There is a craze these days. Firstly, what exactly is this word 'craze' and who is the perpetrator of such movements. What is even more interesting is how come the masses expose vulnerability to being led on to 'join the winds' creating a turbulent shift of perception of what one thinks poetry to be.
It is so amazing had I spoken of Haiku to anyone few months back - I'd probably receive a response from the listener that I should consider migrating to China or else it is rather irritating for them to be served a bashful volley of ignorance on a sweet dished out word tray. But today, if I approach anyone it is taken as : Oh! you have written an Haiku, can I get to hear it?
Interestingly, Haiku is an upgraded adaptation of an Japanese poetry form called : Tanka - wonder how many out there know THIS? Tanka, originally was a single line poem consisting of 31 syllables. Before it got broken down into 5-7-5-7-7 syllable lines. Waka was another word used for this form.
I recently met a poetess from the U.S., who teaches Literature with her focus on Poems in a university. Awkwardly, she didn't seem to like the idea of a Haiku being called a 'form of poem' entirely. A Poem is an expression of an ocean of visuals which enrich the emotions of one person - not just reading it but also the one writing it. That was something she seemed to impress upon the audience. This was supported by several examples of poets she's had fun spending hours with exploring their exchange of the art with stress to each poet exercising their strengths in the words they expressed, where the poet either excelled in expressing a particular emotion most outwardly, the vibrancy of visuals which magicked out of the pen, a story poring out of a poem unanimously.
But Haiku was nowhere there in the decades of experiences the professor spoke of.
Haiku emerges as an art form like a sapling craving for the skies. It captures an essence and thus opens the Pandora's Box to storytellers with innumerable untold stories hidden in its meaning. Sticking by the old saying - Brevity is the soul of wit : it captures the most ordinary happenings in the simplest of words,
Isn't it thought provoking? Care for a coffee..
It is so amazing had I spoken of Haiku to anyone few months back - I'd probably receive a response from the listener that I should consider migrating to China or else it is rather irritating for them to be served a bashful volley of ignorance on a sweet dished out word tray. But today, if I approach anyone it is taken as : Oh! you have written an Haiku, can I get to hear it?
Interestingly, Haiku is an upgraded adaptation of an Japanese poetry form called : Tanka - wonder how many out there know THIS? Tanka, originally was a single line poem consisting of 31 syllables. Before it got broken down into 5-7-5-7-7 syllable lines. Waka was another word used for this form.
I recently met a poetess from the U.S., who teaches Literature with her focus on Poems in a university. Awkwardly, she didn't seem to like the idea of a Haiku being called a 'form of poem' entirely. A Poem is an expression of an ocean of visuals which enrich the emotions of one person - not just reading it but also the one writing it. That was something she seemed to impress upon the audience. This was supported by several examples of poets she's had fun spending hours with exploring their exchange of the art with stress to each poet exercising their strengths in the words they expressed, where the poet either excelled in expressing a particular emotion most outwardly, the vibrancy of visuals which magicked out of the pen, a story poring out of a poem unanimously.
But Haiku was nowhere there in the decades of experiences the professor spoke of.
Haiku emerges as an art form like a sapling craving for the skies. It captures an essence and thus opens the Pandora's Box to storytellers with innumerable untold stories hidden in its meaning. Sticking by the old saying - Brevity is the soul of wit : it captures the most ordinary happenings in the simplest of words,
Isn't it thought provoking? Care for a coffee..
