ink
    pen to paper scrawling words
    writers communing


  61. on February 5, 2008 at 8:25 pm QuoinMonkey

    barbara, welcome. Photos and haiku just seem to go together somehow. Good practice, too. Glad you see some friends on our blogroll. Please join us anytime.

    —————-

    wet snow, waffle sole
    traversing the parking lot
    on my way back home


  62. on February 6, 2008 at 8:15 am QuoinMonkey

    writing project looms
    Wednesday frost, a day of rest
    got to get to work


  63. on February 6, 2008 at 10:42 am new day haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  64. on February 7, 2008 at 6:09 am barbara

    Flamingos roosting
    midstream turn away from me
    photo resistant.

    See the fore-mentioned flamingos at
    http://gardengrow.wordpress.com/2008/02/07/finding-a-flurry-of-flamingoes/


  65. on February 7, 2008 at 11:41 am breathepeace

    another cold day–
    body craving warm spring sun
    to bring sad heart hope


  66. on February 7, 2008 at 12:25 pm QuoinMonkey

    cats roam the house wild
    I scrape the icy windshield
    spring runs in their blood


  67. on February 8, 2008 at 10:36 am Jessica

    What a lovely idea. Three rather different haiku from a walk in my local park today:

    Salt dries on my cheeks.
    Crystals I must brush away
    Memories of lost love

    Starving seagulls shriek
    Flailing white wings struggle. Why?
    Just a bit of bread.

    Neat red-scalloped feet
    Black water jewelled feathers
    Moorhens just paddle


  68. on February 8, 2008 at 2:06 pm QuoinMonkey

    Jessica, welcome - 3 wonderful haiku. Made me realize, too, I have no idea what a moorhen is (?).

    And I wanted to say to everyone how much I am enjoying all the haiku. It is a great mix of flowing poetry, a few comments here and there, old friends and new readers, popping in and out. Really lovely.

    —–

    flurries mid-morning
    bare branches bend in the wind
    blanket of stone gray


  69. on February 8, 2008 at 2:11 pm ybonesy

    remembering taos
    slow walking d h lawrence ranch
    q m by my side


  70. on February 9, 2008 at 11:05 am safety hides (blizzard haiku) «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  71. on February 9, 2008 at 11:40 am barbara

    Little one flits above
    swinging feeder filled with seed
    Junco in wind storm

    bo


  72. on February 9, 2008 at 1:11 pm breathepeace

    Wyoming — A Haiku Poem

    Wyoming wind sucks
    energy and life from me
    fueling its fury

    third day of high winds
    cold, bone-jarring, nerve rattling–
    why do I live here?

    antelope grazing,
    wide blue skies, open prairie:
    reasons to remain


  73. on February 9, 2008 at 3:54 pm oliverowl

    written after a drive from Powell, going west to Cody:

    clouds rest on mountain

    hanging a gossamer veil

    of angels’ tear drops


  74. on February 10, 2008 at 1:27 pm Quarter Oak Moon «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  75. on February 11, 2008 at 5:39 pm R3

    the darkness surrounds him
    shivering silently alone
    awaiting the warmth of knowledge


  76. on February 12, 2008 at 9:27 am QuoinMonkey

    R3, welcome to haiku land. 8) The one you wrote is kind of unsettled like the one I wrote last week. It makes me want to know more.

    More good haiku has appeared over the last week. I like the Wyoming trilogy, breathepeace. oliverowl, lovely. Isn’t driving one of the best places to write haiku? barbara, junco in windstorm - and the swinging feeder. How *do* they hang on?

