editors' picks from I-1

editors' pick
Mark's pick | Alan's pick | Serge's pick | Carmen's pick

In this new feature, the editors, as a group, will pick one haiku from the previous issue as the overall favorite. We'll each try to explain what we like about it and why we picked it. Then, on the second page of this feature, we will each pick an individual favorite from the previous issue and try to explain our choices.

first snow / the baby totters out / after rainbows

My pick of the issue. Linda Robeck's haiku demonstrates the gleefulness of a child for whom the act of searching is the pot of gold.

I imagine the toddler bundled up tightly in her first winter coat, enjoying her first snow. Where are the rainbows? Where do they come from? Let's catch one!

editors' pick
Mark's pick | Alan's pick | Serge's pick | Carmen's pick

laundromat / a faded ladybug / in the soap box

Why is this a favourite of mine? Well, it has the subject of insects, very haiku for a start. And something most of us do in the Western world, go to the laundromat! A haiku is most successful, I feel, if it contains an experience most of us share. There is also, to my mind, a touch of irony in that washing powders are supposed to keep colours bright and white whiter than white. Well, it took a humble ladybug to show that isn't quite accurate. The damned products are usually unnecessarily packed with chemicals that are not so good for us.

Cindy says of her haiku:

"This actually came from an experience of the great flood of '93. Our basement flooded from a creek in our previous home at Old Smizer Mill Road. We could not use the washing machine or dryer so it was a trip to the laundromat for weeks on end. To save money, I brought my own soap. And in one of the my comings and goings a dried up ladybug fell out. It was just a shell of its former self. A pale orange, almost yellow. In the laundromat they have a TV. And when I went during the daytime those soap operas would always be on. The other 'ladies' would have objected if I dared to change the channel."

editors' pick
Mark's pick | Alan's pick | Serge's pick | Carmen's pick

spring frost-- / the park cannon aimed / at the church

I like :

— the global feeling of coolness and silence. Coolness by the use of 'frost', but also the "unspoken" bronze of the cannon, and the freshness of a park. The silence, because of the frosty morning, the old cannon, but also the church and the park (generally a quiet place in a noisy town). The silence hidden in the cannon image, just the image of noise.

— the immobility of the scene. Frost is an image for motionless 'frosted' things. The bronze of the cannon is also such an image. This feeling is enhanced by the arrangement of the objects. The cannon aimed at the church. No action. Too late for action, it is an old cannon. But it remains the 'souvenir" the potentiality of an action. The mind extrapolates from the place of the arrangement and continues the absent action. Nothing happens but the things are in place.

— the opposition between two important objects, images of major archetypes. The power of men and the power of God. Nothing happens, but... Opposition. Perhaps the frost is there to 'put to sleep', like in that tale in which all the country was 'frozen' in sleep.

— the structure. I like this 'elliptical' structure without a conjugated verb. It creates a very light impression, a painting by touches.

— the openess. The situation is clear, and everything is said at the first reading. But nothing is quite said, leaving everything open to the reader

— this indefinable feeling of the old things. sabi. That master touch .

— the physical contact of the cold bronze.

I think we find here a very good use of the words to illustrate three concepts: silence, immobility, and coolness.

editors' pick
Mark's pick | Alan's pick | Serge's pick | Carmen's pick

last light / the path from the monastery / to the ice cream store

Timothy has succeeded in composing a mysterious haiku with a delightful twist. Each line is crafted well. A nature lover and procrastinator waits till the "last light" to enjoy the scenery. Passing through the silent monastery grounds, the reader follows down the path. So far, the scene is satisfying in an esoteric sense. Whether one envisions this as a zen monastery or a Christian one, there is an air of austerity and peace. Then suddenly, the door is open to the bright lights of the local ice cream store. Timothy humanizes this person, who has probably just eaten a sparse meal of vegetables and nuts, by adding the simple act of craving ice cream.

editors' pick
Mark's pick | Alan's pick | Serge's pick | Carmen's pick