Early spring morn —
again, that pair of silent crows
atop the old pine
A black caterpillar
eating a big taro leaf —
the long dry spell …………………………. (Yoshiharu Kondo)
Wandering at night
I see my father’s face in
an old cobblestone.
A lonely thatched hut
two poets shared—one leaving,
one staying behind. …………………………………. (Maria Lin)
The smell of honeysuckle …
the night lights up
with first lightning bolts ……………………. (Julia Guzman)
The Kansai region of Western Japan was hit by a damaging earthquake (mag. 5.5) on 18 June, then by a monsoon-ending deluge on 5-7 July, and has been gripped by a severe heatwave ever since. 19 July saw 40 degrees C in Kyoto. The only respite in temperature was the typhoon of 28-29 July, which was cruel in its own way. I compiled a haiku sequence from recent work by 15 Hailstone poets in order to commemorate the fearsome summer we have had so far. You’ll see that haiku poets find ways to ‘coast’ between the ‘rolls’. (SHG)
QUAKE (4)
morning birdsong
in the monsoon garden:
epicentre
right beneath my pillow! Hisashi
35 floors up
an earthquake rocks
and rumbles –
it clutches my heart Sydney
summer earthquake –
ground spangled with glass,
sky full of stars Mizuho
after the tremor
healing my unease,
the fragrant white gardenia Hiroko
RAINS (9)
broken muzzles
of the shrine’s stone foxes –
the rainy season returns Yaeno
gray rain-screen,
a fear of floods …
yet a kingfisher
blesses the pond Teruko
endless rain –
in our entrance hall
a large garden spider
now resides! Tito
to this land of
green ears of rice,
the Thunder God’s
long siege Hitomi
helicopter hovering
by people on a rooftop –
never-ending rain Kyoko
a village
obliterated by the rains –
a cicada’s chant Mayumi K.
the rain eases …
along a path between paddies
coloured umbrellas move Takashi
jumping into the puddle
with his tiny boots on
the wrong feet –
the rains let up Hisako
monsoon away –
new sunlight on the girl
in the red coupé Akira
HEAT (6)
leaving for work –
the heatwave,
no longer air at all
but wall Tito
crimson coins of blood
on the bike park floor:
the heatstruck lad
clasps his nose Ursula
on the fence
two turtledoves out of breath …
sagging grasses Branko
fierce sunlight –
a bitter gourd hanging down
like Godzilla’s tail ………………………………………….. Mayumi S.
the brook at my feet
murmuring away heat –
the mountain peak ahead Akira
the sun beat down …
but, slowly now, enjoying
the long night wine Hiroko
Takahama-Ōi 高浜町ー大飯郡 district of Wakasa Bay, Fukui Pref. We travelled there and back in three cars.
Nov. 11 (Sat.) – a clutch of nine poets congregated on a day of autumn showers: the six men scaling the heights of Aobayama (693m) for five rigorous hours, while the three women enjoyed the more sedate pleasures of the mountain-foot herb garden. The evening culminated, at Loghouse Akioya, in a rollicking poetry reading of the day’s experiences, that some haijin of earlier centuries might surely have related to.
Nov. 12 (Sun.) – the following morning, as the sun came out, we composed further haiku near the site of Takahama Castle and the eroded arch of Meikyodo beside the Japan Sea’s pounding surf. Two cars then drove over to Ōshima on the leeward side of the Ōi Peninsular, where a harbour stroll was had.
Here follows a selection of our poems, in rough sequential order, with each poet represented.
greeting five hundred
invisible bears
between Kyoto and the sea
……………………….. Ursula
empty forest —
one bird sings
to the steady rain
……………………….. David McC.
here
at the edge of the world
all things are covered in gold —
the sound of bamboo grass
rustling
……………………….. David
tangle of grasping roots —
frozen struggle
of a mountain-top tree
……………………….. William
a friendly hand
wet from rain
pulls me over
the abyss
……………………….. David
at our first proud summit,
the faded clipping:
“Old Man Climbs A Thousand Times”
……………………….. Richard D.
somewhere through
this mountain’s heart —
the sea, crashing
……………………….. Tito
slippery path:
our feet swallowed
by coloured leaves
……………………….. Branko
long legs
short legs
three legs
arse slide
……………………….. Tito
descending Mt Aoba,
light rain turns to hail:
a whispered goodbye
……………………….. Richard
two claps, two bows:
imparting to the god
my full name
and postal code
……………………….. Branko
between this world and the next —
a gateway framing sky and sea
……………………….. Tomiko
by the slack silver harbour
a fisherman offers me his rod —
I catch his smile
……………………….. Tito
a globefish
dances around my float:
its tantalising orbit
……………………….. Tomo
acorns scattered
all over the herb garden —
immune from the nuclear plant?
