Responses

Responses 

In the final lesson (lesson 6) of Write Like Issa, David Lanoue invites us to respond 'in kind' to specific haiku by Issa – answering them with our own, either in imitation or contrast. This is an honourable haiku tradition; Issa himself responded so to some of Basho's haiku. Below, Issa's originals are in italics. My responses are drawn also from my own lived experience.

the child hugs 

her cloth monkey . . . 

hailstorm

summer storm –

crouching

with my cat

*********

without you— 

this grove 

is just a grove

(1)

noisy bats gone –

the grove is again 

peaceful

(2)

meditation complete –

sudden kookaburras

laugh in the grove

*********

spring rain— 

in my lover’s sleeve 

coins jingle

spring rain –

my wallet

empty

*********

into morning glories

with one shoulder bare….

holy man

walked past unseeing 

weeds by the road –

morning glories

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Leaps

 Leaps

September wind —

as Spring begins, so many
deaths to remember

*********

red berries —

I was walking

my children

********

  strong wind

  a banging door –

  the anniversary of his death

*********

cleaning out

the cupboards —

I miss you

*********

green tree snake

slithers through my plants

keeping low

*********

Equinox ritual 

cancelled by lockdown —

full moon rises 

 

 

Lesson 5 in David Lanoue's Write Like Issa is about going deeper, by means of 'the surprising "leaps" from image to image' which American poet Robert Bly sees as 'a core quality of powerful poetry.' Lanoue adds that 'Bly's concept of leaping derives from the subjective experience of juxtaposition' and that such juxtaposition is 'without doubt a key tool in Issa's poetic toolbox.' He suggests that such leaps are required of the reader's imagination too. 

(One of these, the second, was a memory rather than a present experience – but one that happened across me in the present, triggered by a particular image I saw.)

Insights

 

Insights

cold days

we sleep long —

old cat and me

*********

pet cat waits

in a patch of sun, trusting

breakfast will happen

 

 

 

*********

I remember

my nasty stepmother —

dead 23 years

*********

lentil soup —

memories

of childhood

 

 

 

 

*********

strange Christian men

(avowedly)

stalk my facebook smile

Once more, apologies if you've seen these already on social media. This time you get context as well, with a clue as to what I thought I was doing (grin).

In Write Like Issa, Lesson 4, 'Bold Subjectivity', David Lanoue reminds us: 'The private, in art, becomes public. Dare to write highly personal poetry of which some readers will say, with gratitude in their hearts for seeing it on the page with stark clarity, "Hey, that's my story!" '  (Whether I have succeeded in that is up to my readers!)

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Moments

 Moments

(Micropoems)

earrings and lipstick

in solitary lockdown –

for my own delight

*********

rushing wind 

blows harder – relieving

the days’ sameness

*********

after poohing

little cat runs up and down 

celebrating

*********

no, yowling kitty,

I can’t stop your tummy-ache —

pooh for yourself

*********

she leaps lightly

to the highest shelf —

guardian cat

Apologies if you've already seen these individually on Instagram and/or facebook. Here is their context:

Lesson 3 in Write Like Issa by David Lanoue is about comic haiku, the humour residing in down-to-earth images which might not usually be considered fit subjects for poetry, such as bodily functions.  He says , 'A successful comic haiku in the style of Issa should provoke, in a breath, both laughter and thought.' 

The above, written while I was reading this chapter, were responses to whatever was happening in the moment. Though hopefully earthy and unpretentious, they aren't particularly funny – some not at all. However, the examples Lanoue cites are of gentle humour rather than side-splitting. He further says that such haiku reveal 'ironies and absurdities in ordinary life', so perhaps in that way I come close.

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Glimpses

Glimpses 

(Micropoems)

where did she go?

oh – a cat-shaped lump

under the rug 

 

*********

   

you look pretty

she says, to the half-face

above my mask 

*********

in the story

her husband dies —

I cry and cry

*********

close confidante once

she fobs me off for years –

at last I unfriend

*********

rainy day –

no butterflies, did they

stay in bed?

The second lesson from David Lanoue's book, Write Like Issa, is about viewing the world in a direct, child-like way: 'Reflect on a past or present experience without your adult blinders.... Don't be afraid if your haiku doesn't sound fancy or important—for this is actually a good thing.' For the record, I don't think I succeeded very well in recapturing a child's view, but the attempt produced better results overall than if I hadn't made it.

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Snippets

Snippets

cold night –

even for the cat

more blankets

*********

drowsing

over my laptop –

warm day

*********

Night Terrors

(1)

high shelf –

cat hesitates 

to jump down

(2)

ibis feet

banging on my roof

4am

*********

loud thump

prowling cat

lands hard

*********

from next door

a high note —

child’s play

*********

Spring music –

the magpie also

craves company

*********

scrambling the wall

tiny spider sees me

as danger

I'm giving myself a little course from David Lanoue's book, Write Like Issa. The first lesson details Issa's empathy with other living things. Summing up, Lanoue says: 'Write like Issa. Write with compassion yet understatement. Leave space for your readers' minds to wander and wonder.'

Sharing with Writers' Pantry #84 at Poets and Storytellers United. (Apologies to those who have seen these already on Instagram or facebook.)