A Judge Reports by Ernest J Berry


Despite haiku's rocketing popularity over the last decade - with countless promotions, competitions, on & off-line workshops; regional, national & international get-togethers; competitions and how-to-haiku books et al - the quality of entries doesn't appear to have improved much since I last judged this competition 7 years ago.

Too many of the offerings disqualified themselves by breaches of basics and a large proportion of the remainder were of marginal quality. In my opinion, it is counter-productive to deny aspiring writers fair dinkum feed-back on the faulty premise that the truth may offend, so I have tried to be as considerate as possible in this respect - hopefully without discouraging anyone or overstepping the line between constructive and destructive criticism.

The setting-out and printing of entries was interestingly varied - from pencilled scribble on scrap paper to 48pt fancy fonts on vellum-look paper. Such attempts to impress are but a waste of time, effort and money. Remember, judges are swayed only by what they read - not by "the jewelled finger pointing to the moon" [Basho]. A barely legible masterpiece will always beat brilliantly presented mediocrity.

Those who wonder why their "baby" didn't make it may like to check the following essentials:

Was it:

1. brief

2. believable

3. evocative

4. fresh

3 poetic

5. syntactic?

Did it

1. scan

2. sing

3. expose

4. juxtapose

5. ahaa!?

Did it avoid:

1. predictability

2. tautology

3. read-ons

4. similies

5. emotions

6. hackneys

7. adjectives

8. adverbs

9. metaphor

10. anthropomorphisms

11. sentiment

12. cuteness

13. contrivance?

The commonest fault was trying too hard - usually showcased by adjectival diarrhoea and a surfeit of ins, ands, as, ares and thes. One incredible first line (referring to a cat) read: "Sweet, warm, cream, soft fur." Blimey! It reminded me of Twain's classic reference to adjectives: "If you see one, kill it". To that I'd add my own axioms: "The keener the axe the cleaner the cut" and: "All literature is too loong".

Haiku writers should bear in mind that spoon-feeding the reader with every tedious detail, however ingenious, is not in the spirit of haiku and tends only to blunt the axe of imagination. Refer to Eric Amann's book Wordless Poem and, another of my axioms: "Haiku = delete".

Haijin tight-rope between brevity, impact, poesy, lyracy and comprehensibility. If we want our work to be understood and appreciated, we should avoid enigma, esoterics and any constructions which confuse or look like shopping lists, sentences, headlines, epitaphs, epigrams, anagrams or telegrams. Nor do we want riddles; political religious, romantic or emotional rants; or rehashes of tired haiku about sunsets, reflections, cherry blossoms, autumn leaves, etc; or random snippets of prose which any untutored scissor could produce.

Consider the famous:

old pond
a frog jumps in
water sound

- Matsuo Basho

or the lesser known but equally evocative:

dusk
up to my ears
in birdsong

- John O'Connor

or:

gunshot the length of the lake

- Jim Kacian

These three classics, which between them contain only one adjective, just two definite articles, and average only eight syllables, could have been written by any (literate) toddler. Complexity is no match for simplicity. I've noticed that most mainstream poets and literary brains - including many of our own haiku eggheads - still can't get their heads around writing the stuff so you don't need to be a genius to master it.

On the other hand, we do want poetry - something which grabs us by the shorts - where every word and syllable works toward an end product that SINGS! Discipline, constraint and the courage to delete could prove the difference between winning and losing.

So to this year's worthy winners:

NB: All criticism is subjective and depends on infinite variables concerning a judge's gender, identity, idiosyncracies and background. These factors could mean the difference between winning and losing.

1st Prize:


backing out
of the spider's web
... sorry

Quendryth Young, NSW, Australia


Shades of Issa? This pearl survived all readings till it topped the "probables" pile and, hopefully, has universal appeal. To me it has nearly* all the requirements of a classic - the poet entices us down this alley, path, corridor, avenue, whatever - between fences, walls, portals, trees (we're left the choice of scenario - which is important because it allows the widest variety of readers to relate in their own ways). It's sparse, disciplined, multi-layered, open-ended, non-specific, and atmospheric - without mentioning dusk or morning mist the poet has us on a wordless leash of time and climate.

Reminds me of beach-combing some years ago when my life crossed paths with a tiny stranded crab. As I carried it back to the ocean I thought, "hope nobody heard me apologise". If they HAD, I may not have identified with this poem and there could have been be a different winner.

*Deleting ‘spider' might be worth considering.

Second Prize:


waiting room
a calendar shows
the wrong month

Jim Kacian, VA, USA


Bearing in mind the anonymous: "Sorry this letter is so long - I didn't have time to write a short one", I can appreciate the discipline it took to abbreviate this pregnant tale. "waiting room" is so evocative and something we can all identify with in our own way so it's a good start, and in true haiku spirit the writer spares us details such as teen pregnancy, spring rain, trimester, morning sickness, etc. Then our boredom wanders up the wall calendar and we are neatly jolted into reality.

Well done - we have a short story in eight words - like WOW!

Third Prize:


spring thaw
my ex returns
the lawn mower

Joanna Preston, Christchurch


Dunno whether to laugh or weep at this! Is their romance perennial like the grass? Are they at the breaking point? Or reconciling? This could be the shortest Mills ‘n Boon ever! A highly amusing mistresspiece.

Fourth Prize:


two hands
on her teacup
still it shakes

André Surridge, Hamilton

Unfortunately something we all relate to as we become more aware of Parkinson's disease. The staccato repetition of t accentuates the rattle. Can't you just HEAR it? Ouch!

Fifth Prize:

abed with fever
swirl and eddy of finches
in the apple tree

Jeffrey Harpeng, Qld, Australia

Normally, I don't dig 5/7/5, but for some reason this one got to me big time. Then again, if it had been rendered:

fever
the swirl of finches
in the tree

it might even have reached the top!

No dissertation on haiku is complete without stressing brevity. Even apart from haiku it could mean the difference between life and death: the fewer words we use to get a message across, the quicker it's comprehended and acted on. For example: "take care - achtung- you are entering a mine-field" (a standard sign in Korea during the 1950 war) ... by the time one read it one was dead. Or the ubiquitous: "PASSING LANE 500M AHEAD". Ahead? Where else?

                                           the quality of haiku is not strained
                                                    it droppeth like a gentle
                                                              plop from a
                                                                   strain
                                                                      e
                                                                       r

Editor's Note: This article has been slightly edited from the judge's report Ernie wrote for the 2007 NZPS international haiku competition. Ernie is a well-known New Zealand haiku writer who regularly achieves competition success internationally.


 

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