Dissection of the Haiku Tradition (1):
Flowers and Plants
In this series of essays, I will discuss one of the traditional elements of haiku: the kigo. I would like to share the view of a non-traditionalist. My focus will be on how I use a kigo when I write a haiku in English. Though many of the samples I use will be the work of Japanese haiku poets, my main purpose is not to compare Japanese-language haiku with English-language haiku. Also, my intention is not to tell you how you should write a haiku. I believe in diversity and I trust the voice of a haiku poet. I hope that my approach to kigo will help you deepen your haiku experiences. This first article is about flowers and plants. I plan to write future installments about animals and birds, moon and wind, and holidays and observances. Comments are welcome, but I am not planning to seek haiku submissions for my articles.
In American haiku, the linkage between nature and human has been emphasized. In most published haiku in the United States, the poet is invisible; one remains only an observer of nature. Many American haiku poets seem to believe that haiku should be a subdued sumi-e or a quiet still life. But haiku can be as colorful as van Gough's paintings or as abstract as the work of Picasso.
The core of my haiku is my emotion as a woman, as a Japanese person, and an immigrant. "Who I am" is the essential ingredient in my haiku. To convey my feelings, I rely on a kigo. Sometimes finding the right kigo is my first step to writing a haiku.
watakushi no hone to sakura ga mankai ni
my bones
and cherry blossoms
in full bloom
Yasuyo Ohnishi (1)
The cherry blossom is the national flower of Japan. From ancient times numerous poets have written about them. Saigyo dreamed of dying under the cherry blossoms. Those short- lived, delicate flowers were the symbols of Kamikaze fighters during World War II. In April, people all over Japan gather under the trees in full blossom and have a party.
bara no sono hikikaesaneba deguchi nashi
the rose garden—
unless you retrace your steps
there's no exit
Kiyoko Tsuda (2)
While cherry blossoms symbolize where I came from, roses represent Western culture and where I am now. I think roses demand a lot of care. To have a gorgeous, perfect flower, one has to tend them with water, fertilizers and pesticides. Roses are somewhat the manifestation of my borrowed culture. "Rose" itself is a summer kigo, but I prefer to use it in a winter setting. I can put contradictory feelings or images together in this way.
winter roses—
I am tired of reading
between the lines
Fay Aoyagi (3)
"Hydrangea" is my favorite summer flower kigo. According to my Japanese saijiki, hydrangeas change their colors after they bloom because of a substance called flavone. The most common term for "hydrangea" in Japanese is ajisai, but it is also called shichi henge (seven changes).
ajisai ya nobore to ieru gotoki kai
hydrangeas—
the stairs seem to tell me
to climb up
Tatsuko Hoshino (4)
In Kamakura, where Tatsuko grew up, there is a temple called Hydrangea Temple, famous for its hydrangeas. There are steep steps up to the temple from the street.
I wish I knew more about botany. Some English flower names sound very interesting and evocative; such as Blue Witch, Indian Paintbrush, Johnny Jump-up and Solomon's Seal.
shiragiku to ware gekkou no soko ni sayu
white chrysanthemum
and me, at the bottom of the moonlight
coldly glow
Nobuko Katsura (4)
My association with chrysanthemum is somewhat complicated. It is the flower of the Japanese royal family. A chrysanthemum is embossed on the front cover of Japanese passports. In a way, the chrysanthemum is a husk of the things which I left in my native country. Yet, I feel I am a chrysanthemum wherever I go, whatever I do.
One of my favorite quotes about haiku is by Takajo Mitsuhashi. She said, "writing a haiku is an act of stripping scale from my skin. The scale which is stripped from the skin is evidence of my life."
tsuta karete isshin ganji garame nari
ivy having died
the entire trunk
inextricably bound
Takajo Mitsuhashi (2)
In Japan, Takajo is one of "4Ts" (famous female haiku poets) along with Teijo Nakamura, Takako Hashimoto and Tatsuko Hoshino. They were pioneers in the early twentieth century when the haiku world was dominated by men. If a poet is a mere observer of nature, the gender of the poet may not be very important. However, if you place yourself at the center of your haiku, who you are and how you see the world will become critical.
karekusa no hito omou toki kiniro ni
withered grass
when I think of him ...
burnished gold
Masajo Suzuki (5)
Masajo Suzuki who lived a very interesting and rather dramatic life showed a different aspect of the withered grass. She saw hope in the withered grass. In the deep winter, we will hear the approaching footsteps of the spring.
Because I am not a nature lover, I see flowers and plants in a different way from a hiker or a gardener. It may be a helpful exercise for you to pick four or five flowers which are meaningful to you and compose a haiku based on why each particular flower appeals to you.
{Essay from "Frogpond" (Haiku Society of America membership magazine)
http://www.thehaikufoundation.org/omeka/items/show/779
https://fayaoyagi.wordpress.com/essay/
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(1) Gendai no Haiku (Modern Haiku Anthology edited by Shobin Hirai, Kadokawa Shoten, 1982. Tranlation by Fay Aoyagi
(2) Far Beyond the Field edited and translated by Makoto Ueda, Columbia University Press, 2003
(3) Unpublished
(4) Dai Saijiki (Comprehensive Saijiki) edited by Shuoshi Mizuhara, Shuson Kato, Kenkichi Yamamoto, Kodansha, 1982. Translation by Fay Aoyagi
(5) Love Haiku: Masajo Suzuki's Lifetime of Love, edited and translated by Emiko Miyashita and Lee Gurga, Brooks Books, 2000.
