None Of You Know What Haiku Are
I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.
If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?
Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!
First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.
For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.
In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).
Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?
Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.
(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)
Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.
Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.
Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:
古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音
(Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto)
(The old pond —
A frog jumps in
The sound of the water.)
You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.
English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.
Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.
Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)
The piercing chill I feel:
my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom,
under my heel
We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.
"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:
meteor shower . . .
a gentle wave
wets our sandals
When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.
"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?
I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards
a year at most . . .
we pretend to watch
the hummingbirds
Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)
Further reading:
Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka
Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack
How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL
Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson
Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine
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“Are you ever angry?” You ask quietly, head resting in Bakugou’s lap. His thumb pauses where it strokes your cheeks, the far away gaze in his eyes suddenly snapping into focus as he looks down at you. He looks…different than you remembered, before you both were cast out of the pearly gates.
His hair doesn’t shine as bright as it used to, and it falls a little flatter without the halo pulling it up, soft. His eyes still hold that hardened gaze as a battle angel, but they’re deeper now. More sunken in and hollow, the flickering ichor now a stained crimson. His face is scarred and his hands are rough after the fall but he’s just—different.
“About what?” He asks, his lips pursed in confusion. You reach a hand up, stroking over his bottom lip, smooth a hand through his hair. You can almost feel the throbbing light radiating from him, can almost see how broad and ivory his wings would spread and hold you tight to him.
“It all. Everything. The fall.” You whisper, try not to shrink into yourself with the way Bakugou’s lip curls back in disgust. He pulls away from you and you sit up, resting on your knees, looking at him in such a way that his heart pangs in his chest.
His heart, something he’s never had a reason for when he still had his fists bathed in heavenly fire and no ounce of rebellion hidden under sinless skin. It aches in his chest at the mention of life after being kicked out with the only thing he could hold onto—you.
“Why would I miss my thoughtlessness? My inability to make a decision for myself? Why would I miss being a pawn?” Bakugou is all snarls, all snapping teeth and jowls, but it doesn’t scare you. He’s never scared you, even when his gait was limp from the impact of hard soil, and his hands grew rough, and his back grew jagged from ripped feathers.
“I miss it.” You whisper so carefully into the humid night, hands reaching for his own trembling ones. “I want to be holy again, Katsuki.”
He hisses at you, snatching away like you’ve burned him, like you’ve seized his halo and ripped it into two until it split into horns. Looks at you with such heavenly fire burning in his gaze that you want to shrink beneath him.
“Well—well I don’t. Find someone else who will, cause it sure as hell ain’t me.” You wonder who he’s trying to convince here, with his shaky voice and fluttering eyes and trembling mouth. You stare at him for a long while, lips wobbling at the gravity of it all. Your head hangs low, gathering yourself in your arms, head bowed to him—it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.
“Just hold me for now.” You murmur, eyes low as you settle yourself in his arms, forcing your way into his hold. “Please?” You tack on, unafraid of his bite, his snarl, his growl. Bakugou sits there stiffly for what feels like a century, but you’re used to waiting.
He gathers you in his arms slowly, pulling you into his chest, his body covering yours completely. And if you let yourself relax enough, you can almost feel the warmth of his wings surrounding you again.
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hi!! not a x reader ask but more in general. What do you think Valeria, Laswell and Farrah’s weird/ dumbest habit? Adore ur stuff btw!
Hello! Thank you! These are pretty short as well, but it isn't particularly easy to come up with a dumb habit either!
Valeria’s, Farah’s and Laswell’s Weirdest Habit
Valeria: She has trouble stepping on the edge of shadows. Valeria either has to avoid the shadows on the ground or not step on their edges and step on them entirely. While she can step on a shadow’s edge if she needs to, and as long as she doesn’t look like an idiot in front of her people, she will avoid doing so if she can. She knows it’s stupid, she knows it doesn’t make any sense, but she can’t help it either way.
Farah: She counts her steps whenever she takes a short walk somewhere. Again, she doesn’t know the reason why she does it, she just does. Naturally, she won’t do it when she takes a long walk, but whenever she has a place to get to that’s 200 steps away at most, she’ll count. Even when she’s not doing it consciously, she’ll subconsciously count her steps. It serves no purpose whatsoever but it’s something she’s been doing ever since she was a kid.
