Right on the cusp between winter and spring, Hailstone Haiku Circle has launched an Instagram page! We begin with a haipho (haiku photograph) of cherry blossom in snow. Special thanks are due to Jun Tsutsumi and Anna Shershnyova for their collaboration with getting this started. Branko Manojlovic will also become an editor. This team will decide what to feature, as well as monitor comments and answer enquiries. Please visit and follow us here: https://www.instagram.com/hailstonehaiku/
(Click on the photo to enlarge)
This haiku was written for my wife Kazue in Oka, Asuka on 12th March this year. The lilac mountain is Mt. Katsuragi, climbed by 10 Hailstone poets last October on our annual autumn haike. The spot where I took this photo is the site of the stable in which Prince Umayado (厩戸皇子) was born in 574. As “Shotoku Taishi” he later helped to create the first Buddhist temples in Japan, one of which, Tachibanadera (橘寺), was founded nearby. Our home is 5 minutes walk from here.
Many people ask how we are faring, so far now from the cities of Osaka and Kyoto. The answer, I think, is held in the last word of this haiku, ‘glows’. We both feel a new joy deep inside, bolstered by making lots of new Nara friends. I strolled around the rock sites of Amanokaguyama (天香具山) with one the other day. Densely mysterious! A bush warbler sings outside our window. A stream gurgles, too. Spring rains are almost here.
Hailstone’s next event, on the 25th, is to be held in nearby Ouda (大宇陀), but later in the year we hope to invite haiku poets to visit the old capital of Asuka, too.
Fine as rice bran
the hillside rain:
tram station
in the woods
…. (Tito)
6 March, a day of lively weather. Three women, three men start out from Ninose heading upstream along the Kurama River. Two of the women have been ‘awarded’ martenitsa* brooches, sent to Tito a few days earlier by haiku poet-artist Venelina Petkova. On spying her first flowering tree of spring, the recipient must take it off and make a wish. But, on a day in which snow is in the forecast, will the two women get to see any blossom?
below the graveyard —
a fisherman casts
one shining line
…. (David)
After less than a mile, walking towards us come two more men – a father and son. The party of eight, now complete, soon passes another white paper-trimmed ritual wheel* as we enter the village of Kurama.
a flurry of snow
disappears in deep forest —
stippled sunshine
…. (Akihiko)
Sakuramochi* are bought and eaten at the foot of the broad steps leading up to Yuki Shrine, famed for its October Fire Festival. Eighth century priest, Saicho, had had a vision of Yakushi, the Medicine Buddha, near here, so the pass over which we must now trudge goes by the name of Yakkozaka-toge 薬王坂峠, Medicine King Pass.
a tit’s chirp
opens the blue sky —
that spring blue!
…. (Akihiko)
Descending steeply to the northwest, we come upon the village of Shizuhara.
One after the other
Snow and sunlight —
A white plum blooms
…. (Mayumi K.)
the high village
gusted by March wind —
peach blossom
…. (David)
Martenitsas have now been taken off and wishes made! The sky gods seem to be sparring – Rain, Sleet, Hail, Snow, Sun and Wind. Having first dutifully prayed at the village shrine, we seek shelter from another shower at a pavilion housing, amongst other things, New Year’s rice-straw cast-offs. We eat the lunches we have brought and enjoy the meteorological show. There is even a hint of a sleet-bow.
From blue skies
the Milky Way’s descended …
as a river of snow
…. (Margarite)
Three old cedars
reaching for the sky:
their heaven,
their earth
…. (Margarite)
We cross Shizuhara River on a bridge, the rounded granite outcrops of Mt. Kompira looming up ahead. The valley along which we are now walking soon closes down again, and the Isshu Trail begins a second climb – Ebumi Pass 江文峠.
Cresting the pass …
feeling the windblown snowflakes
smart on my face
…. (Tito)
After a wild descent, the Vale of Ohara now opens out before us. David takes us to Ebumi Shrine, to see the giant cryptomeria*, which wears a long sacred rope around its massive bole.
The moss-covered steps
To an ancient shrine —
Early spring snow
…. (Mayumi K.)
Giving thanks for the safe completion of this leg of our Kyoto mountain circuit, we head off along drystone walls and peer through the village gates of Ohara, our destination, catching glimpses of corners of gardens. Ahead of us rise the ramparts of Mt. Hiei; behind us, away to the north, the distant snowy ghost of Mt. Hira. The Takano River accompanies us with its merriment.
At the bus-stop, all perhaps now feel the glow of having lived with the Elements for a day in early March.
* Notes:
ritual wheel – (featured in the slideshow) indicating a prayer station for the Fire Festival
martenitsa – see here
sakuramochi – rice-cake stuffed with sweet azuki-bean paste and wrapped in a fragrant cherry-leaf
cryptomeria – sugi, a type of giant conifer
Sun. 7 March 16:00 (JST). 14 Hailstones and special guest, Michael D. Welch, came together to read haiku, senryu, cirku, tanka, haibun and haipho. Each poet was given up to 5 mins. The share-screen function proved useful in allowing us to see the words that were being read. Host, David McCullough, had collected most things in advance and made a pdf file to use. It was also good to be able to appraise visual material like photo haiku or illustrations explaining haiku (e.g. seasonal flowers). The theme was introduced by chair-for-the-day, Tito, who first read us an excerpted translation by Nobuyuki Yuasa of Kikaku’s account of Basho’s Final Days, Basho-o Shuenki, including his death and funeral and the beginnings of the Basho School 蕉門 — for endings invariably lead to beginnings, and vice versa.
