Haiku

Haiku is a genre of poetry much abused in the past (though not necessarily by all), and much ill has been said of it by those who don't understand it. I hope to explain some of the mysteries on this highly formalized art for all to enjoy. I will also include some of my favorites and some of my own.

The original poetic form of Haiku, is the tanka, of which a haiku is merely the first 3 lines. Whereas a Haiku has a syllabic count of 5, 7, 5 per line, the tanka is characterized by 5, 7, 5, 7, 7, or two more lines each of 7 syllables.

Haiku is unique in that it requires an immense amount of reader participation. Meanings and insinuations abound in haiku that are not seen if the word is taken for face value. Example: Autumn, only two syllables (one in japanese) but volumes of meaning. Imagine your favorite or least favorite fall day. This is what is meant by "Autumn," not just the word or impressions of the season but also feelings, symbolism and mythos.

In original form, Haiku is 17 syllables - 5 syllables in the first and third line and 7 syllables in the second line, there can be as many verses as you want, though Soun or free verse haiku which is becoming popular breaks these traditions...the following is a Soun written by Basho, foremost master of modern haiku:

     Kareeda ni
     Karasu no tomarikeri
     Aki no kure

     On the dead limb
     squats a crow - 
     autumn night.

18 syllables and it is still considered one of his greatest. Notice the dash in the second line. This is a kireji or "cutting word" this denotes a sudden perception of something not immediate to the senses.

     An old oak
     cares not for
     cherry blossoms
             -Basho

     Girl cat so
     thin on love
     and barley
              -Basho

(Barley is a staple diet for alley cats in japan)

I said haiku requires reader participation. Imagine this...cold wintery day with a blowing wind, thin clouds obscure and filter the suns light. A day of meloncholy. Then two pigeons land near you and begin to peak at each other's beaks...It looks like they are kissing...smiling at how the birds resemble your own wishes, you don't realize until you turn to leave, that the sun has finally shone through the clouds to begin warming the day.

          
     Cloudy winter day
     Pigeons kiss then stand ashamed-
     So bright the sun now!

Thanks for listening to my ramblings here's a few more you might like:


     The poems of nature
     And seventeen syllables
     Too much to say

(My own soun, only 16 syllables)

     Fading bells -
     Now musky blossoms
     Peal in dusk

     Lightening - 
     Heron-cry 
     Stabs darkness

- Master Bard, Dallé de Sallé, December 9, 1996

If Bardics Wuz Cool

If Bardics wuz cool
and I ain't talk'n 'bout that
"Valleys and green pastures"
Or the "here-to-for-thee-wilst-thou-lovest-me?" crap
I'm talking 'bout loud boisterous song
That makes you dance and move like a berserk barbarian.
So cool assassins be try'n to sneak in and kill'em all.
If Bardics wuz cool...

If Bardics wuz cool
You'd be hearing the Purple Duck say'n,
"That was a funky fresh def jamm'n Bardic"
Or all of Claw say'n, "Damnit, you are wrong!"
Whenever someone 'dist a bard.
If Bardics wuz cool

If Bardics wuz cool
Every time a Bardic was planned
all the kings-men would be at hand
To fill every empty beer mug
or to quietly beat every loud drunk
If Bardics wuz cool

If Bardics wuz cool...
You could Holl'a "Let's Bardic!" And when the "Lay-on!!"
was called, Bards would be sling'n new songs Heavy and Hard!
There'd be no need of reeve's cause everyone would be
Know'en who the masters of Dragons were.
If Bardics wuz cool

If Bardics wuz cool
You'd see more endeavors in the arts
You'd read 'bout bardics in every newsletter.
In fact, there'd be underground Bardics
that only the cool would know about;
and I ain't talking 'bout the Legionaries
If Bardics wuz cool

If Bardics wuz cool
There'd be huge companies of only poets, singers and
Musicians of the like.
Companies like:

The Singers, who wear only Red and Black, who holler "Singers!!"
Before, during and after each phunky bardic.

The Bardic Legion, full of poetically impaired self-righteous suckas,
who have injuries from Bardics held long ago. Whom the populace call
PISSers!

The Bardairs, who can only play drums and juggle bloody knives
In drunk'n mellin-enhanced stupored states

If Bardics wuz cool
Every young Maiden would swoon at every bard, whenever he played and sang.
No Bards fingers would get cold
cause these maidens would keep'em warm with lyrical lust
If Bardics wuz cool

If Bardics wuz cool
I'm say'n if bardics were cool
Kings and Knights would interrupt bardics
Draw their swords and Knight
A Bard right there on his battlefield;
just like they do with Knights of the Sword
in the middle of a Clan Ditch
That is if Bardic's were cool!

Count D'allé de Sallé

The Sky is Blue
-dedicated to Kayrana

The sky is blue because we want it blue
For when we look upon our laborous days
Towards heavens pour, how others screw
with our lives, we just want life our way.

We want the sky blue, for it's a comfort
Or 'cause it's easier to tell a little one
That God made it that way. Don't thwart
the simplicity in scientific comparsion!

Just look to the skies like the rest of us
Know'n its suppose to be blue 'n illustrious.

- Master Bard, Dallé de Sallé, September 8, 1997