Threaded Moments: Themed Haiku in Sketchbook

by Chen-ou Liu (劉鎮歐)

The haiku included in this document are selected from themed haiku threads

published in Sketchbook between November 2009 and August 2011. Some

of them are accompanied by commentary from the editors.

Short Biography:

Born in Taipei, Taiwan, Chen-ou Liu (劉鎮歐 ) was a college teacher,

essayist, editor, and two-time winner of the national Best Book Review

Radio Program Award. In 2002, he emigrated to Canada and settled in Ajax,

a suburb of Toronto, where he continues to struggle with a life in transition

and translation. Featured in New Resonance 7: Emerging Voices in English-

Language Haiku, Chen-ou Liu is the author of three books: Ripples from a

Splash: A Collection of Haiku Essays with Award-Winning Haiku,

Following the Moon to the Maple Land (forthcoming in October 2011), and

Broken/Breaking English: Selected Short Poems (forthcoming in December

2011). His tanka and haiku have been honored with 21 awards, including

First Prize in the 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest, Grand Prix in the 2010

Klostar Ivanic Haiku Contest in English, and 特選 (Prize Winner) in the

2010 Haiku International Association Haiku Contest. Read more of his

poems at Poetry in the Moment, http://chenouliu.blogspot.com/

Insect / Bug Thread, 6:4, July/August, 2011

one by one

fireflies escape my glass jar...

starry night

(Editor's First Choice)

Editor's Comment:

For the theamed "insect / bug Haiku Thread Sketchbook poets submitted an

unprecedented 273 poems; picking a single haiku as choice has been difficult... However,

after narrowing the field down to ten I have reached a decision. My number one choice

was submitted by Chen-ou Liu,

The narrator in this ku, possibly a child, has been collecting fireflies in a glass jar. What

child has not participated in this activity on an early, twilight summer eve? Such an

activity permits a close up inspection of these mysterious, luminescent creatures—an up

close experience of the microcosm. Later, the narrator releases the fireflies, and one by

one they escape their "glass" confinement returning to the larger world. They become

indistinguishable in the clear night sky as their tiny, glowing lights become intermixed

with the canvas of the night sky filled with stars. The transformation of views is dramatic

—moving from a microcosmic view to a macrocosmic view. It is this shift of view point

that captures my attention. The child like act of capturing fireflies as specimens for

display in a glass jar is commonplace, but allowing them to escape and mingle as points

of light against the large canvas of a sky on a starry night leads one to speculate on the

larger questions about life. What is life? Is there life in the vast and mostly unexplored,

distant universe? Are the life forms of the "firefly", a "human", and a distant "star"

related? What is the origin of life? These are large questions—all of which invade my

mind upon reading Chen-ou Liu's interesting haiku?

Some readers may object to the selection of this haiku as a Choice example. Both

"firefly" and "starry night" are commonly listed kigos—haijin purists will hastily point

out that only one kigo should be used. Yet, the vastness of the questions that arise in my

mind from reading Chen-ou Liu's haiku lead me to persist in this choice.

Author’s note:

John’s comments are informative and insightful, and I’m particularly impressed by this

well thought-out comment:” The transformation of views is dramatic—moving from a

microcosmic view to a macrocosmic view. It is this shift of view point that captures my

attention.”

As for his concluding comment, my response to so-called haijin purists’ complaint is

simple: there is no abiding kigo tradition adopted and followed by the English language

haiku community, and in the Japanese haiku, two kigo are allowed to use (one of them is

treated as a dominant one).

the pale moon

trapped between high-rises

a line of ants

hometown memories...

a spider mending a hole

in the attic wall

(Editor's Choice)

his gravelly voice,

all your feet flat on the floor...

mosquitoes buzzing

(Editor's Choice)

moonless night

one buzzing fly and I

in the attic

(Editor's Choice)

zen garden

a butterfly soaring

over No Entry

summer heat

a line of ants moving

across Das Kapital

(Editor's Choice)

midsummer night

home alone with my dog

picking fleas

(Editor's Choice)

Vegetable(s) Thread, 6:3, May/June 2011

hometown memories...

a bag of mixed veggies

defrosting

(Editor’s Second Choice)

Editor's Comment:

I love the essence of this. Wabi. All the memories frozen in the past, suddenly right there

in the present. A family reunion or class reunion, mixed with all sorts of people catching

up on their lives. Constantly, we are able to bring the past into the present, but never the

other way around. Yet in revisiting a place, people, family a little touch of the past is

always right there with us. Once fields of farmers and fresh veggies, were cleaned,

precooked and defrosted to save, time—the word time, past, present, saving time are all

food for thought. Sorry for the pun!

Flower(s) Thread, 6:2, March/April 2011

red spider lilies

blooming along the fence --

foreclosed house

(Editor's Choice)

where do you live?

everywhere

plum blossoms drifting

cherry blossoms...

splattered with droppings

by a pigeon

autumn twilight

an old dog sits by the grave

overgrown with ivy

(Editor's Choice)

forget-me-nots . . .

the first blooms in her garden

with a For Sale sign

(Editor's Choice)

winter dawn...

the last photo of her

amid azaleas

(Editor's Choice)

Heart(s) Thread, 6:1, January/February 2011

I love you...

she bites half the chocolate heart

I brought her

(Editor's Choice)

Editor’s Comment:

Chen-ou Liu's haiku is symbolic of true love. Sharing of the heart, the life force. He takes

only half as it takes two parts to complete them as one.

the space

between our hearts

her breasts

balloon hearts

flutter in the spring breeze

her faraway look

two hearts

beat to each other:

street dog and I

rainbow at dusk

a crack line through our hearts

carved in a tree trunk

hazy winter moon

the scent from the chocolate heart

under her foot

my body

blanketing hers

heartbeats

First Snow Thread, 5:6, November/December 2010

an African man

holds out his hands…

snowflakes

first snow...

I stand by the window

until dusk

snow flurries scatter...

Hundred Thousand Whys

on the radio

first snowflakes...

a letter from Taiwan

arrives

blizzard

one footstep follows

another

snowflakes!

pieces of the day

drift away

the way home

I tell the secret

to falling snow

public parking lot:

every space is taken

by snowflakes

in my dream

writing ten haiku a day—

snowflakes swirl

snow deepening...

I've forgotten my Chinese

name

Christmas snow globe...

steam from the hotpot settles

on the window

Fall Trees Thread, 5:5, September/October 2010

job hunting...

a yellow leaf drifts

from branch to branch

(Editor's First Choice)

a plastic bag

caught in the maple tree

autumn dusk

crescent moon

reclining on clouds...

the maple stands alone

maple leaves

drifting in the wind

a piece of my mind

Fruit Thread, 5:4, July/August 2010

peeling my pear

in a thin, unbroken spiral...

hometown memories

(Editor's First Choice)

nose prints

on the store window

fruit sundaes

(Editor's Choice)

winter morning...

the blender mixes berries

with bits of sunshine

she reads my love

poem in the spring sunlight ...

Fuji apple

Beach Thread, 5:3, May/June 2010

beach bonfire...

nothing left between

the moon and me

(Editor's First Choice)

nudist beach --

half-hidden behind a veil

a woman's face

seagulls

squawk...my nipples

hurting

ninth autumn since:

between mother and me

the Pacific

tar balls

on the beach...

silent skies

Winter Solstice Thread, 4:6, November/December 2009

his bony hand

grasping at the air;

winter solstice