Apparently, perhaps because recent books of poems by Richard Wilbur have been written in three-line syllabic "haiku stanzas," many writers have imitated his practice and by extension have decided that anything written in three short lines is a haiku. Neither Wilbur's stanzas nor poems are "haikus" in the traditional sense.
The haiku is a poem which has its basis emotive utterance, an image, and certain other characteristics as well, including spareness, condensation, spontaneity, ellipsis, and a seasonal element. A distinctions has sometimes been made between the haiku and the senryu, though both have exactly the same external form. The senryu is an inquiry into the nature of humankind, whereas the haiku is an inquiry into the nature of the universe.
The haiku is philosophically an outgrowth of Zen Buddhism. Haiku translated into English tend to appear, to Western eyes, overly sentimental and to fall victim to the pathetic fallacy — overstated personification. We do not understand that the Zen poet is trying to put himself or herself into the place of the thing perceived, empathizing with the inanimate object. Moreover, the Zen poet is trying to “become one” with the object and thus with all things.
The haiku has perhaps been best described as “a moment of intense perception.” William Carlos Williams enunciated the American-British Imagist doctrine as “No ideas but in things.” Both conceptions are, if not identical, at least quite similar, for both are based upon the sensory level. Williams’ dictum and T. S. Eliot’s “objective correlative” q.v., sever the observer from the perceived object, while at the same time preserving much of the effect of Zen empathy. An objective correlative is simply the vehicle of a metaphor. The theory is that, if the correct object that correlates with the idea to be expressed (symbolizes that idea) is chosen, then the idea will arise through connotation and overtone without being stated denotatively. It is through this objectivity, finally, that the poet in English achieves empathy — which is only a way of saying there is no such thing as pure objectivity.
Here are three traditionally constructed haikus (by yours truly):
THREE HAIKU
When the rain falls through
the mountain, the bottom of
summer's night turns white.
What does the moon ask
of the summer? The sound of
the rain is darkness.
I hear the roses
caroling in the garden
beneath the old oak.
-- Lewis Turco
The Book of Forms: A Handbook of Poetics, Including Odd and Invented Forms, Revised and Expanded Edition by Lewis Putnam Turco, Hanover, NH: University Press of New England (www.UPNE.com) , 2012 • 384 pp. 3 illus. 5 x 7 1/2" Reference & Bibliography / Poetry 978-1-61168-035-5, paperback.
Miss Pussy's Parlor Songs, Part Seven
PART SEVEN
THE WAR ON COAL
The War on Coal is over
With windmills in the air,
With solar panels on our roofs
And water everywhere!
The War on Coal is over,
It's back to shoveling stone,
Reviving radiation --
Cancer in the bone!
The War on Coal is over!
We're fracking "natural" gas,
With pipelines full of petroleum
And methane up the ass!
DO AS I SAY
"Do as I say, not as I do,"
Says Vladimir the Vamp
To Donald Trump, his favorite,
Most cuddly little scamp.
"You've violated every law
Agreed to by the nations!
If you don't quit it right away
I'll minimize your rations.
"What I've done in the Caucasus
And elsewhere is quite legal --
The Russian Bear can do such stuff,
But not the puny Eagle,
"So leave my pal Assad alone
To gas his folks in Syria!
Do nothing more to make him pay,
To make him loathe and fear ya!
"Or I will somehow make you do,
Not what I do, but say.
I'm Vlad Bear Chest as you must know --
I thought that you were gay!"
SPICER "THINKS"
That famous basher al-Assad
Is worse than Adolf Schickelgruber
Who never gassed his untervolk
When Deutschland was alles uber.
The Holocaust never occurred --
Auschwitz was a Nazi spa,
Apparently, where people went
When they were feeling kind of blah.
When one is born, then time begins,
And everything that came before
Does not exist, so Spicer thinks,
Thus it is easy to ignore.
THE BIGGEST BOMB
The biggest bomb in the modern world
Carries the onus of being hurled
By the biggest anus of the smallest lump
Of dust in the cosmos, Donald Trump.
ARMADA
" We're sending an armada
Full of deadly weapons
To threaten North Korea
With TNT and atoms.
"Our task force will arrive
Any day and assail ya,"
Donald Trump avers...,
"Wait! Now they're in Australia!
"I'm pretty sure I mentioned
To all my Navy buddies
That they should hit Korea,
Not play with fuddy-duddies
"Down-Under at their war games.
There's some misunderstanding
About what they're supposed to do,
Where their bombs should be landing!
"I guess I'll have to handle
This mess all by myself!
Hand down my water pistol
Lying on that shelf!"
ARSONIC
The CinC went on TV
To say Comey was fired.
Comey saw on TV news
That he'd been disenhired!
The President was very brave,
For he had been empowered
To hire and fire almost at will --
He was no sleazy coward
Hiding in the Oval Office
While on the other coast
Comey at a conference
Found he had lost his post --
Trump's email co-conspirator
When Hillary was running
Found out what gratitude's about:
Perfidy and cunning.
TRUMPELSTILTSKIN
Today I'll lie, tomorrow too,
The next I'll tell a whopper wild
Enough to match the things I do,
For Trumpelstiltskin I am styled!
May 12, 2017 in Commentary, Current Affairs, Humor & Satire, Literature, News, Nursery Rhymes, Poems, Poetry, Politics, Satire, Song lyrics | Permalink | Comments (0)
Tags: Donald Trump, Miss Pussy's Parlor Songs