I love the subtle meanings, the economy, and the deceptively simple form of haiku poetry. They are the kind of poem you have to lean in close and let it whisper to you and, if you're like me, you still can't hear the important parts half the time. If you're in a hurry, they sound ridiculous. Read the same haiku in a more thoughtful mood, and there's nothing more profound. One of my favorites is this one by Shuson Kato:
I kill an ant
and realize my three children
have been watching.
What a beautiful and simple reminder that our children watch and are influenced by even the smallest of our actions. All of that in just seventeen syllables! (Since this was translated from the original Japanese, the number of syllables is not the same in English).
I stumbled onto a handful of haikus I'd written over the years while thumbing back through some of my old journals, and I thought I'd post at least one a day for the next seven days. This first one I wrote while sitting on a park bench outside the Brigham City Tabernacle. From this park bench, I had a perfect view of the east side of the L.D.S. temple and it's fountain. Unfortunately, between the temple and me was a very busy street. Here it is:
The serene sound of
The temple’s stone fountain hides
Between passing cars.
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| Photo: Jon Adams See more of his beautiful photography at reflectedpixel.com |
I'll post another haiku tomorrow.
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