Mass ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #221
Morose Monolith
Sullen mass of stone,
hosting only black lichen?
Seeds and spores found cracks.
Widower’s Song #4: This Urn
It held her ashes,
waiting until daffodils
came for them in spring.
Then it held one last bouquet
of her favorite flowers.
Shoreline ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #220
Is the sea at Capri’s shoreline still as clear now as it was when I was there in 1977? I hope so.
While we’re on the subject of clarity, let’s note that it is not clear whether the eponymous goats really did live on ancient Capri. But it is clear that the island sited precursors of Mar-a-Lago for Imperial Rome’s fat tyrants.
From the outside, the Blue Grotto (Tiberius’ private pool) looks much like the (other?) grotto in my photo. The view from inside is entirely different.
A cave entrance right at the shoreline can sometimes work magic.
Blue Grotto (Capri) [edited image]
Capri Shoreline, Long Ago
Goats traverse cliffs while
pink whale swims in blue grotto.
Naked emperor.
© Patrick Jennings | Dig ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #219
Low Tide at Seaside Creek Beach
To dig for clams is why
we are here, beneath this sky.
No clams? No problem!
The first is for anybody who noticed that changing the haiku’s initial line
To dig for clams … ⇒ Clam digging …
would make the haiku comply with the 5-7-5 rule. The second is for anybody who noticed that the version of the initial line with 6 syllables has a better rhythm. The actual editing change was from 5 syllables to 6. Does that seem like an odd direction to move?
The outside story says that a haiku “is” a 3-line poem in blank verse with syllable counts 5, 7, and 5. While this story is oversimplified, it is still a good place to start. (Some haiku poets disagree.) The inside story is more complex. Various poets bend or break various rules at various times for various (and often good) reasons. Tho messier, the inside story is ultimately the better one. Just ask the clam digger who went home with an empty bucket but a full heart.
Carpe Diem #1805 Introducing our new Theme … Love month
The lightly edited screenshot ending this post links to a performance by the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra. They love this music, and it shows. Near the end of the last movement, they even dance. When was the last time U saw classical musicians dance while performing?
No Trolls Here
Free from penguin suits
and long gowns that wipe the floor,
love and skill combine.
They rescue Grieg’s Holberg Suite
from bland transits thru the notes.
Carpe Diem #1781 The Quest For A New Masterpiece Continues … colorful autumn
Between Seasons #1
Lost autumn colors,
but garden flag remembers.
Snow on power lines.
The rules and examples for this challenge allow marking the cut with punctuation and tweaking the cut when swapping the initial and final lines. Let’s do that.
Between Seasons #2
Snow on power lines.
But garden flag remembers
lost autumn colors.
Fall Frolic #1
Dancing on the breeze,
ignorant of gravity:
red leaf in blue sky.
My haiku has “#1” in its title to distinguish it from a similar haiku Fall Frolic #2. I prefer #1. Why bother with #2 at all? The answer to that question helps answer some others.
Fall Frolic #1 implicitly poses a riddle, then provides the answer. Who is the ignorant dancer? More subtly, why is (s)he said to be dancing “on” (not “in” or “with”) the breeze? The basic structure is the same as in Jane Reichold’s classic
Haiku © Jane Reichold superimposed on
Photo © Vladlena Azima | ShutterStock
Now consider swapping the initial and final lines of my riddle haiku:
Fall Frolic #2
Red leaf in blue sky,
ignorant of gravity:
dancing on the breeze.
While #2 describes the same scene #1, it lacks the suspense and resolution of the riddle structure. While both versions work, #1 works better. I still owe U an explanation: why bother with #2 at all?
The first draft for what eventually became #1 had initial and final lines that were very close to the corresponding lines in #2. The middle line had an entirely different way of hinting that the leaf’s freedom is a temporary illusion, between being stuck on the tree and stuck on the ground. The first draft’s hint would have been too obscure w/o either an appropriate picture or the explicit scene setting done by the initial line in #2.
Already unhappy with the first draft’s middle line, I swapped initial and final lines on a whim. The resulting riddle structure was motivation to get serious about clarifying the middle line.
Some haiku poets strive to have the initial and final lines be interchangeable. Unless I am responding to a challenge calling for haiku that work just as well when the initial and final lines are swapped, I usually do not consider swapping. Too gimmicky and arcane. But a swap while revising might help answer the eternal writers’ questions
Am I saying what I want to say?
Am I saying it clearly?
