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