……………………….. Kyoko
raucous poets —
hold the pickled mackerel,
pass the persimmon liqueur!
……………………….. Ursula
autumn mountain jaunt —
honouring my ursine name
with bear-like sleep
……………………….. Ursula
*slideshow photos by Tito, Branko, William, Richard & David
Bringing to mind
both classical
and modern tales—
two persimmons ……………………. Mizuho Shibuya
29 Oct. 2017 – in the grip of yet another typhoon, 27 poets gathered at Rakushisha in Western Kyoto to celebrate the launch of our latest anthology, ‘Persimmon’, a collection of haiku by 60 poets, a haibun by Sosui and two rensaku featuring stanzas by multiple authors … and more besides. Rakushisha is known in English as ‘the House of Fallen Persimmons’, and its former owner, Basho’s disciple Mukai Kyorai, once ironically referred to himself as a kakinushi, a ‘Master of Persimmons’.
Having stacked our umbrellas and shed our waterproofs and soggy shoes, Richard Donovan welcomed us and proposed the kampai toast. Stephen Gill then explained how the book came about and thanked those who had assisted him with its production and with the happy launch itself. The persimmon is both homely and transporting (柿は心を和むと同時に別世界に連れて行ってくれる), he pointed out.
Later, we conducted a short kukai using a section of the book, entitled ‘Calendar Says’. It was won in absentia by Nobuyuki Yuasa for the following haiku:
…. Petals are all gone …
…. time for me now to enjoy
…. blossoms in my heart …………………… Sosui
Runner-up was Branko Manojlovic with:
………………………………….. Hideyoshi’s tomb–
………………………………….. nobody sweeps here
.. but the April wind
The rain and the wind kindly abated to allow us a much drier journey home, albeit through puddles and under low, black, scudding, twilight clouds.
The book has 152 pages and costs ￥1,300 ($12). Details of how to order have been posted on our Publications page.
Bright snowy mountains
came into my eyes –
silent morning
……………………. Mayumi K.
Prior to Sunday February 12th, Kyoto had seen intermittent snow for two days and nights, much of the city having been shrouded in white. A poetic adventure invariably on his mind, it didn’t take long for Tito to come up with an idea for a snow-viewing meet at two famous ponds in Saga. In spite of very short notice, six haiku wanderers showed up on what turned out to be a mostly dry and breezy Sunday. The snowfall, alas, had petered out by the early morning hours. All we were left with was white mountain-tops and an occasional patch of unmelted snow to marvel at along the way.
The shrine grove
still holding snow –
the wicked sun
……………………. Tito
Four of us started our walk at Daikaku-ji in Ukyo ward, where a small shrine dedicated to Sugawara Michizane (Tenjin-san), the Japanese God of Poetry, sits on an island in Osawa Pond.
Praying for snow
before a toneless bell
of Tenjin-san
……………………. Branko
Nearby, a plum orchard, barely in bloom, was a welcome sight.
a day of teasing snow –
the small white buds
on this plum tree
……………………. Duro
Years ago, Tito used to live just around the corner from Daikaku-ji and, needless to say, knows the surrounding area like the back of his hand. He was kind enough to provide us with lots of information on local history, both ancient and recent. One such point of interest was a group of burial mounds (‘Kitasaga Shichi Kofun’) dotting the rural landscape of vegetable plots and rice-fields. After clawing our way to the top of one such tumulus, we were astonished to find a great number of badger burrows, some of them freshly dug. From each emanated a strong animal scent, and it was safe to say the nocturnal creatures were better off inside the mound than we were, standing frozen on its windy top.
Below the frost line
the ancient tomb
reclaimed by badgers
……………………. Branko
Without restraint
beating its own drum:
a speedwell
out-of-season
……………………. Tomiko
More plodding through the fields, soggy with snow-melt, and the four who began at Daikaku-ji eventually reached Hirosawa Pond … for a perfectly timed rendezvous with Hitomi and Duro (Gerald). This pond is emptied every December and was that day still partly water-less, a landscape dotted with wading birds foraging across the shallows and mudflats.
