Haiku 11
4/11/2012

ginger and garlic
I know of other flavors
but why mess with these?

Bon appetit, my friends….

Haiku 9
4/9/2012

I'm doing laundry
The birds sing like it is spring
They don't know I'm here

Haiku 10
4/10/2012

The trash truck rolls past
How could we forget again?
Lazy nest-builders

Hi friends.

While I'm writing a haiku everyday this month, I'm trying not to be online much over the weekends, so I'll usually post my Saturday and Sunday poems on Monday. 

Thus, this post:

Haiku 7
4/7/2012

creek water running —
is the drought really over?
all the birds say yes

Haiku 8
4/8/2012

that big, fat, full moon
echoed in the yolks of eggs;
breakfast's a fresh start

We're nearing the end of the first week of National Poetry Month. 

Today's my day to catch up on reading what everyone else is writing and sharing — and you can, too, by going to Read, Write, Howl for Poetry Friday, by signing up for Knopf's Poem-a-Day or Poem-a-Day from the Academy of American Poets, and by turning up your speakers and enjoying poetry read aloud at the Poetry Foundation.

Personally, my yearly April pleasure is a daily haiku. It is both very manageable and very intentional, and I find myself thinking about words and lines and turns and surprises throughout the day. This morning, for example, started early for me and my sweet new pooch. Just us and the moon and a few haiku…

Haiku 6 (plus 2)
4/6/2012

moon hung like a prop
stretches shadows long and dark;
dog raises hackles

blossoms on the street — 
pup thinks they might be tasty
but they're for the birds

who tipped the trashcan —
fat raccoon with kits to feed?
reuse, recycle

We have a teen and a pre-teen at our house.
We think they're both pretty amazing.
Thoughtful, funny, smart…
Tender, creative, full of heart…

I mean, we've always thought that and they've just spent the past 11-13 years confirming it all.

Somedays, they reveal new stuff.
Accidentally.
And we glimpse not just who they are, but who they're becoming.

Last night my teen and I went together to a memorial service for a classmate of hers who died after 10 courageous years of navigating the craziness of Cancerland. He was way too young, and the hillside was full of middle schoolers holding little white candles and crying openly. It was the most painful and beautiful thing.

And there was my girl, 13 years old and taller than I am, tears streaked down her cheeks, walking right up to Liam's mother afterwards — having never met her before — to say something — I couldn't hear what — and to hug her. And then we drove home, holding hands, and she proceeded to do hours of homework and to bake hotcross buns, of all things, until the wee hours of the morning. 

I have spent most of my life trying to figure out how to hold the good, the bad and the determined in my singular self, and my daughter, less than a third my age, is integrating it all, sage-like. I am pretty much in awe.

Haiku 5
4/5/2012

Hair like a curtain
Hiding from math or from me?
She looks up, moon bright.

Haiku 4
4/4/2012

Some things that sound good:
arugula and chocolate.
What? It's my birthday!

OK, friends…
A few of you have messaged me asking for a quick little refresher on the art of haiku.
I think we might need to be Japanese to truly understand and embody the form, but here are the basics on the English variation:

1. Three lines, often (but not always) of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables again. The syllabics rule is a strictly Western one, but I like to use it to give me some defined parameters to work within. Some people just prefer to think of haiku as "breath-length," which is lovely, too.

2. The use of a kigo, or seasonal reference — or some awareness of the natural world.

3. The use of a kireji, or cutting word, or a turning point or juxtaposition or a-ha moment. This often happens at the end of the first line or the second line and, in English, this is also where we may employ punctuation — a colon or semicolon or an em dash, for example.

4. Each line usually stands alone as a complete thought or grammatical phrase, rather than flowing over into the next line.

If you love the idea of the brevity and shape, but don't want to write about cherry blossoms for a month, you can write some haiku and some senryu, which is a very similar form emphasizing human nature and relationships. 

And, all that said, for me, a month of haiku isn't so much about precise alignment with these "rules", but rather a practiced attentiveness and ritual. If you choose to join me, either one day this month or 30, I encourage you to use the guidelines that work for you — that make this experience accessible and meaningful and right…

And now, without further babble, today's poem:

Haiku 2
4/2/2012

cat and cardinal
stock-still stare-down til cat wins
back to nonchalance

Today it is April — my favorite month of the year.
Because of birthdays — my own and my sweetheart's.
And because of the weather.
And because National Poetry Month offers up an excuse to write and read poetry round the clock.

So.
Welcome to another year of daily haikus.
Join me — either as a reader or, write your own!
It will make you happy, I promise…

When you've been in a long, deep drought, the earth responds with the most incredible giddy vigor when it finally rains. 
We've had nice easy soaks a number of times this winter and now it is a riotous, colorful spring. 
Flowers push through every fence and line the highways; folks wear them tucked into baseball caps and lapels.

But, also flourishing?
Weeds.
And backyard bamboo.
And pollen.

HAIKU 1
4/1/2012

weeds sprout overnight
green grass yellows with pollen
I am my yard's fool

I talk to my kids about feeling — and recognizing — their own feelings. 
I talk to my students about writing emotional truth — and how that's often more important than "fact". 
I believe in emotional authenticity.
And paying attention to what we feel.
I believe that what we feel matters.

As an adolescent and a teenager, I put up all sorts of walls. 
Actually, I put up walls inside of fences behind curtains.
(I probably only effectively hid things from myself, but there you go…)
It seemed like the thing to do. 
(There were a lot of "messages" out there.)

But one of the great joys of being over 40 is wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Pouring stuff out — on the page or around the dinner table. 
My kids think of me as a crier. 
And they're right…

BY TONY HOAGLAND

Read the rest here….

And read all the other wonderful Poetry Friday entries here…

Happy weekend, friends.
Namaste.