Laswell: She has a habit of eating food in a specific order. The part which she likes the least will have been eaten up before anything else, that way the taste of the best part of her food can linger longer than anything else. While she will eat things in a “random” order once she’s aware she looks stupid having eaten one thing for a long time, she will always finish her least favorite part first, no exceptions. Unless there’s a salad, in which case she’ll always finish the salad first.
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i think qinyao's dynamic is superbly underrated. that horror of a marriage. she loves him, and she doesn't know why he won't touch her. he loves her, but not in the way he once did, and the very thought of touching her makes him feel ill. after rusong dies, he's so relieved that she doesn't want to have another child, and feels horrible for it. if she hadn't married him, she would have been happy, he thinks. she would've never had to grieve like this. in public they are perfectly normal, the picture of a happy marriage, and only the two of them know the truth. and i don't think they ever talk about the cracks in their marriage, up until it's FAR too late. I Am Sick over them.
ahhhhhHHHHHHHHH
Their whole Situation is THE MOST DISTRESSING because it should have been so good! It probably still could have been if neither of them had known! Maybe it would even have been workable if someone had told QS sooner so she and JGY could navigate it all together. But no! Instead we get JGY keeping everything under wraps and continuing on as though This Is A Perfect Marriage And Everything Is Fine when it's not.
And the way in which it's not fine is fascinating, too. "Well-to-do couple's perfect-on-paper marriage is dysfunctional AF " is a common trope in US and UK fiction, but the dysfunction is usually this destructive, vicious thing. One or both of them is abusive, one or both of them is cheating, one or both of them is addicted to something to cope, one or both of them blames the other for all of these problems, one or both of them never loved the other at all. But JGY and QS aren't serving Don and Betty Draper vibes here. They care for each other! They treat each other with kindness! Even when she's sick with disgust and fury, QS confirms that JGY treated her well.
Which makes it more excruciating, honestly, because technically, Nothing Is Wrong. If they didn't love each other, it would be easy to exist apart. Yes, his wife's presence fills him with dread that won't abate, but to break the engagement would ruin her reputation, and none of this is her fault, and he's seen and dealt with worse, and he loves her, so he'll carry on. Yes, her husband abruptly withdrew all physical intimacy, but it's better than a husband who demands sex she doesn't want, and he's faithful to her, and he's so attentive otherwise, and she loves him, so she'll make the best of it. They're both trying so hard, and the situation is too messed up for it to be enough but not messed up enough for them to give up.
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WIP WEDNESDAY
i’m doing this for the heck of it, bc i have an active wip for the first time in…5? 6? years and i’m so, so giddy about it hehehe
“This is your house?”
“Er- yes?”
“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning yesterday?” Harry asked.
“You—didn’t ask?” Sirius replied, his grey eyes open deliberately wide.
Harry snorted—that innocent act could work on someone who didn’t know him. He got up, instead, to pull his drowsy godfather into the chair he’d just vacated, carefully navigating him around the floating cutlery and assorted members.
Before Mrs. Weasley could, he went up to the counter and grabbed a plate for Sirius, adding just a little extra of everything for him. He hadn’t had time to think - much - about this yesterday but he wasn’t happy with how skinny Sirius was, at all. It’d been over two years since he’d escaped Azkaban and though he was on the run, that didn’t mean he wasn’t without friends and allies. He shouldn’t be this skinny and that he was- it meant that he wasn’t taking care of himself, nor was anyone else.
No wonder, Harry was here for a month and he was going to do the job. He knew a little something about starvation, after all. That thought motivated him to increase the roasted veggies and fruit, and remove the bacon entirely. He placed the finished meal with a cup of light tea in front of his godfather, who was awake enough to be bemused.
“Er, Harry?”
“You need to eat properly,” Harry said, briskly. “You’re too skinny.”
Sirius blinked. “I—feel like that’s my line.”
“Too bad, finders keepers.” He took advantage of the confusion created by his words to tuck a fork into Sirius’ hand and sat down opposite him so he could keep an eye on his eating habits. Since this was the first time, he didn’t expect to know exactly what and how much Sirius ate and any future meals would depend on his current habits so it was necessary to understand those.
“Harry, dear, you didn’t have to do that,” Mrs. Weasley said kindly.
“I know, Mrs. Weasley. I wanted to,” he shrugged. He turned back to his godfather. “So, your house?”
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