Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Rather like ‘hell’ in the mainstream Christian churches, the term ‘haiku moment’ is one you are unlikely to come across very often these days. Not quite so seemingly out of favour, however, is the traditional insistence that a haiku, in order to justify that designation, must be based on real experience, an actual moment of heightened awareness which is then recorded objectively and without any literary adornment. Indeed, the haiku might be said to be ‘given’ or virtually to ‘write itself for the poet. He or she is thus little more than an intermediary, an agent whose role is to convey the insightful moment direct to the reader.

In contrast, there are bogus versions of the genre. Adopting the outward trappings of haiku, these seek to seduce the reader into believing that they too have their source in an unexpected moment of intense perception, a moment of disinterested enlightenment, when in fact they are simply a product of the writer’s imagination. These are dismissed by the purist as synthetic imitations of the real thing, mere ‘desk haiku’ unworthy of our attention.

It was while musing over this supposed dichotomy that I found myself wondering just how many of the haiku which I (and countless others) have admired and enjoyed reading over the years would remain in existence if some purist arbiter were suddenly given the power (and the desire) to eliminate from the world all those which in some way failed to meet the criteria of ‘objectively recording an unguarded moment of real experience.’

There can be no answer to that question because, if we leave aside those haiku and Senryu which are clearly and unashamedly contrived and ‘artificial’ by intent, I firmly believe there is no totally certain method of identification which would enable our purist to divide the ‘false’ haiku from the ‘real’.

I decided to look back at some of my own published pieces and, out of curiosity, try to categorise them on a ‘sheep or goats’ basis. The first group were those I was sure were firmly grounded in my own real experience and recorded ‘straight’, with no literary tinkering or accretions over time. The second group consisted of poems I immediately recognised as ‘desk haiku’ - inventions, products of my imagination.

However, I soon found it necessary to start a third category - for those which, while based on actual observation, a real experience, had perhaps an imagined detail or angle added for heightened effect, perhaps a secondary image to complement the original one - or some other ‘excusable’ adulteration of the poem’s initial authenticity! This, in fact, was my ‘in-betweens’ group, neither sheep nor goats.

I suspect that many, if not most, haiku writers who subjected their published work to similar scrutiny would find that, like me, a surprisingly large proportion of it belonged in the ‘in-between’ category - not 100% ‘given’, not sheer invention, but somewhere along the line between the two.

Any Blithe Spirit readers who might happen to believe that they can, in fact, readily distinguish between ‘genuine’ haiku and the ‘desk’ variety are invited to participate in the little exercise that follows - a sort of haiku parlour game for one, two or more players (and I am of necessity using my own work because I would not presume to categorise the haiku of others!). The poems are numbered and the challenge is to place each one in its appropriate category. For simplification, the categories are: A = ‘Genuine’; B = ‘Desk haiku’; C = ‘In-betweens’.

These poems have previously appeared in Aabye, acorn book of contemporary haiku, Blithe Spirit, Frogpond, From the Ninth Star on the Left (Snapshot Press), HQ Poetry Magazine, Presence, Snapshots and Time Haiku. Play the game before turning the page!

Check your answers now! A: 4, 5, 8; B: 1, 6, 7, 9; C: 2, 3, 10, 11

So what about entry number 12? Blatant anthropomorphism, you may say, and therefore clearly belonging in category B. But let’s look a little closer. My wife and I were in the garden one morning when she called to draw my attention to what she described as ‘a late daffodil’. I turned to view it and simultaneously there sprang into my mind the image of a flower which, having been detained for some reason, had now suddenly turned up very late, looking flustered and dishevelled and perhaps wondering why all its expected companions had already gone. I didn’t create this image, nor the rather ridiculous flight of fancy that accompanied it; I didn’t invent it - it was given, arriving unsought and quite unsullied by any interference from my conscious self. I did not inject that anthropomorphic element into it - it was already there in the original package.

So, not really a ‘desk haiku’, surely? Perhaps, then, an ‘in-between’? Again, it was too spontaneous, too immediate, to allow for any enhancement or ‘touching-up’ for effect; I simply ‘told it as it was’. So, could this be an example of the genuine article, the fruit of an authentic haiku moment? Or was it just a ‘moment’ but not a ‘haiku’ one? It is said that haiku must be ‘real’. Well, this was indeed ‘real’ - but the reality was inside my head rather than outside it. That, presumably, means it cannot be worthy of the haiku appellation, because what goes on in your head isn’t real reality, is it? Or - is it?