Learning to Trust Haiku, August 2010
Learning to Trust Haiku (Part 2)
By Jerry Bolick
Introduction:
For the last year or so, I have volunteered as a literacy tutor for English speaking adults, men and women who want to develop or improve their reading and writing skills. This of course involves working with individuals; but I have also had the good fortune to work with a small women’s group, made up of residents of a local drug and alcohol rehabilitation program. Meeting at their “house” once a week, our sessions easily organized around poetry. But the women moved rather quickly from reading and writing about the poems of others, to wanting to write their own. In this essay, I hope to share some of the excitement and richness that has come of that most simple desire, to make poems. (Here is Part 2. Part 1 appeared in the January 2010 issue: @Volume8 Issue 1)
Part 2
For Sandy, writing haiku is “relaxation and fun…a release from stress and everyday grind.” Kizzie too speaks of the “fun” of haiku, as well as the excitement. She discovered herself “listening to every word that comes out of a person’s mouth and try to make a haiku,” something that resonates with Sandy’s appreciation, when she says that haiku “can be about everyday things.” She likes that “even the single movement of a leaf or a sound of a bird can become a poem. A color can bring on a poem.” And equally important, as Helyna writes, haiku enables one to “express the exact way something makes you feel.
That little old bird
peck at the big red cherry tree
and had so much fun
Annie
Lay down you sick child
Roll over your lazy dog
Come up you bright burning sun.
Kizzie
Oh I am so bored
need something to do.
I guess I will do haiku.
Kristy
The smell of bacon
feint voices in the distance
camping in Autumn
Sandy
From the perspective of literacy, the value of this kind of enthusiasm is undeniable and has compounded itself over and again in these succeeding months. Literacy is about becoming closer to one’s use of language and gaining confidence in one’s ability to use it better. The women have moved forward with their own haiku, have read many, many poems, explored and discussed them, responded to each other’s work and are now, some of them, exploring other poetic forms. This has been truly astonishing for me and gratifying, not because of what I have done for the women, but because of what they have done for me. Because of their readiness and willingness, I have been able to witness the working of poetry, specifically haiku, in their lives. As important as literacy is, it is but the tip of the iceberg, a small piece of the deeper human development taking place.
Whatever it is
we can do this let’s do this
so we can all shine
Annie
Any doubts one might have, any equivocation about saying that haiku practice can impact the world in a positive, peace-enhancing way, might readily be resolved by how the women themselves speak of their experience. None of them have ever read a scholarly or critical paper on haiku. But they have all embraced the experience of haiku, have made the effort to slow down, have given themselves to the discipline of syllable count, or breath, and have whole heartedly engaged the writing and consideration of this poetic form.
Tina came away “amazed” at her own creativity; Kizzie began to feel “like an artist.” Sandy expressed gratitude for having come in contact with “this ancient love of words and nature.”
Lonely shadows dance
Holding on till tomorrow
waiting to be found
Sandy
Chair against the wall
Four legs on it, black ones
Empty as can be
Kizzie
I wake, smell roses
Another day clean Sister—
esteem positive
Tina
In our conversations, the women have spoken to me of a renewed sense of “dignity” that comes from the pride they feel in being artists, in having “accomplished something” that others can share in and appreciate. And I have observed that they also recognize in their work with the poetic process, a reflection of its inner working within themselves. Every one of them has said that the process has given rise to self-reflection, “soul searching” or contemplation and they have all experienced a sense of what they have called the “divine” or the “spiritual.”
If I could change me
would I be able to find
a better answer
Helyna
Looking for a way
Finding things on accident
Hoping all turns out
Sandy
My fear is so real
that I will not ever feel what
what is true or not.
Christie
All of this unequivocally suggests to me that through sustained engagement with haiku, the women are not only more in touch with their lives in language, but more authentically in touch with themselves and how they are in the world at large. If a single stroke of a butterfly’s wing can alter the rhythms of the universe, then the deepening of the currents of the human heart and mind cannot be insignificant.
And in the end, as always, we have the poems and what the poems have to tell us--that is, the more of haiku:
Sonia
Stepp’n out of clouds,
uplifting beautiful life
I can feel strength
Pushing through the dirt,
finding my way thru the dark
looking for the light.
children are special
missing the growth of it all
where do I start from.
Procrastinator
letting time slip thru fingers
nowhere to run
Pretty butterflies
waiting patiently to fly
soaring in the wind.
Don’t steal anymore time.
Precious little purse, hold tight
it might just slip away
Broken hearts, a round
diamond in the ruff, stronger
mending broken dreams.
On train with no love
mind full of hatred, alone
thinking of a plan
Thunder is roaring
lightening is flashing, eyes burn
sun peeping thru clouds.
Remember that kiss
I yearn for just one more time
lost all memories
Alley cat awaits
starving for some attention
looks for love anywhere
I’m feeling different
don’t want to listen
shutting down
Tina
I am sad Father
Oh why, why am I sad
No one knows my pain
Not familiar now
Scared of what may come today
life on life’s terms—wind
To live is grateful
One more day is a blessing
God’s blessing Amen
Sometimes I cry loud
My heart thumps in body
Recognize blessings
I’ m tired of rules
Outside no rules to follow
Is it right or wrong?
Sometimes I feel like
a motherless child, searching
for a love withheld
Christie
Birds fly by in the
sky so blue and clear—dark clouds
fill with rain at night.
Deep in sleep I dream
In the dark so scared to wake
My eyes stayed shut tight
My love for you is
true and deep like the deep sea
never will my love stop
I hear birds chirp now
and they fly high in the sky
all day long…
By night I sleep deep.
But when I do I get scared
of the dreams I have.
The sun is bright in…
in the sky so high it is…
it is hard for me.
I miss my man and
I hope to be with him
After I am done with me.
She thinks she knows it.
And thinks she is right and she’s
said it hurts my heart.
They make me feel like
I am not as smart
They treat me unfair
No noise. I feel my heart
beat in my chest hard,
but not a sound.
No noise outside to hear
but I can see a bird
on the fence, blue bird.
Love should be warm not
cold but if you hurt me
I will not cry