'Straight From the Haijin's Mouth' is one of the features that makes up my haikai column in a fine
line, The Magazine of the New Zealand Poetry. This edition is from the September 2011 issue, and is reprinted with the kind permission of Laurice
Gilbert, Joanna Preston and Owen Bullock.
Straight
From the Haijin's Mouth
I asked this year's NZPS International Haiku Competition
Judges, Joanna Preston (Open) and Owen Bullock (Junior), 'What is it
about haiku that keeps you coming back for more?'
Joanna
Preston's answer:
It's less a case of ‘what keeps me coming back’ than haiku
refusing to let me go in the first place! Every few years I decide I
want to leave the genre alone for a while, but something will happen
that just can’t be expressed in any other form, or that announces
itself to me that way. And then I'm astounded all over again at the
depth and complexity of the genre. For me it's that shock of
recognition, of purpose, of rightness, that’s crucial in all
poetry, but most powerfully concentrated in haiku. And there’s no
better training for a poet – to be precise, to be good at
recognising exactly what elements of a scene or experience are the
really important ones, and to be as supple in meaning and frugal in
expression as possible. You feel the really good ones in your body,
as a physical impact, as well as in your mind. So maybe my need for
haiku is a form of addiction, the way runners can come to crave the
endorphin high. Or maybe it's the nuclear physics of poetry – the
power to blow the world apart packed into a tiny, seemingly innocuous
package.
Owen
Bullock's answer: I
love the variety that is possible in haiku, and the depth that is
sometimes held by such few words. That depth is like a lake, you can
swim on the surface or dive deep, chase sticks or skim stones. But it
is always about what is real, what is experienced, grounded in
sensation. The technique is hidden; the approach of the best haiku so
subtle that it is as if no effort goes into it, that it tumbles out
of the sky fully formed. Haiku takes me by surprise more often than
other forms of poetry.
My own search as a poet is for truth
and simplicity. Truth, in this context, means a faithfulness to what
actually occurred. The simplicity required to frame the experience is
a great lesson and training ground for any and all writing.
waiting . . .
a leaf falls
into my lap
~from
wild
camomile
Read
more from Owen on his website