Hirosawa Pond –
left and right
high over fish shadows
an osprey hovering
…………………….. Hitomi
a famous pond
drained for the winter –
such hollow dreams
…………………….. Duro
Our final stop was a rather stylish Japanese restaurant, a 15-minute walk from Hirosawa Pond. Have you ever dined at a place frequented by members of royal families? Well, apparently this was such a place! On the walls, large photos recorded visits from the Cambodian and Burmese Royal Families, those of Mongolian dignitaries, and even one from a Ugandan chieftain.
Looking at
framed pictures of royalty …
my oyster curry arrives
……………………. Tito
After a lengthy meal and a productive and fun haiku sharing, we had a group photo taken in the garden outside. No sooner had we said goodbye, than snow began to fall again!
* click on any photo to see it enlarged *
cold morning moon
streaks of cloud discreetly veil
an absent face
K.B. Nelson
bare branches –
I carry the bin across light
scattered on gravel
Diarmuid Fitzgerald
a kestrel stoops –
the cutting edge
of a shakuhachi
Theresa Cancro
mounted on a rusted pole a rain-beat flag
Payal Aggarwal
First day of spring —
a stray monkey swaying
on the top of a pine
Yoshiharu Kondo
Asuka (or Tōtsu ‘Distant’ Asuka, in Nara prefecture), Japan’s first state capital, is a name to conjure with, though few perhaps will have heard of Chikatsu Asuka (‘Nearby’ Asuka, in Osaka prefecture), through which the Takenouchi Kaidō passes on its way from Naniwa. This was Japan’s first state road, plied by emperors and emissaries as they travelled between Yamato and the kingdoms of Korea and empires of China further to the west. Naniwa (Osaka) was the entry/exit port.
Autumn clouds
sailing in the shape of
an ancient mission boat ……………. Miki
Day 1. November 12th , Bashō’s death anniversary and the first day of this year’s Hailstone Autumn Haike, had us passing through a landscape dominated by huge, moated imperial tumuli and early Buddhist temples that had seen better days. At the first of these, Fujiidera, a prayer for our journey in clouds of incense smoke. At another,
Someone tolling
the Yachūji bell:
by my feet, a few
rustling leaves ……………. Branko
One tumulus we rested beside was Shiratori no Misasagi (the White Bird Tumulus) made in the fifth century for Prince Yamatotakeru, perhaps the greatest of the Yamato heroes, whose exploits are recorded in the Kojiki. When he died, his spirit became a swan, and we were amazed to see some large swan haniwa (terracotta statues) in an archaeological display nearby. We paid our respects to him at nearby Shiratori Shrine.
The Takenouchi Kaidō proved somewhat difficult to follow in places, and we had to use a combination of maps, GPS and talking to the locals to navigate through the surprisingly urban first few hours. Richard’s hard work and a measure of good fortune allowed us to eat our packed lunches in a pleasant autumn-tinted park neatly sandwiched between a sewage works and a rubbish incineration plant!
We had just crossed the Ishikawa River on Garyū Bridge, from where we had spied the twin peaks of Mt. Futagami (Nijō) and a more rural, hilly landscape up ahead. Blessed with an idyllic ‘Indian summer’ day.
In the time it took him
to count the three clouds …
there were only two ……………. Tito
Found the rather creepy Morimoto Jinja, but overlooked, alas, its mysterious rat-headed courtier stone, Hayato-ishi.
Bare lightbulbs hanging
where lanterns used to be —
neglected shrine ……………. Candace
As the afternoon wore on and our feet began to get weary, golden vine leaves appeared beside the road. Although the harvest was already in, we did not need the signboards for ‘Asuka Wine’ to know that we were entering a land of grapes. The vines scrolling around their metal frames reminded some of us of the seventh century budō karakusa patterns on the black bronze Buddha’s pedestal in Nara’s Yakushiji. Around 3, we picked up Kyoko at Kaminotaishi Station.
The man perhaps most responsible for the introduction of Buddhism to Japan was Prince Shōtoku, and it was to his final resting place at Eifukuji Temple that we were now headed – uphill. The spacious temple precincts command a fine view out across the Valley of Kings and its imperial mausolea.
