...Is breath by Sandra Simpson
(Piwakawaka Press, NZ, 2011)
I've admired Sandra Simpson's haiku for
some time. She writes with such depth and yet lightness, with such
delicacy and yet strength. I had struggled to explain to others the
elusive quality which I found so appealing within Sandra's haiku, and
only recently discovered the answer in John Carley's review of her
book here.
He says, of Sandra's haiku, “...we
have effortless word choice, unforced structure, and a naturalness of
subject that belies the deep resonance hovering just at the edge of
perception. This is what Matsuo Basho called karumi - ‘lightness'.
It is rare to see it done this well.” Many thanks to John for
expressing that so eloquently, and to Basho, of course!
Contrary to my absolute passion for
haiku, I don't buy haiku books very often. But when I heard that
Sandra's was coming out, I knew it would be of the highest standard
and so did not hesitate in purchasing a copy (even though my health
kept me away from the launch party last December). I wasn't disappointed.
Breath is a triumph from every aspect: the size of the book and the font, the cover design and title, the spacing and grouping of haiku. It all speaks of the karumi which Sandra conveys so well. I easily read it all in one sitting – something I've never done with a poetry book or journal before!
Breath is a triumph from every aspect: the size of the book and the font, the cover design and title, the spacing and grouping of haiku. It all speaks of the karumi which Sandra conveys so well. I easily read it all in one sitting – something I've never done with a poetry book or journal before!
I relished in reading some of my
favourites, such as:
feeling it
not feeling it
the grasshopper
between my hands
(Daily Haiku, Vol 6:
Cycle 11, 2011)
great-grandfather's diary
his sketch of an iceberg
fading away
(Third place, NZPS Haiku Contest,
2009)
pausing also
at the sacred matai …
a wood pigeon
(First place, Kokako Haiku Contest,
2008)
Christmas recipe –
all the ingredients
except my mother's hands
(Ice Diver, NZPS, 2011)
And other haiku that were new to me,
such as:
autumn leaves –
my forgotten chore
remains forgotten
(Kokako 2, 2004)
winter sun –
the time it takes
the sheet-scar to fade
(Daily Haiku, Vol 6: Cycle 11, 2011)
talking as though he
will die first –
magnolia petals
(first publication breath)
uncurling
from the tobacco jar
last year's receipts
(HM, Robert Frost Haiku Contest,
2009)
As Sandra is also an accomplished
photographer, I was pleased to see that she had used her own photos
to mark seasonal chapter beginnings, as well as other points
throughout the book. This is a wonderful touch that adds to the
overall experience that is breath.
I hope you'll purchase a
copy of this first collection from an award-winning New Zealand
haijin this National Poetry Month (US), especially if you don't
already have a Kiwi poet on your bookshelf!
Sandra Simpson grew up on a farm in
Manawatu, New Zealand, and has been a journalist for over 30 years.
She has lived and worked in England, Qatar and Lebanon and now lives
in Tauranga in the aptly named Bay of Plenty in New Zealand.
Her first haiku was published in 1995
and since then she has gone on to win several international awards,
has judged competitions in New Zealand and has had her work published
widely, including in several anthologies.
Two of her poems feature on the
Katikati Haiku Pathway (click here).
breath is her first collection and
represents work largely from the past decade.
Sandra has kindly written a commentary of two of the haiku I chose from breath:
great-grandfather's diary
his sketch of an iceberg
fading away
The diary actually belongs to my
great-great grandfather John Simpson and records the journey he made
with his wife and six children from England to New Zealand –
leaving Gravesend in the Thames estuary on Christmas Eve. 1874 and
arriving in Port Nicholson (now Wellington) on St Patrick’s Day,
1875.
Unfortunately, the extra “great”
didn’t scan as well so was dropped. His diary is written in pencil
so is, sadly, fading away. John sketched various things in his diary,
including the skyline of the island of Tenerife in the Canary group,
where his infant son Harry was buried at sea. In mid-February the
ship began to meet icebergs and on February 18 John made a sketch of
one.
The “fading away” was intended to
apply equally to his hand writing as to the slow melting of an
iceberg once it sets sail. The judge, Tony Chad, also saw the haiku
as a commentary on global warming.
The haiku was written especially for
the NZPS contest – coincidentally in November of that same year New
Zealand was captivated by the sight of icebergs floating past on
their way north to oblivion.
uncurling
from the tobacco jar
last year's receipts
This may seem like a haiku that simply
plays with words but I have written about what was, for me, a real
event. My father kept important receipts in a tobacco jar and each
year at tax time he would bring them out, unroll them and do the
necessary paperwork. There is a strong debate among his three
children as to who will inherit the china jar.
My thanks to Sandra Simpson for these insights, and for bringing us breath. A great end to a jam-packed Poetry Month!
