Tanabata

Leaf 79 – Reflections

 

Xu Beihong - Double Happiness (c.1930s-1940s)

Tanabata is celebrated on 7th July, the seventh night of the seventh month. It marks the evening when the star, Altair (the oxherd boy) is thought to cross the Milky Way (the River of Heaven) to join his lover, Vega (the weaver girl), the one night of the year when they are permitted to meet. In some versions of the story, the two lovers are said to take the form of a pair of magpies in order to cross the celestial river that flows unceasingly, high in the heavens.

 

 

TANABATA

 

Journeying through the sky

– starlight, 

glinting off black feathers.

 

 

 

Haeundae, Busan

Leaf 78 – Looking Back

 

Staying at a hotel which was set on the steep hillside, overlooking the bay at Haeundae, Busan in South Korea in 2005, I was often struck by the beauty of the view late at night. Sometimes, such views have the power to simplify everything and reassure us that all’s well with what matters most in our world.

 

 

Straightening the light

of a crescent moon

– the sea at Haeundae.

 

 

 

Photographs by Tim Chamberlain

36,000 Feet

Leaf 77 – Looking Back

 

My old job used to require me to travel a lot by cargo plane. The amenities on such flights are very, very basic. The only entertainment was what you could bring with you in your hand luggage. Such journeys were often long and tiring. But the freedom to look out of the window and simply watch the world go by was often far more interesting and far more relaxing than watching an in-flight movie, or all the other distractions more commonly found on commercial passenger flights.

 

 

36,000 FEET

 

Silver crescent moon,

above the red clouds

of another sunrise.

 

 

Photographs: Tim Chamberlain

Simple Souvenirs

Leaf 76 – Looking Back

 

This was another poem written around the time of my visit to Nara’s Tōdai-ji in January 2004 (see, Leaf 75). I’ve written about simple souvenirs before, because they really are my most favourite way to remember a particular time and place which left a lasting mark in one’s heart. For example, a simple pine cone can become a long treasured memento from a day out with a friend, visiting a special place together (see, Leaf 20). One of my favourite sorts of souvenirs which you can collect in Japan are the souvenir stamps found at railway stations, museums, temples and shrines. They are a great way of illustrating travel jottings and wandering haiku (see, Leaf 73).

 

 

Simple souvenirs

– a red maple leaf,

or a temple hanko

in my notebook.

 

 

Photographs by Tim Chamberlain

Todai-ji, Nara

Leaf 75 – Looking Back

 

Tim Chamberlain - Tōdai-ji, Nara (2004)

This poem was originally published (along with several others of mine) in the Asahi Shimbun’s Haikuist Network, I forget exactly when, but sometime around 2004-2005. Although this was the only one of my poems which was changed by the editor, David McMurray. He changed the words “through the pillar” to “through a gate.” I can perhaps understand why he did so. Presumably it was in order to make the poem less specific and perhaps more universal for the reader to understand, because without knowing it refers to Tōdai-ji in Nara it really doesn’t make much sense. Inside the temple’s Daibutsu-den, or Great Buddha Hall, there is a wooden pillar near the statue which has a large square hole cut through it at floor-level. The hole was probably cut for a wooden beam to pass through it, but for some reason it has remained empty and un-used for a very long time (the temple was last rebuilt/refurbished in 1709). It is said that being able to climb through this hole in the huge pillar will guarantee you a direct passage to paradise in the afterlife – hence, it is not uncommon to see parents watching while their small children try to wriggle their way through the opening. My poem was written having witnessed just such a sight on a cold day back in January 2004.

 

 

TŌDAI-JI, NARA

 

Passing through the pillar

– paradise contained

in a child’s smile.

Book Sale

Leaf 74 – Senryu (or, witty tom-foolery)

 

This poem was written as an attempt to console myself for leaving a book sale empty-handed ...

 

 

Double negative

– 20% off nothing,

still a better saving.

Photographs by Tim Chamberlain

Poems Come and Go

Leaf 73 – Reflections

 

For the best part of twenty years or so, I used to travel frequently and for extended periods as part of my work. I always used to keep notebooks for jotting down ideas, quotations, lists, and various bits of info which I might happen to gather somewhere along the way, but these were always fairly large A5-sized hardback notebooks. Hence when I began to travel more, I started to keep small, slim A6-sized notebooks, the sort that were stitched, with cardboard covers, because I found these handy. They were great for slipping into a pocket when going out for a walk. They soon became filled with Eki stamps, jotted-down poem ideas, and haiku or tanka verses. But there was always a great peril in discovering you’d left your notebook behind when you’d gone out for a day, because having to memorise an idea or a stanza of verse was always a challenge. It was something I found I had to do on more than one occasion though, but sometimes these are good ways of testing whether a poem actually works or is worth remembering and writing down later. Nowadays, of course, I tend to have a mobile phone in my pocket on which I can jot down a note or two if needed. But even still, I do like to leave my phone at home sometimes when I go out – something which might be an unthinkable nightmare for some people! But I do find I hanker for those days long since gone when life was smart-less and undigitized. And I do still like to jot down and work out my poems on paper, and probably always will. Leopards don’t change their spots.

 

 

Travelling –

poems come and go,

before I can write them down.

Photograph by Tim Chamberlain