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2008 International Haiku Competition - Judge's Report by Sandra Simpson

One word.

For one poem a single word was all it took to push it out of the top 20, a word that didn't need to be there. Another poem, originally placed in the top 10, was demoted further down the list because of a superfluous word. It's more likely that a 5-7-5 will contain superfluous words to make up the syllable count.

Interesting to see two 5-7-5 haiku among the prize winners. It's not a style in which I choose to write, but these authors have (almost, in the case of the commended poem) made the restrictions seem negligible.

While there were many fine haiku submitted, it did seem a fair few entrants had lost sight of the basics of haiku, so for those still finding their way let's recap a few:

• The poem is the poem. Haiku eschew poetic devices and words, preferring simplicity. One poem may have made it into the top 20 had the author been ruthless enough to detach "hue" from "autumn". "Azure" does not belong in a haiku, nor does "reverie" or "o'er". Haiku use everyday language; if you wouldn't use it in conversation, don't write it.

• Show, don't tell. Haiku are small poems, often only three lines. Yet they can contain the biggest ideas (see this year's winner, below). One poem contained six nouns (10 if we ignore hyphens), "and" and an adjective. Yes, verbless haiku exist but only rarely and they need to be more than just a word list.

• Keep it real. Poems that described lambs "frolicking in a blue sky", the sea breathing, a frog on water skis or blackbirds playing chess didn't make it past the first read. Also be logical, a haiku about a new Moon was a lovely image and well-written, but after some thought was clearly an impossibility. In the same vein rain doesn't "tame" streets, birds aren't "sadly silent", and trees don't "swoon".

• Get loud. If your tongue trips over your poem, so will the eye. Go gently with alliteration and please, don't rhyme them - one "haiku" contained five rhyming words.

• Less is more. Once you've written your poem go back and strike out the adjectives and adverbs. Be ruthless. If you're left with virtually nothing, this may be a clue that your haiku is missing a concrete image.

• Error message. Don't send poems with spelling and punctuation mistakes. This is an international competition, show some respect. Sending poems with spelling errors is inexcusable (and no, they weren't differences in spelling conventions, they were mistakes). Also disturbing was the number of people not using apostrophes in contractions.

• Understand the form. Haiku (or senryu) have conventions. If you want to win don't send meditations, jokes, nebulous spiritual thoughts, doggerel or inversions (reversing the phrase, a haiku doesn't make).

• Surprise! By all means write about your loved one, your cat or the Moon, but be aware that many writers have broached these subjects before you and a freshness of approach is, therefore, essential.

If you haven't read up about haiku recently please update your knowledge. Like everything else in this world, haiku is evolving and memories of what you learned in school may not be standing you in good stead.

A good place to start is the archived articles section of Haiku NewZ on the NZPS website www.poetrysociety.org.nz/haikunews (click on "archived articles" in the left-hand menu). If you don't know how to access the internet, ask a family member, neighbour or work colleague to help. One of the best places to start is Lee Gurga's article on editing haiku, or Jane Reichhold's articles. If you don't have a computer at home you can use the internet at your local library and, while you're there, check out the New Zealand anthology of haiku, the taste of nashi. Better yet, buy one and refer to it on a regular basis.

Yes, this is criticism, but I hope it is constructive criticism. Don't give up. You wouldn't expect to win Wimbledon (or even the local club tourney) if you had just started playing tennis. Practice, practice, practice, application to technique, build up your knowledge, and sweat. Like every other muscle, the writing muscle needs regular exercise to stay in shape.

Many haiku received were perfectly publishable, and I hope to see them in the competition anthology or haiku journals. But to do well in a contest there has to be a certain something extra - I hope you can see that quality in the very deserving winners. Look at these winning haiku and try to understand their structure and content, for each one is a lesson in itself. (By the way, in case anyone thinks I am a pushover for pregnancy/baby haiku, let me just say there were an awful lot of poems on these topics.)

