Tag: haiku

Five-Seven-Five

Friday, July 31, 2026

Walking to the corner bookstore in 100 degree weather… composing haiku.

Five-Seven-Five

Five-Seven-Five

I wish I knew why – Haiku

Makes no sense at all

Sipping hot coffee

In the middle of summer

Makes no sense at all

Ladies in bookstores

Well read, and so attractive

Often wear glasses

Forgive me if this is not PC — author’s confession

Cicadas

Summer Cicadas

When the sun rises, Summer cicadas are mechanical, persistent, inescapable, until the sun sets.

Like an alarm clock,

Try as I might, I can’t stop.

— Cicadas crying

To Matsuo Bashō the voice of a cicada is quite profound.

静けさや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声

Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe

Ah, such stillness—
The sound of a cicada
sinks into the rocks.

Impermanence is swift

dead cicada skin on tree

In the summer of 1690, Matsuo Basho was 56 years old, staying at the “Unreal Hut” (幻獣庵 Genju-an) beside Lake Biwa near Otsu. He had just completed his long journey that one day would day become, “Oku no Hosomichi” (Journey to the Far North).

all that I see will soon die,
but one finds no sign
in the voice of the cicada
.
やがて死ぬ けしきは見えず 蝉の声
Yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe
Matsuo Basho, Summer of 1690

Basho added this note to the haiku, “無常迅速.”

Impermanence is swift
無常迅速
Mujōjinsoku

An English equivalent, “Here today, gone tomorrow.” Like a cicada, adopt a devil-may-care attitude, don’t worry.

This phrase often appears as 生死事大 無常迅速, (Shōshijidai Mujōjinsoku) meaning living and dying are matters of importance, impermanence is swift.

An English equivalent, “Make the most of your life.”

Note. Those noisy cicadas 蝉 are a bane to those who love silence, but a treat for hungry birds. Patience, dear friend, most of them are gone by the middle of July.

Speak

As you like it:

When the frog meets the pond, when you speak,
Whether you whisper or shout, it’s
— the sound of existence.

— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

Whether you whisper or shout,
When you speak, like the frog and the pond, it’s
— the sound of existence.
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

To write, to be, or not to be, one must write to be.

Fragile as dew on a blade of grass,
Heavy as a stone tossed in a lake,
To be heard one must speak
— Bashō no yōna, Thoughts on Basho’s most well-known haiku

Morning has broken

sunrise over a field -abstract

Morning has broken, five syllables, the beginning of a song by Cat Stevens. Inspiration for a series of haiku. For you. As I sit here at my window, facing east, gazing in the distance, as the sky turns black to blue, then to bright yellow and back to blue.

It’s a new dawn…

1
Quietly I sit
at my window facing east …
the world awakens.

2
A Carolina wren
sings briefly in the dark..
silence takes its place.

3
Night has lost its grip,
black dissolves into pale blue,
soft yellow, bright light.

4
Every color
coming between night and day
the day is becoming.

5
Sun rising slowly,
blinding white for a brief moment
again turning blue.

6
No doubt: I am here,
loving this tender moment
yet it will not last.

7
My dog comes running,
the peace and quiet is undone —
wanting to go out.

8
Yes, I am leaving,
I am forever leaving
but will I come back?

— Bashō no yōna, May 2026

sunrise over a field -abstract