It is with great humility that I attempt haiku. I suspect I’m only scratching the surface. Just barely.
When I consider the old masters, there seems to be so much more to it than just 5/7/5. For one thing, the lettering and drawings were part of the art of haiku. That pretty much eliminates me. My fine motor skills being what they are eliminated brain surgeon and artist from my career choices long ago.
Then there is the way the old masters looked at the world. They came from such a different culture, steeped in Zen. Like I said in an earlier post, I’m not sure I actually “get” haiku.
But then, from time to time, I catch that glimpse of beauty and truth, and I’m back in. Just when I think I’m committing fraud trying to compose haiku, I read something by Issa and I am reminded of this: He was just a human being. I’m just a human being. We’ve got a lot more in common than is apparent on the surface.
So, with that disclaimer, here are a few meager offerings:
Spring Haiku
Great day to walk, dog.
You poop, I’ll write some verse.
We’ll both be happy.
Old dog so blind and deaf
We’ll never finish our walk …
Sniffs every tree!
Plum trees bloomed early
For us old dog. I don’t mind
If we walk all day.
Pink trees everywhere,
So perfect, what could go wrong?
Uh oh … wait … a-choo!
Poetic Champions 