.jpg) |
| Then ... (1998) |
Rusty
nib –
breaking
the solid mass
in the
inkwell.
Who?
My name is Tim Chamberlain.
I’m a haiku poet emerging from a 20-year hibernation. I first began publishing
haiku and short verse in the mid-1990s, when haiku and short verse was mainly featured
in small-press magazines, but I took a long break from sharing my work
publicly. Recently I began submitting my poems again to haiku journals. It’s
interesting to wake, like Rip Van Winkle, and get reacquainted with the world
of haiku in English. To see how it has been transformed from the analogue print media
of the late twentieth century, and discover how it has bloomed into the globalised, digital
age of the twenty-first century. It’s amazing to see how large and vibrant it
has become. I’m glad to see a few familiar names from the old days, who are still going strong. I doubt many people from that era will remember my early
efforts, and, to be honest, I would rather forget the majority of them as well! – Time
moves on. Older, maybe wiser, etc., etc.
.jpg) |
| still: a journal of short verse (edited by ai li, 1997-2001) |
Why?
I never stopped writing during that
long time away. Consequently, I feel my focus (in terms of subjects) and my
feel (for short verse with regard to form) has gone through a prolonged process of distillation. I’ve never been
keen on dogmatic rules or manifestos, but I do believe in keeping a keen eye on
structure and shape, carefully crafting what I write. Hopefully that is
reflected in the quality of my poems. I want them to come across as competently
considered, and not simply as swiftly-scribbled platitudes or throw-away aphorisms. Some of my
haiku have been revised and refined over years, but equally others seem to pop up fully-formed. But the latter only count when they are an
unconscious product of the former. That’s what makes writing haiku and short
forms for me an all-enthralling pastime. Undoubtedly, once the bug has bitten
you, the need and the urge to continue to learn, and thereby grow, is what keeps
this peculiarly oddball addiction fresh and rewarding.
.jpg) |
| some of my haiku travel notebooks |
What?
Each poem is presented here with a poet’s perspective commentary (set in italics). Some are long, but most are short.
These are not to be confused with my haibun and prose poems (which are
presented, unitalicized). My haiku and short poems are mostly meant
to be read as standalone pieces (which is how they are presented if/when they
have been published elsewhere). So the reader should feel free to skip the
commentaries, if they prefer to read the poems purely for what they are, sotto
voce. However, commentaries are part of the original tradition of haikai as it was
first practiced by Matsuo Bashō, and by his contemporaries and
successors in Japan. Mine are merely my own way of thinking through, or looking
back upon what I’ve written and chosen to keep. My notebooks are never the
finished article. They are always “works in progress.” Consequently, the
‘leaves’ presented on this blog will be flawed, and a lot of what appears here
will not be to everyone’s taste, i.e. – “not everyone’s cup of tea.” But that’s
fine. There will always be tea houses and coffee shops. Some will prefer to
drink in one, but not the other; while some will be happy to commune in both. Sencha, or Masala Chai. Nothing here is necessarily set in stone. It’s only after the leap that the
frog makes a splash. But by then, the frog has already moved on … hopefully,
the reader will always be left wondering where the frog will pop up next.
Gazing
calm
mind into
brushstrokes.
.JPG) |
| ... Now (2024) |
Addendum: Style and Structure, including a brief note on 5-7-5
Now that Shinobazu Pond 俳句 has been up and running for several months, I should probably add a footnote to explain its morphology for those who might be curious.
Each blog post or ‘Leaf’ is posted daily. They are numbered chronologically, i.e. – simply as they are posted. The numbering acts purely as an easy means of reference for me as the author. However, after this number, each Leaf is given a brief thematic description. Some of these, such as ‘Remembrance’ will hopefully be fairly self-explanatory. Others may benefit from a little further elucidation here. The majority are described as either ‘Looking Back’ or ‘Reflections.’ The difference between the two is quite subtle and there is a large degree of overlap, but essentially the difference is this: ‘Looking Back’ are poems which are based on, or refer to, a specific memory of time or place which is fairly concrete. ‘Reflections’ tend to be more abstract or more fluid, and so could apply to any time or place found in general. But hopefully this distinction won’t bother the reader too much because, as I say, the difference is fairly arbitrary and probably only really matters to me as the author.
‘Art Inspired’ are poems which reflect on, or were inspired by, someone else’s artwork. These other artworks could be a poem or another form of writing, such as a short story or a novel, or it could be a piece of music or a musical performance, or a photograph, or, in the majority of instances, it’s most likely to be a painting.
‘Homeward Bound’ is something of a pun, in that these poems are primarily concerned with my hometown, or the other places where I have subsequently lived but since moved on from. In this sense, they are about making a return journey of some sort (mostly in mind and memory, but also about making a physical return journey too on some occasions). Yet they are also a reflection upon how a part of ourselves remains forever tied to those places which mean something special to us. Hence the double meaning of ‘bound.’
Another category perhaps worth highlighting here is described as ‘Essays on Haiku.’ There aren’t many of these, and, as I said above, I’m not overly concerned with dogma and didactic rules. A syllable count of 5-7-5 when writing in English is not necessarily the norm, and most of my haiku are ‘free form’ in this regard. Clarity and concision are generally regarded by most established haiku magazines and anthologies (both in print and on-line) as more important than syllable count. Particularly because the phonology of English means that a blind adherence to the 5-7-5 rule usually results in poems which are overly wordy in comparison to their Japanese counterparts, and so they all too easily lose something vital in both cadence and ethos in this regard. That said though, sometimes 5-7-5 does work well, and I have certainly written a few in my time – so I am not wholly averse to them. It’s much harder to write proper 5-7-5 haiku in Japanese though. And, as this blog already amply attests, I have attempted to do this myself and will continue to do so too. Hopefully, one day my Japanese will be good enough for me to write decent haiku in Japanese. Until then though, I will continue to study and continue to persevere – がんばりましょう!
Likewise, I should probably add a note about my use of the term ‘senryu’ – which is perhaps a little at odds with its common usage by the majority of today’s haiku poets writing in English. Most poets seem to use the term indiscriminately to refer to any kind of human foible or perspective, however, I tend to prefer R.H. Blyth’s definition of senryu as being haiku-like poems which are more focussed upon being playful and humorous in intention. To my mind, poems which aim at something more profound or moving in terms of their subject or sentiment are proper haiku – regardless as to whether they are concerned purely with people or the natural world, so there shouldn’t really be a distinction.
(Another way in which I buck the prevailing modern trend is in my use of capitalisation and punctuation. I use capitals, commas, dashes and full stops purely and simply because I personally prefer the old, Blyth-like style of presentation. However, I will happily adapt to “house rules” whenever my poems are published in poetry magazines, because – to be honest – it’s not something I am overly precious about.)
Generally, I find it quite hard to categorise the great majority of my poems specifically because I always seem to find there is a grey area where themes, sentiments, ideas and metaphors tend to overlap or impinge upon one another. Hence, I am also very aware that it’s not always easy to identify a concrete kigo or ‘season marker’ in my poems. In terms of craft, this is very much something which I need to study and think about more consciously when I am writing. There is always room for improvement, as I am sure any haiku master from the time of Bashō right up to today would agree. And that is my main purpose in writing and publishing this blog – as a means of growing through practice, hopefully sparking inspiration and sharing insights learned along the way.
