The challenge of the haiku lies not in what is said, but in what is left unsaid. In 2021, the Society of Classical Poets invited writers from around the globe to condense the vastness of the natural world into seventeen syllables. The response was a deluge of over eight hundred entries, a testament to the enduring power of this ancient Japanese form to capture the fleeting breath of a season.
Bridge by Hiroshige
The Constraint of Infinity
The competition called for a return to traditional parameters, asking poets to paint a picture of nature rather than simply commenting on human foibles. While the modern senryu often leans toward cynicism or humor regarding human nature, the true haiku seeks a connection with the earth.
Entrants were tasked with the classic 5-7-5 syllable structure, a rhythm that forces economy and precision. More importantly, they were asked to include a seasonal reference—a word or image that anchors the poem in a specific moment of the year’s cycle. Whether it was the sharp bite of winter wind or the lazy drone of a summer cicada, these “kigo” (seasonal words) served as the heartbeat of each entry.
The silent pond / a frog jumps in suddenly – / oh, the dancing sky!
A Harvest of Imagery
Scanning through the hundreds of submissions reveals a tapestry of global perspectives. The judge, Margaret Coats, faced the formidable task of sifting through these moments of clarity. The entries ranged from the traditional to the experimental, yet all strove to freeze a specific sensory experience.
One entrant, Paula Hartzenberg, revisited Basho’s famous frog but added a visual twist: as the water breaks, it is the sky reflected on the surface that appears to dance. This shift in perspective—looking down to see what is above—exemplifies the haiku spirit.
Another poet, Martin Rizley, transported the reader to a humid night where moss-draped oaks became whispering ghosts under the moon. The imagery here moves beyond simple observation into the realm of atmosphere, where the natural world begins to speak in hushed tones.
The Seasons in Dialogue
The comments section of the competition became a dialogue between hemispheres. While some writers described the “sibilant sand dunes” and arid winds of a desert summer, others were deep in the throes of winter, writing of “verdant winter gardens” or the “weeping clouds” of a cold December morning.
This juxtaposition highlights the universal language of nature. A poem about a “red-eyed cicada” enjoying the sunshine sits comfortably beside verses detailing the “thick snowflakes at dawn.” The competition proved that while our seasons may differ depending on our latitude, the human impulse to record the changing light, the falling leaf, and the sudden storm remains constant.
The 2021 competition stands as a reminder that in a world of noise, there is profound beauty in brevity. It challenges us to look closer at the moss on the stone, to listen to the silence between thunderclaps, and to find the infinite in a mere seventeen beats.
Bridge by Hiroshige