So still at Eifukuji:
only the huge sun sinking
behind the pagoda ……………. Branko
Down some steep steps … and up another flight beyond, brought us to the little nunnery of Saihōin, our last port of call for the day. The bus from the hotel soon came to collect us.
The nuns have left
the gate open wide –
November moon ……………. Tito
Taishi Onsen was where we bedded down for the night, now joined by David, who had walked up from the railway station through late afternoon fields. The hot-spring waters and the local food and wine set us up for an open-mic haiku sharing.
Reciting the day’s poems
with a karaoke echo:
last of the autumn wine ……………. Richard
Day 2. The 13th dawned, crisp and clear.
Morning bath
in the open air,
a yellow leaf falling
as I close my eyes ……………. Miki
At Kaminotaishi Station we waited for the arrival of the Osaka train and found Akira and Shigeko almost immediately. Somehow, though, Hisashi slipped through the radar and had a quiet smoke just behind us while others continued to hunt for him! The ten of us proceeded eastwards along the Kaidō, paralleling the glittering Asuka Stream.
Now I am alone
but the snowflies
have found their sunbeam ……………. David
Passing the thatched roof of the Yamamoto House, we climbed a lane to the humble but commendable Historical Museum of the Takenouchi Road. Inside, many were entranced by a holographic presentation of local history, which even introduced Bashō ghosting his way through the area!
In clearing the loose rock
he trips on another –
a path through autumn hills ……………. Tito
Arrival at the busy fishing pond of Dainichi. A short rest, and then a stiff climb over Mt. Futagami, decked in its November best. Lunch was taken on a rocky peak with marvellous views back towards Fujiidera, from where the walk had begun.
Bending in the wind
tall pampas grass:
we vote for a left turn ……………. Branko
Somewhere between the 13-tiered solid stone pagoda of Rokutanji and Iwaya Pass on this, the 13th of the month, u n f o r t u n a t e l y we got lost. To reconnoitre, both Richard and David hared off up different rocky paths. The former came back to tell us that he’d met an old man who had warned him, “You’ll never get through before dark!” We descended the mountain as far as Route 166 and slogged along it to Takenouchi Pass.
Bashō’s checkpoint:
on the Nara side
smoother asphalt ……………. Branko
A pleasant descent past a large pond with a kingfisher … to the outskirts of Takenouchi village. There, we debated the merits of making a detour to take in the Hakuhō period temple of Taimadera, along the so-called “Bashō Path”. David voted with his feet, and we were soon all off behind him!
A farmer’s
long-winded explanation
about the highway shortcut –
Indian summer ……………. Hisashi
At the temple, we prayed before its main image, the huge tapestry-weave Taima Mandala of Amitabha’s Pure Land. Hisashi writes, “The precincts were packed, as that day local agricultural cooperatives were holding an autumn fair. Caught in the crowd, I was attracted by a dry, leafless plant a metre long, carried by a young girl and bearing on its tips fluffy white cotton seeds. I recalled that Taimadera was adjacent to the district of traditional cotton production in Osaka. I imagined the girl would go home with the plant and arrange it carefully in her tatami-mat room.”
Leaves of foreign words
floating away
In the autumn breeze ……………. Miki
We hurried back to Takenouchi and there, altering our pace, began to amble down, backs to the sunset, through the hometown of Bashō’s early travel companion, Naemura Chiri. It seems not to have greatly changed since the visits of the haiku master: an evocative place. In 1684, accompanied by Chiri on his journey of the ‘Weather-exposed Skeleton’, Bashō had stayed at the house of the village headman, Aburaya Ki’emon, and complimented him with the hokku
Watayumi ya / biwa ni nagusamu / take no oku
The cotton-beating bow –
as pleasing as the plucking of a lute
deep in the bamboo
A cotton-growing area indeed.
Hanging above
our full array of grins,
a line of drying onions ……………. Tito
After a group photo (see the slideshow), and a short reading by Stephen of Bashō’s haibun and verse related to the area, we meandered along our final stretch of the Kaidō towards its junction with the Katsuragi Road at Nagao Shrine. Looking back, we could see the range we had come over – Kongo, Katsuragi, Futagami – a rearing mountain wave against the afterglow. Prayers of thanks for safe completion of our journey. From Iwashiro Station, the train-ride home.
Nara Basin –
stubble smoke rising
from the end of
the Silk Road ……………. Akira