    —————

    standing in a cloud
    following my tracks through snow
    to get to the car


  77. on February 13, 2008 at 9:51 am cattail haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  78. on February 14, 2008 at 9:15 am valentine haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  79. on February 14, 2008 at 11:06 pm oliverowl

    a marriage ended,

    but it never really was,

    we were pretending


  80. on February 16, 2008 at 2:17 pm circle haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  81. on February 16, 2008 at 7:15 pm 94stranger

    angle of the light
    inimitably winter
    against white houses


  82. on February 19, 2008 at 12:50 pm QuoinMonkey

    -8 rises
    the pit of winter’s belly
    white rings on the pond


  83. on February 20, 2008 at 7:54 pm raccoon haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  84. on February 21, 2008 at 8:38 am Jude Ford

    frigid cold, haiku
    struggles to take off, falls down,
    wings heavy with ice


  85. on February 23, 2008 at 1:16 am R3

    restless mind stains paper
    silent birds watch as thoughts explode
    I smile as words take flight


  86. on February 24, 2008 at 12:28 pm QuoinMonkey

    beautiful haiku, R3, Jude, stranger, oliverowl.

    —————-

    crow wraps the ash branch
    Pants cackles in the background
    hungry for more Spring


  87. on February 24, 2008 at 8:48 pm snow flying on ice (sound haiku) «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  88. on February 26, 2008 at 5:54 pm risk haiku «

    [...] -related to post, haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  89. on February 29, 2008 at 10:14 pm oliverowl

    a little haiku humor derived from leafing thru a House Beautiful magazine; coming across a page full of wall sconces:

    do not look askance

    at a sconce upon a wall

    that might make it fall


  90. on March 1, 2008 at 8:50 am QuoinMonkey

    oliverowl, that’s a fun haiku. It reminds me of the limericks I heard at the Victorian Poetry slam a few weeks ago. There is a whimsy about it that makes me smile. Fun!


  91. on March 1, 2008 at 3:25 pm moondog haiku «

    [...] to post, haiku (one-a-day) and WRITING TOPIC - [...]


  92. on March 1, 2008 at 11:17 pm oliverowl

    qm, I like your moondog haiku, as well as the great photo!

    from warm dunes of sand

    destiny laughed and moved me

    to cold drifts of snow


  93. on March 2, 2008 at 9:14 am alittlediddy

    On snow dusted pine
    crimson cardinals must wait
    bluejays do not share

    new day, no snow dust
    bluejays must wait their turn now
    the woodpecker rules


  94. on March 6, 2008 at 12:36 pm bones haiku «

    [...] to posts: haiku (one-a-day) and snow flying on ice (sound [...]


  95. on March 7, 2008 at 12:02 am Robert Morse

    I have been an admirer of Natalie’s work since 1988 and was lucky enough to attend her workshop in Minneapolis in 1992. I mainly write plays although I did write a short (29 pages) memoir about a friend who died in 2005. The CD version of “Old Friend from Far Away” was invaluable in getting me started. Does anyone know whether the book is the same as the CD version or has it been expanded?

    Anyway, here is a haiku from one of my early notebooks.

    A white saltshaker
    Beside its forever friend.
    Do they ever fight?


  96. on March 7, 2008 at 8:35 am QuoinMonkey

    Robert, welcome. And great haiku. The CD version of Old Friend from Far Away is completely different. My understanding of the new book is that it is as close a sequel to Writing Down the Bones as you can get. I think the title is rooted in Zen and somehow relates the CD and book, but they are not the same.

    Here is something Natalie recently said about her new book, Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir (LINK):

    It’s the true sequel to Writing Down the Bones and it’s the closest of my books to experiencing what it is like to be in a class with me.

    The book is so much like her teaching. If you buy it, please come back and share with us. Hope you visit red Ravine again. And keep the pen moving!


  97. on March 7, 2008 at 9:49 pm Robert Morse

    To QuoinMonkey,

    Thanks for the info. I will be purchasing the book shortly and will continue to look in on this site.

    “Writing Down the Bones” as it was for so many others, was my introduction to Natalie’s work. It is simply the best book on and about writing I know.