1st
held breath
new-born's cry
begins again
    Erika Galpin, Nelson

Whose breath is held? The baby's before it starts that particular cry that will rouse the deepest sleeper? Or is it a parent waiting, hoping the baby is all right as it is born? The "begins again" links us into all the births, and all the fears, that have gone before, as well as suggesting the life that flows from parent into infant and so "begins again". On a less optimistic note, we could be looking at an exhausted parent, praying that the child will not cry again, will allow some rest. It is this mystery of the scene which gives the poem so much power (there is a surety of language here too, with a deft alliterative touch on "b" and "g").

A passing family member looked over my shoulder and asked me why I had chosen it, and all I could say was that it squeezed my heart, hit me in the gut.

2nd
gentle rain
scent of the seedbed turning
a deeper brown
    Katrina Shepherd, Scotland

This is a lovely poem which cleverly "turns" a smell-sense haiku into a sight-sense haiku. Can we smell something change colour? Perhaps not, but anyone who has stood and watched the rain fall on a garden will understand. This is more of a traditional haiku - season, nature - than the winner and it is nice to see what might be considered a less important topic given such depth.

3rd
park swing -
her smile each time
he returns
    John Bird, Australia

Here is a haiku that ably demonstrates the finding of the extra-ordinary in the ordinary. The writer has given us little information apart from "park swing", choosing to leave ambiguous as to who is swinging and who pushing, their relationship and ages, so each of us may make this our own. I like the simple joy in it too.

4th
dawn -
the old oak breaks
into song
    John O'Connor, Christchurch

Every time I looked at this haiku, I liked it more, and reshuffled my first choices to accommodate it. It's clever, deft and, again, full of joy. It's a haiku, like each of those above, I wish I had written myself. A whole world of sight and sound in just seven words.

5th
six miles to Pennan
cross-country through mud and rain
your small hand in mine
    Lorna Ashby, Scotland

I didn't immediately realise this was a 5-7-5 haiku, and that's the way it should be (I worried at the word "small" for a while, but decided it didn't matter). It was the story I imagined that drew me in, a story repeated so many times since Cain killed Abel. A soldier with a local child, taking her to safety in Pennan and, because we as a nation have so recently been discussing the Vietnam War again, that was where I placed it. Later, I Googled Pennan. Hmm. Apparently it's in Scotland. Never mind, it's still a good haiku.

Sandra Simpson, June 2008

Winners

First Erika Galpin, Nelson - ‘held breath'

Second Katrina Shepherd, Scotland - ‘gentle rain'

Third John Bird, Australia - ‘park swing - ‘

Fourth John O'Connor, Christchurch - ‘dawn - ‘

Fifth Lorna Ashby, Scotland - ‘six miles to Pennan'

Highly Commended:

Ernest Berry, Picton - ‘third trimester'

John Bird, Australia - ‘nimbus clouds ‘

Kirsten Cliff, Tauranga - ‘navigating'

Kenichi Ikemoto, Japan - ‘gnarled'

Jim Kacian, USA - ‘hometown visit'

Roland Packer, Canada - ‘snowmelt'

Janine Sowerby, Christchurch - ‘closed curtains'

Barbara Strang, Christchurch - ‘replying to his letter'

Quendryth Young, Australia - ‘fireworks . . . ‘

Commended:

Ernest Berry, Picton - winter bus'

Sheila Barksdale, USA - ‘high-drifting balloon'

Nola Borrell, Lower Hutt - ‘daybreak'

Nola Borrell, Lower Hutt - ‘night storm'

Anne Edmunds, Christchurch - ‘her stomach moves'

Lynn Frances, Kapiti - ‘new love'

Helen Lowe, Christchurch - ‘silver wedding day'

John O'Connor, Christchurch - ‘storm damage - ‘

Bruce Ross, USA - ‘summer clouds . . .'

André Surridge, Hamilton - ‘powhiri'

 


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