なきがらを笠に隠すや枯尾花 （其角）
A hat to cover
the body of our master,
withered pampas leaves (Kikaku)
Sean O’Connor, editor of The Haibun Journal and judge of the Genjuan Contest, joining us from Ireland, next read a short sequence of haiku.
from my father’s bed
familiar mountains
wrapped in snow
Hitomi Suzuki followed with two beautiful haipho. Here is one (click on photo to enlarge):
David McCullough then read four short poems, one of which was on the theme of the first mile of running a marathon:
Panting —
hundreds
of
feet
pattering
It was interesting that two more poets – Noriko Kan and Akihiko Hayashi – also shared running or jogging haiku later on! Genjuan judge, Akiko Takazawa, also still runs marathons, but unfortunately she could not be present at the meet.
Ursula Maierl next entertained us with her heartfelt haibun, ‘The Final Baguette’, about two customers splitting the last loaf in a bread shop at the end of day!
one small baguette
stands upright —
lone sentinel
half-wrapped in brown paper
Mayumi Kawaharada then read a sequence of haiku, ‘Freeze – Under Covid-19’:
Tourist-less road —
Frozen shutters
Left in the silence
Reiko Kuwataka’s poem provoked some discussion – haiku in form, but tanka in sentiment:
A long time
since I last saw her —
high cloud, overcast
Tito then showed us some cirku made into haipho. (Mistletoe is ヤドリギ in Japanese; click on photo to enlarge.)
Kyoko Nozaki made us hungry with her haiku and photo of newly harvested radishes. David Stormer Chigusa (in Tokyo) told us he usually tries to compose haiku using a 4-6-4 consonant template and gave us some recent examples. Akihiko Hayashi reminded us of the approach of the 10th anniversary of the Great Tsunami and Fukushima Meltdown disaster by sharing with us a psychological haiku:
Over unruffled waters
it’s threatening to snow —
‘Emergency!’, the caption unscrolls
Noriko Kan (in Matsuyama) gave us one haiku containing the very contemporary image of masked meditators. Michael Dylan Welch (Washington State, co-founder of Haiku N. America and former ed. of Woodnotes, the journal which had organized in 1996 what was perhaps the world’s first English haibun contest), gave us another memorable coronavirus image:
Covid Christmas —
so few presents
under the tree
We also read aloud poetic offerings sent in by Fred Schofield (Leeds), Catherine Urquhart (Edinburgh) and Akishige Ida (Nara), who were all unable to attend. Sydney Solis (Florida) joined to listen only. Richard Donovan, delayed by another online event, at which he received his recent translation Grand Prix, performed for us a cameo role near the end of the meet.
From England, Lawrence Jiko Barrow joined us at his 7am. His haiku on the theme of ‘beginning’ was:
Arrival of spring —
the banana tree reveals
a bright green shoot
Jiko has recently planted a banana palm in his garden in England. He told us that he hopes it will prompt him to remember Basho (whose name means ‘banana palm’) and to compose haiku a little more frequently! The appearance of the shoot gives us all hope the palm will survive.
Today, the Basho School continues in spirit in many parts of Japan and the world, including through Hailstone, which is based in Kansai, celebrating life in and around Basho’s Shuenchi (Final Territory). We all try to do our best for the Okina 翁 (Master) and what he taught.
.. The rainy season continued until the beginning of August this year.
………………………… though the rain stopped
………………………… the wind roars at night:
………………………… lingering rain front
.. During that long rainy season, I received sad news. One of my cousins had passed away. When I was a little girl, he was kind enough to take care of me, playing chess and Hanafuda. The memory stays with me, emerging today into this deep foggy morning.
………. dense fog
………. even the castle mountain
………. loses its frame
.. Then the severely hot summer came in. But no matter how hot it was, the spread of COVID-19 did not ease.
………………………… meaningless
………………………… as a symbol of the winter,
………………………… facemasks
.. Everyone faithfully wore those masks, feeling almost choked in the middle of the summer.
………. a dry fallen leaf
………. stuck in the scorching asphalt,
………. patience with pride
.. Recently, a huge typhoon passed by. It has made us feel that we may now have taken a step back down the stairs.
………………………… one degree Celsius
………………………… I can tell the difference
………………………… late summer room
On Feb. 11, Tito and I attended a travellers’ luncheon party in Osaka held by 風の旅行社, at which there was a traveller’s fashion contest and a travel photo contest. There were about 35 attendees at the Silk Road restaurant in Juso, each allowed to enter just one ‘work’. Both of us entered a haipho to display in the impromptu exhibition. Tito’s (apparently using a photo taken by Kazue Gill in Nepal on 1 May 2019, the first day of Japan’s new imperial period) won 4th place. Here they are. Click on each one to enlarge.
.
Shobudani Pond, Kyoto, 25.4.20
Hirosawa Pond, Kyoto, 26.2.20
Yamaguni Jinja, Keihokucho, 9.2.20
.. yearend,
.. misting rain bleeds into
.. the rooftop garden
~ click on the photo to enlarge ~
A cirku is a haiku laid out in the form of a circle (to be read clockwise). It should work as a poem from whichever of the three line-spaces you start.
Thus, (reading from the :00 position) ‘long before dawn / a pack of stray dogs / baying me on my way’, or (from the :17 position) ‘a pack of stray dogs / baying me on my way / long before dawn’, or again (from the :38 position) ‘baying me on my way / long before dawn / a pack of stray dogs’: each works. Whichever image comes last is emphasized.
The haiku was written 12 years ago as I night-climbed Lantau Peak (Fung Wong Shan), Hong Kong. The pack of stray dogs was scary, for I was alone, but I made myself think that they were actually cheering me on! I reached the summit (934m) as dawn broke over the South China Sea and took the photo there.
a limpid stream runs
beside the unprofitable railway –
swelling of buds
Icebox 