  98. on March 8, 2008 at 8:15 pm Midtown haiku «

    [...]           -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  99. on March 9, 2008 at 1:39 am Robert Morse

    My walker and I,
    Busy creeping and creaking,
    Both need a lube job.


  100. on March 9, 2008 at 6:37 pm QuoinMonkey

    Robert, your haiku have a playful quality to them. Thanks for joining us.

    ——————

    spots of flaky snow
    cats curl around the heater
    shedding winter coats


  101. on March 9, 2008 at 9:10 pm time haiku «

    [...] -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  102. on March 11, 2008 at 8:18 pm oliverowl

    spiders in the sky

    weaving webs of fleecy white

    will they catch rainbows?


  103. on March 12, 2008 at 2:40 pm breathepeace

    tulip leaves poke up
    from dirt in winter garden
    testing for spring air


  104. on March 12, 2008 at 10:38 pm gratitude haiku (orange) «

    [...] -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  105. on March 13, 2008 at 8:10 am freespirit

    sunset’s rays approach

    past bare spindly branches, as

    pre-spring buds await

    Hi Bones and QM, :)


  106. on March 13, 2008 at 8:46 am QuoinMonkey

    freespirit, you’re back! So great to see your haiku again. I bet it’s quite spring-like in your neck of the woods. The season comes so much earlier there. Very lush. And the smells - the sweet smell of Spring. Makes me want to breathe a little deeper. 8)


  107. on March 13, 2008 at 8:52 am QuoinMonkey

    oliverowl & breathepeace, I like when, by chance, your haikus follow one another’s. I imagine you both looking out on the mountains out West (oh, how I miss the mountains!).

    diddy, I like your diptych of haikus and the journey of the blue jay through each of them. I can picture the view from your kitchen window.


  108. on March 13, 2008 at 9:39 am Linda Lupowitz

    morning mother wakes
    thin light cracking through the blinds
    babe now deeply sleeps


  109. on March 13, 2008 at 2:20 pm QuoinMonkey

    nice, Linda. I just took a walk on my break. It is so beautiful outside. I’ve got Spring fever.
    _______________________

    north wind through my hair
    slow walking the parking lot
    crow grazes the moon


  110. on March 14, 2008 at 9:42 pm snake awake haiku «

    [...] to posts: haiku (one-a-day), Meet [...]


  111. on March 17, 2008 at 12:34 am Robert Morse

    Craving the Last Laugh,
    An empty, foolish vigil
    For Victory’s dregs.

    This one-a-day busines is tough. Would you believe one a week?


  112. on March 17, 2008 at 11:58 am breathepeace

    snowy Palm Sunday–
    winter drags its sorry ass
    right on into spring

    Yes, one a day is a challenge…and led to this entry for Wednesday, March 12:

    one haiku a day:
    seventy-two completed
    most of them are sh*t

    Oh, but some days there is a freshness to the words and that “ahhh” pause is there that seems to live in a good haiku. Writing one a day helps create the space for the “ahhh” to arrive.


  113. on March 17, 2008 at 1:32 pm Robert Morse

    As soon as I got off the computer last night, I came up with what might be a better haiku on the subject I was struggling with during entry # 111. I wrote it down on what was available, an unused book marker. I qualified the “better” because it’s not necessarily up to me. But I do hope that this version does a “better” job of creating the space/leap between the second and third line which Natalie writes about.

    A dubious goal:
    Always getting the Last Laugh
    That’s God’s department.


  114. on March 17, 2008 at 2:20 pm ybonesy

    I’m inspired by your stick-to-it-iveness on writing one a day (or even one a week). These are great haikus. I do hear or see the ahh pause in them.

    I sit and eat runts
    a habit learned from children
    rotting adult teeth


  115. on March 17, 2008 at 2:42 pm breathepeace

    #113 — Yes! the leap is there.


