Beyond 5/7/5: The Liberation of Haiku
The word “haiku” might elicit a reaction of “yuck” if your only experience with the form was a grade school poetry unit. Often such assignments focus largely on the syllabic structure. We are taught that a haiku has three lines total: the first and third lines have five syllables each and the second line has seven syllables for a total of 17 syllables. With that simple instruction, 5/7/5, students are let loose.
Let’s liberate the haiku from this erroneous restraint. The reliance on syllabic form distorts the original Japanese genre which includes 17 sound symbols (on or morae), which are different from English syllables. The haiku appeared in a single vertical line. The number of syllables in your poem can vary and still qualify as a haiku. Better to use fewer syllables than to force a word in awkwardly to achieve 5/7/5. Instead of 5/7/5, think s/l/s (short/long/short).
A world of dew,
And within every dewdrop
A world of struggle.
—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)
Beyond the syllable debate, haiku are more about capturing a moment and creating an emotional impression. Traditionally, a haiku centers on something observed in nature, and includes a seasonal word (kigo) to establish a specific time of year and an emotional response or insight of how the writer/narrator is affected. The first line establishes an image and is usually a fragment, as opposed to a complete sentence. Lines two and three juxtapose the first line with either a contrasting image or a complimentary image in order to elicit a similar emotional or insightful response in the reader. We shift from nature, to human nature, or vice versa. Create that emotional reaction in the reader by illustrating what caused your emotion, rather than telling or explaining the feeling to your audience. Invite your reader to experience what you experienced in that moment.
The light of a candle
Is transferred to another candle—
Spring twilight
—Yosa Buson (1716-1784)
I use the word “image,” but the subject can stem from any of your senses: a smell, a sound, a sensation, a taste. Avoid adding a third image because the form is just too short and “more” will make it clunky and usurp the natural shift between the two halves. This switch or caesura in the poem is called kire in Japanese and creates a spark—of energy, of realization, of inspiration. The form is in the present tense to capture the moment.
Haiku usually don’t have titles, rhymes, similes, or metaphors. Purists insist that the word haiku is singular and plural; but some dictionaries list “haikus” as an alternative. Within such a concise form, word choice is important. Use common words that sound natural. You may be a sesquipedalian, but this is not the form to flaunt that. The words should be objective to allow the reader to draw their own conclusions. Be direct. Finding the exact “right” word is a challenge, one that makes writing haiku exciting and an excellent exercise to become a stronger writer. I find these restrictions liberating and that’s why I love to read and write haiku.
Over time the genre has evolved, enabling haiku to assume new forms. Jack Kerouac explored the short form and the posthumously published Book of Haikus (2003) reads like a journal expressed in mini poems.
Bee, why are you
staring at me?
I’m not a flower!
—Jack Kerouac, Book of Haikus
The form can shrink down to one-line, as a monoku. Monoku has only one image, but demands more time from the reader to contemplate and absorb the nuances of the image. Alan Summers, poet and president of the United Haiku and Tanka Society, says the invisible text counts as much as the visible text. Sometimes words that are both noun and verb lead to multiple interpretations. Or the verb is dropped completely. A monoku transpires in one breath and changes meaning when read in different ways.
mallards leaving in the water rippled sky
—Penny Harter, The Monkey's Face
Monoku can be sly, impersonating concrete poems, by playing with word arrangement.
Tryingtomakeheadortailofanearthworm
—Rafal Zabratynski, 16th International Kusamakura Haiku Competition
Haiku can appear in a cycle, with each three-line haiku serving as a sort of stanza in a longer piece. A master of this exciting departure in form is Sonia Sanchez. Her collection Morning Haiku (2010) celebrates African American musicians, artists, writers, and activists. Here is one section of her haiku cycle dedicated to jazz drummer Max Roach:
2.
your sounds exploding
in the universe return
to earth in prayer
—Sonia Sanchez, Morning Haiku
My haiku series “COVIDku” (yes, I titled it) that appeared in “What Rough Beast” charted my emotional response to COVID in 2020. Here is where it begins:
I
Nature is pissed off!
We failed to honor the earth.
Now we pay the price.
And it ends more traditionally, with a definite switch, nature image, and season word:
IV
Inside—fear, outside
robins nesting in the spruce
remind me—it’s spring.
Follow your senses and play around with your structure, syllable count, and lexicon. Haiku is a way of capturing a moment or insight, simply and concisely. Next time a sunset evokes an emotional response, try sharing the sensation in a haiku. Liberating the form liberates the writer.
For further reading and purchase:
Anthologies of haiku available at Masterpieces of Japanese Culture
Book of Haikus by Jack Kerouac, Edited by Regina Weinreich
Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez
