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| Haiku consists of three
lines totaling 17 (Japanese) syllables, often about some subject in nature or one of the
seasons. The arrangement of syllables is usually 5,7,5. Some poets feel
syllabic content of each line can vary providing the poem contains only three lines and no
more than 17 syllables. Others believe that while the haiku must consist of three
lines, the syllabic content can be less than 17 because equivalent Japanese words contain
more syllables. None-the-less a good haiku will suggest much more than the few
words written. Copyright © 19801, 19842,
19903 by David Owen Kubiatowicz
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Tenacious lilacs
smashed by thunderstorm fury:
purple carpeting1 |
Olfactory delight!
Fragrant Redmon Linden, swept
by hot summer breeze1 |
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Hesitating feet...
acorns tossed at weathered stones;
buried memories1 |
Suddenly without
warning, his long sought answer
was revealed to him1 |
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Awake he panicked
realizing his dream had
forgotten her face3 |
Their love reflected
summer's patterned hues. Somewhere
flutes played accolades.2 |
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Repeating Haiku below
The Violinist1
[For son Joseph's 11th Birthday]
Tense violin strings
waiting for the bow in hand
of the "little man."
He appears: golden
brown hair neatly combed aside,
seriously faced.
Wood to chin, bow set,
audience hushed and waiting,
he begins to play...
Screech! Screeeech! The sounds swell.
Eyes and ears focus on him...
Screech! Scritch! Scratch! Scrunch! Oh!
Windows near shatter!
Crystal wine glasses explode!
Rich wall hangings droop.
Screech! The people cheer...
Scronk...ping! His "E" string breaks,
but he continues...
Screeeech! Screech!...Crack, blam, crash!
Grand piano is rubble,
accompanist, safe.
He stops a moment
to bend the broken string. Shouts of
acclamation rise...
Screech! Screech! Double ping...
Both "G" and "D" strings snap, while
wall plaster crumbles.
The master plays "A"...
Scronk! Scronk! Scro..crack! soundboard splits, Fingerboard splinters...
"A" string tension pulls
the violin to matchsticks
which drop at his feet.
At last, all is still
within the great concert hall
except plaster dust,
which settles as new
fallen snow. This the master
blows away, then bows...
At once the people
come alive again with cheers
and standing applause...
"Wha...What! Where am I!"
shouts the "little man" awake
from deep dreamy sleep.
Must have been too much
ice cream, cake, soda pop and
Birthday excitement
For an eleven
year old. Wednesday, November
twenty-six, 'eighty!
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