  116. on March 17, 2008 at 5:10 pm alittlediddy

    Spring arrives early
    Songbirds awaken my sleep
    music for the mind


  117. on March 18, 2008 at 8:53 am breathepeace

    light snow blankets ground
    on gray March prairie morning–
    gone by afternoon


  118. on March 18, 2008 at 8:57 am oliverowl

    March moon is the crows’,

    crows rose out of the corn field

    Vincent left this life


  119. on March 18, 2008 at 9:02 am breathepeace

    listen! spring birds sing
    survival songs in nature:
    Chinese Tibetans


  120. on March 18, 2008 at 11:02 pm freedom haiku «

    [...] -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  121. on March 19, 2008 at 9:09 am QuoinMonkey

    Some great haiku here. Love the back and forth with breathepeace, Robert, oliverowl, diddy. Steady as she goes.

    Minnesota can’t decide if it’s spring or winter. She’s making up her mind.

    _________________

    soles sliding across
    spring’s underbelly - frozen
    mud hard as a rock


  122. on March 19, 2008 at 10:13 am breathepeace

    plastic shopping bag
    waves from a cottonwood branch:
    urban foliage


  123. on March 19, 2008 at 10:26 am 94stranger

    mysteriously
    five, seven and five again,
    draws us back and back


  124. on March 19, 2008 at 12:38 pm QuoinMonkey

    breathepeace, nice! the urban foliage got me.

    stranger, are you blogging again? did I miss something?


  125. on March 19, 2008 at 6:06 pm 94stranger

    going was coming
    for the ancient ones, QM,
    I am back -
    to front

    (Is this a haiku?)


  126. on March 19, 2008 at 6:30 pm breathepeace

    “is this a haiku?”
    WOW, yes! 94stranger–
    a very good one


  127. on March 19, 2008 at 8:40 pm ybonesy

    hi, haiku stranger
    it’s been a long winter
    sad to see it go


  128. on March 20, 2008 at 8:49 am QuoinMonkey

    glad to have you back
    the ancient ones are smiling
    stranger’s among friends


  129. on March 20, 2008 at 10:24 am equinox haiku «

    [...] -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day) [...]


  130. on March 20, 2008 at 4:33 pm alittlediddy

    Winter says good-bye
    with final breath ,”Welcome Spring”
    Earth’s belly explodes


  131. on March 21, 2008 at 8:57 am oliverowl

    what is a cliche?
    lazy communication
    dive in deep word-pool


  132. on March 21, 2008 at 9:10 am big spider haiku «

    [...] to posts: haiku (one-a-day), WRITING TOPIC - INSECTS & SPIDERS & BUGS, OH [...]


  133. on March 21, 2008 at 1:03 pm QuoinMonkey

    You know what’s cool about all these haiku? You can see and feel the seasons change when you follow the thread. It’s great.

    It’s still snowing here. Unbelievably beautiful outside. I can’t wait to go for a walk. My camera battery is charging.

    ______________

    2nd day of spring
    the world is covered in white
    velvet underground


  134. on March 21, 2008 at 6:18 pm breathepeace

    Good Friday full moon:
    bright light shines on dark soul night
    illuminates hope


  135. on March 21, 2008 at 7:35 pm 94stranger

    in bitter north wind
    sun-starved trees and people try
    remembering spring


  136. on March 21, 2008 at 7:42 pm 94stranger

    Do we have some past-life Japanese among us? This is strangely addictive.

    P.S. Does anyone know if there is something archetypal about 5-7-5 - or is it purely a convention that we now all adhere to?

    P.P.S. I like it because it’s SHORT - suits my attention span -writing and reading, both.

    as for brevity -
    inimitable virtue,
    longing for shorting


  137. on March 21, 2008 at 9:19 pm alittlediddy

    Snow in the forecast
    robin snow is our Spring snow
    no need for concern

    94stranger, I came upon several Haiku in my Whole Whog Catalog ( a humorous attempt at the” Whole Earth Catalog” which was quite popular in the the late 60’s & early 70’s) though not in season, here is on