Global Haiku • Spring 2010
Dr. Randy Brooks

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SierraGoldberg
Jade Anderson

Life Loosened

by
Jade Anderson

Before I took Randy Brooks’ course on haiku, I did not know much about the format except that it usually consisted of three lines in a 5-7-5 syllable pattern. For this reason, I assumed haiku was boring and lacked creativity. However, after seeing the many forms and approaches to this short poetry style, it has become a major hobby of mine. Haiku’s short nature is challenging because the author must get their point across effectively with few words. The brief statements that haiku make are short and sweet—quick to read, yet leave the reader wanting more. That is the beauty of haiku—it is so up to interpretation that it places creativity in the readers’ hands; they can decide what the haiku means.

My personal style of haiku is difficult for me to describe. I am always inspired by personal experiences, social relationships, and the emotions tied up with them. Life can be so burdensome, confusing, and lonely. Sometimes we feel we have no one to tell our random thoughts to. Yet with haiku, I can use this creative outlet to describe emotions and experiences that we all share as human beings, yet are not always open about. In this collection, Life Loosened, I have included all of my favorite haiku and haibun I have written. I chose this title in relation to my signature haiku:

in his darkened bedroom
the girl lets loose
her ribbon

This ribbon I mention can be seen in so many ways. For the purpose of this collection, though, I am expressing my desire for people to let their life loose, to express themselves and to not hide anything they feel. With each haiku I have included in this collection, I have in some way exposed a part of myself, whether it be my past, my pain for a friend, or my random thoughts. Loosening up and getting out our thoughts on life is one of the most beautiful subjects of conversation. I hope you enjoy this collection.


we’re all grown up
looking around the room
someday came suddenly


starry night
a streetlight casts light
on dancing snow


frozen footsteps
on sidewalk snow
ghosts of traffic


empty house…
he plays to the tune
of his broken heart


white hospital room
holding her frail hand
their last kiss


pulling the plug
the light goes out—
my grandmother


forever on my window
my love for you
frozen


xxxxx


xxxxx


xxxxx


xxxxx


Fisherman

The leather-skinned man stands on the edge of his boat, searching the waters for a sign of life. He casts his line into the stillness, waiting for a response. His eyes show his age, his weariness of the world he has been residing in for so long; a world that is controlled by money—a luxury he lacks. His callused hands reels in a whole load of nothing. He knows he will be out past sunset trying to catch something; with fishing he can always succeed. He thinks of his family, the people who he loves more than anything…the people who do not appreciate all that he does, all of the suffering he goes through for them. He keeps casting out his line, hoping for a brighter outcome.

what will it take
to realize his anguish—
the ticking clock


in his darkened bedroom
the girl lets loose
her ribbon


Chicago

On one of my many visits to the city of Chicago, I’m slowly walking down the crowded street of Michigan Avenue. There are so many different faces, each walking at their own pace, with their own bags and friends, each with a different destination. Each individual has his or her own unique characteristics and stories, and when I look at all of them I wonder what secrets they hold. It’s wonderful to see how many mysteries are held by a single person, and the millions of people that pass by me in this city reflect that beautiful mystery.

relaxing on a city bench
the impatient passerby
don’t try to understand


those first days
new love was
our blindfold


graveyard newcomers
one hundred years
from now


with a bottle of wine
peering in his now
empty closet


full moon shines
on porch swing confessions
cool summer breeze


trapped
breathing underwater
your icy hold on me


back room of party
intoxicated beauty wishes
she was single


new fingers
laced between mine
free of him at last


darkened bedroom
candlelit confessions between
new lovers


© 2010, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.