Sunday morning’s changed.
Smell of frying chicken’s gone.
Now it’s steamed tofu.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
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One man. One haiku a day. 17 syllables each. 366 days this year. 6,222 syllables. To you and you, too.
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What I knew about haiku before
Nothing. I had heard the word.
How I found out about haiku
Needed to buy an anniversary present. With me such gift-giving is a certified failure waiting to happen. (A glue-gun-for-Valentine's debacle inspired a nothing-else-with-a-cord rule.)
Mentioned need to colleague and friend (same person). She said she liked getting a nice haiku.
Didn't know what that was. Silently figured jewelry, sushi or one of those Asian paper things wherein a 10-year-old fashions a kaleidoscopic replica of the universe from a sheet of copier paper in 12.2 seconds.
Quit trying to hide my ignorance years ago. Went straight to, "What's haiku?"
Colleague and friend (same person) told me what haiku is without once using "chucklehead" or "last person in this or any hemisphere".
Went in search of jewelry anyway, figuring a tiny scrap of paper with a pitiful three-line verse from me would go over about like the glue gun.
But, it all led to an interest in writing haiku.
Maybe someday I'll get up the nerve to give one as an anniversary present.
If it doesn't go over well, at least I could include in my tail-tucking defense that it had no cord.
Mentioned need to colleague and friend (same person). She said she liked getting a nice haiku.
Didn't know what that was. Silently figured jewelry, sushi or one of those Asian paper things wherein a 10-year-old fashions a kaleidoscopic replica of the universe from a sheet of copier paper in 12.2 seconds.
Quit trying to hide my ignorance years ago. Went straight to, "What's haiku?"
Colleague and friend (same person) told me what haiku is without once using "chucklehead" or "last person in this or any hemisphere".
Went in search of jewelry anyway, figuring a tiny scrap of paper with a pitiful three-line verse from me would go over about like the glue gun.
But, it all led to an interest in writing haiku.
Maybe someday I'll get up the nerve to give one as an anniversary present.
If it doesn't go over well, at least I could include in my tail-tucking defense that it had no cord.
What I found out about haiku
Thanks to colleague and friend (same person) and my new best friend Google, I found out:
•Haiku is a 5,000-year-old form of Japanese poetry.
•A haiku has three lines.
•First and third lines have 5 syllables each.
•Middle line has 7 syllables.
•5-7-5.
•Last line should be a written "bang" or punchline.
•Should shoot for last lines that are at least whimpers.
•Them's the rules.
•Intend to follow the rules.
•Don't want a 5,000-year-old Japanese person yelling at me.
•Some people violate the 5-7-5 rule and call it haiku anyway.
•5,000-year-old Japanese person should yell at them.
Why I like haiku
It's clean. It's defined. It's a challenge to try to fit a meaningful thought into such a small (17 syllables) space.
I once thought I would write a novel, many of which are longer than 17 syllables. But that would take determination, dedication and drive. The three Ds. I have none of those Ds.
But I can usually stay focused long enough to get three lines done.
Usually.
I once thought I would write a novel, many of which are longer than 17 syllables. But that would take determination, dedication and drive. The three Ds. I have none of those Ds.
But I can usually stay focused long enough to get three lines done.
Usually.
So why a blog?
Why not just write haiku in the privacy of my own home?
I was encouraged to start this blog by colleague and friend (same person), daughter-in-law and friend (same person) and wife and friend (same person).
Blame them.
I was encouraged to start this blog by colleague and friend (same person), daughter-in-law and friend (same person) and wife and friend (same person).
Blame them.
2 comments:
For me, it WAS roast.
NOW, it's a too-pricey check.
But it beats tofu.
No response in haiku, but...for me it was a flashback to a Kris Kristofferson song (Sunday Morning Coming Down). I think it was in 1970. A line about the smell of someone frying chicken stuck with me. I remember that smell. Still.
Anything -- including maxing out a credit card for real food -- beats tofu.
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