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One More Year to RememberÓ Dan Lukiv Introduction Do we take time to notice “little moments,” imagistic events, snapshots in time as we head through each day? In 1974, after discussing one-to-one algebraic mapping from one n (dimensional)-space to another with one of my mathematics professors, in his mouldy-smelling office, we eventually moved on to three-dimensional space, our space, the space on earth that flesh and blood and bones occupy. Bearded like many of his colleagues, he said, “That reminds me of a lesson I learned while working on my PhD dissertation. For nine months I had been getting up, thinking, scribbling, thinking, writing, and occasionally eating, and going to bed only to repeat the sequence the next day.” He cleared his throat, standing in front of his chalkboard, and put down his chalkstick. “I realized I didn’t feel the wind in my hair, I didn’t notice the clouds in the sky or even its colour. Sometimes I didn’t know what month it was. I told myself, this is ridiculous. It was time I started noticing the grass and the trees and the flowers and the bumble bees. Since then, each day, I try to take time to notice what a wonderful world I live in, and to not take it for granted.” That professor taught me something far more valuable than n-space mapping, which I have to say I found interesting; he taught me to look for and deeply value those infinitesimal--a word used often in mathematics--events that fill up each day, making it unique. I have recalled that episode in his office many times over the last 31 years. Writing haiku or senryu is one way I notice “the grass and the trees and the flowers and the bumble bees.” Writing haiku or senryu is one way I notice the infinitesimal, the “little moments,” the imagistic events, the snapshots in time. Thanks, Professor So-And-So. I remember that event in his funny-smelling office, but I can’t remember his name. Forward Haiku: perhaps that word brings to your attention a concise form of poetry, one that many call imagistic, with line one of 5 syllables, line two of 7, and line three again of 5 (Lukiv, 1997; and Wakan, 1993). You may say that every word must count; that often permanent and transitory images are linked for an evocative effect; that the present tense is essential; that a seasonal word grounds the poem in time; and that the words show, in images, but do not tell the reader how to feel. Such a traditional view, however, is often replaced by innovations that push the boundaries that define haiku today. Rengé, editor of Haiku Headlines, "prefers 5/7/5 syllabic discipline, but accepts irregular haiku...which display pivotal imagery and contrast" (Haiku Headlines, 2002, p. 160). Actually, "many modern Japanese haiku...do not include a seasonal word, and many vary from the 5-7-5 onji [Japanese syllables] that are traditionally required" (Wakan, 1993, p. 57). Robert Spiess, editor of Modern Haiku, requests work that displays "traditional aesthetics of the haiku genre" (Modern Haiku, 2002, p. 238), but allows for haiku that are "innovative as to subject matter, mode of approach or angle of perception, and form of expression" (p. 238). Does this mean "anything goes"? We might think of haiku as "poetry of suggestion, of understatement" (Virgil, 1991, Introduction), as poetry of "moments of special awareness that...make one feel the wonder of the ordinary seen anew" (Introduction), as poetry of essence that establishes "a delicate mood, a deep emotion by new associations of images" (Introduction). Although the haiku poet doesn't generally tell the reader what emotion to feel, he provides "his reader just enough of a glimpse of a reality to allow the reader to experience the emotion it engendered in [himself]" (Introduction). The haiku poet provides that glimpse through images exquisitely objective and concrete (Welch, 2004). You're welcome to apply what I've said and reported about haiku to a related form called senryu. Some people like to argue about what makes a haiku versus what makes a senryu. "You could say," according to Naomi Wakan, "that senryu make you laugh at human foolishness, and haiku make you ponder or wonder" (1993, p. 62). Others have their own distinctions: "Senryu are usually humorous or satirical....Unlike haiku, senryu do employ poetic devices such a simile, metaphor, personification" (Virgil, 1991, Introduction). For me, haiku may also use literary devices (Ament, 2003) such as simile, metaphor, personification, and onomatopoeia, and, for me, haiku 1. refer exclusively to nature, Also for me, senryu fulfill “2,” “3,” and “4,” but I have to add that although senryu may refer to nature (see “1”), they definitely refer to people. I hope you enjoy the haiku and senryu that make this collection, which I call One More Year to Remember. If you have any comments about my work, by all means contact me at lukivdan@hotmail.com. References Anakiev, D. (1999). From movement to literature. In D. Anakiev & J. Kacian (Eds.), Ament, E. (2003). A glossary of rhetorical terms with examples. Retrieved August Haiku Headlines. (2002). 2003 poet's market. Cincinnati, OH: Writer's Digest Kacian, J. (1999). Tapping the common well. In D. Anakiev & J. Kacian (Eds.), Lukiv, D. (1997). Creative writing for senior secondary students. Vancouver, BC: Modern Haiku. (2002). 2003 poet's market. Cincinnati, OH: Writer's Digest Ó Copyright © 2005, 2006 by Dan Lukiv. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
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