Red peppers are red.
Red cabbage is purple but
is said to be red.
Choose a haiku, tanka or other form of Japanese poetry from your archive and share it with us all. Tell us why you have chosen that poem … and create a new poem inspired on your choice.
A short sequence of 3-5-3 haiku dealt with emptiness for a challenge in another series. I like the way the first haiku sets up the second one, so the whole sequence is my archive choice. Can I write a new poem for the current challenge? Yes, and there is a reason to put it before the archive choice. The new poem is a 5-7-5 haiku:
I give to several charities that help hungry people in many places with a mix of short-term and long-term efforts. In particular, my next gift to CARE will be matched 5X. The matching grant offer on CARE.org/match will expire 2019-05-25. (A popup on CARE.org has another match that expires sooner, on 04-30.) If U can give more than whatever U may have already given to charities like CARE this year, now is a good time.
The cloud images in this post were in an earlier post (for a photography challenge) that emphasized synergy between pastel pink and green. Now I am responding to a haiku challenge with emphasis on synergy between poem and image in a modern haiga (with a photo as the image). Haiku #2 uses the modern kigo abalone.
To those who have not seen many nacreous clouds, the poems’ metaphors might seem far-fetched. Presenting the photos along with the poems they inspired may reassure readers willing to trust that the photographers refrained from deceptive editing. I took the calm photo; Sue Ranscht took the dramatic one.
[2019-03-22] Bummer. I want to photograph the inspiration for my haiku, but my old hands cannot go more than a few seconds w/o thick gloves in cold weather.
Hmmm. Tho unheated, my garage gets some warmth leaking from the furnace. I put on a pair of thin gloves that can be worn while doing some things that previously required bare hands. I open the garage door and look outside while standing just inside the garage. Maybe I can work enough of the camera’s buttons while wearing the thin gloves.
The lens zooms too quickly for fine control. I cannot move forward or backward to compensate for zooming too far out or in. Oh well, I can crop the image later to compensate for zooming too far out. Is there a serviceable view in some direction from where I can stand w/o getting too cold? Hmmm. I try five views and go with the last one.
While it does illustrate my haiku, my photo is admittedly not of standalone quality. I can live with that. Any partial workaround for growing old is a small triumph to savor.
While haiku usually have 3 lines, some haiku do have just 2 lines. For example, Santoka Taneda (1882-1940) wrote a number of 2-line haiku.
After writing my first 2-line haiku, I reworked it to be a 3-line haiku that I preferred. I posted both and found that a few readers preferred the original 2-line version.
The haiku in this post is my second 2-line haiku, reworked from one with 3 lines. It is probably safe to say that it will stay at 2 lines, but don’t place a heavy bet.
Tweaking a wistful response to an earlier challenge in a different series yields a response to
that defers to Canada’s retention of British spelling. (One of the tweaks was to replace color by colour.) Being deferential does not suit me, so I revert to US spelling in some new mischief at the end.
When colour computer displays came in, I was jolted to see that a yellowish green and an orangish red were now “primary” for RGB coordinates of coloured pixels. I also had to use CMYK coordinates for coloured inks and pray to the graphics gods that printing software would translate from RGB to CMYK in a way that respected how something looked. My prayers were seldom answered. Eventually, I learned to put away childish things (like hard copy).
Before Colours Went RGB
Red, yellow, and blue
were “primary” when kids
smeared paint on paper.
I am all too aware of several ways that Canada is more sensible than the USA. I used one of the less important ones to balance a little mischief about one small way the USA is more sensible:
Color in 6 Letters
Some folks spell it with a U.
On my honor, they sure do.
Hour and sour I can buy;
misspelled humor makes me cry.
You stayed loyal to the Crown?
Gotta press that U key down!
I’m a proud Yank but confess
that our anthem is a mess,
sung as if we never heard:
yeh-et really ain’t a word.
Riding the spring wind,
hawks with still wings and shrill cries
A lot happens in the sky.
Hawks stake claims.
Clouds sometimes imitate clams.
As Susie left home to start a new life with Dale, her mother watched and wondered. Would the mixed marriage work?
Aware that sharing her worries would be unwelcome and unheeded, Mama let her words of warning remain unspoken and unheard.
Wisely, Mama kept silent despite having words to say. Unwisely, some people run afoul of Wittgenstein’s Laws by breaking silence despite not having any sensible words to say.
No, this cow did not lose an argument with a bucket of white paint. Belted Galway cattle are bright white in the middle, with either brown or black fore and aft. The white is usually in a neat band, much like the rust-colored band on a woolly bear caterpillar. Maybe this cow’s sloppy band comes from too much time in a certain pub.
What the World Needs
More silliness from
those who know they are silly;
less from the others.
calls for Japanese-style poetry inspired by an excerpt from Plato. (An excerpt from the excerpt appears below.) Yet again, classical literature says something complex and important, while leaving much for later generations to discover and say. For now, I will shut up after 2 haiku.
“… the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life.”
“… when the passions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many.”
“… for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden.”
“… I rather suspect that people … think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter.”
Waves wash things ashore:
bouyant trash from far away,
driftwood, and sea weed.
Synchronize your breath
with the ebb and flow of waves.
Feel the ocean’s pulse.
Contemplate them all:
driftwood, sea weed, even trash.
Insights ride the waves.
Let’s start by summarizing the older surprises that I posted in response to a CDHK episode. Credits for the images below are at the end of this post for readability.
The first surprise was that that so much motion could fit in a haiku:
A shell exploded!
Water slowly filled the hole
and held the whole sky.
Of course, my haiku that is like a movie was inspired by this classic World War I haiku that is like a still photo:
© Maurice Betz
A shell hole
In its water
Held the whole sky.
The second surprise was that I did not have a stable preference between these haiku. Like someone viewing the classic ambiguous image that can be seen as a duck facing one way or as a rabbit facing the other, I flip-flopped between the still photo by Betz and the movie by me. So did at least 2 readers of my old post.
Here is the new third surprise. After writing yet another shell hole haiku, I finally have a stable preference. My preferred haiku is like a movie that starts after the explosion:
Water slowly filled
the shell blast’s muddy crater.
It held the whole sky.
Unable to find appropriate and affordable period images, I used contemporary images: a generic explosion and a puddle that looks much like the water-filled shell hole. The puddle photo has been cropped to be more nearly square.
This post ends with 2 haiku, each inspired by a photo of clouds imitating clams. I took the calm photo; Sue Ranscht took the dramatic one.
Tho I usually prefer deeply saturated colors, I love the pastel pink and green sometimes seen in a cloud, when the angles are just right in the triangle formed by the cloud and the sun and the viewer. At my latitude, it is a rare sight. I have had just one chance to photograph the elusive synergy of pastel pink and green:
[mother-of-pearl clouds] or [nacreous clouds].
There is also the marvel by Sue Ranscht that appears below. Fair warning: the image credit links to a post in a series, with a striking image for each episode in a fantasy epic. The series is so addictive that it hooked me despite my aversion to fantasies and impatience with epics.