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| 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 work 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.
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 as simply, swiftly-scribbled platitudes or throw-away aphorisms. Some of my
haiku have been revised and refined over years, but equally others seem to
simply 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.
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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.
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| ... Now (2024) |
