Crosses and roses
Make my life more meaningful
 I cannot complain
    -Corazon C. Aquino, Former President of the Philippines

Our beloved former President Corazon Cojuangco Aquino wrote this haiku at the back of a painting she made in 1998 and gave to Fr. Catalino Arevalo of the Society of Jesus. Heartfelt and sincere, the haiku concisely conveys her life’s journey and her half-glass-full, almost saint-like, approach to her life’s quota of complex suffering.

It is not uncommon to combine painting with a haiku. Referred to as a haiga, this art form brings forth a curious question as to whether the painting inspired the haiku or vice versa. Either way, whatever the process, the output or the product is of greater importance.

Like Tita Cory, I am fascinated by short creative works. I directed short films, wrote short stories and chose to read literature that I could finish before I drifted off to sleep at night. The appeal to me of haikus is then a natural occurrence.

I was introduced to the haiku when I was in grade school, interestingly through an art class rather than an English class. We were asked to write a haiku and prepare a stencil of the image that best illustrated it. Such was the appeal of this exercise that I still remember it to this day.

The haiku has its humble beginnings in the hokku, the opening stanza of a literary form of a longer chain of verses called the haikai no renga. The hokku enjoyed such a privileged position and typically set the tone for the entire piece. By the end of the 19th century, Masaoka Shiki raised hokku to a whole new level when he renamed it to haiku to refer to an independent poem.

When talking about haikus, the popular Japanese poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) would always come to mind. Basho is considered a master where Japanese classical literature is concerned and it is because of his effort to convert what used to be a playful game of wit to sublime poetry that we have come to know what the haiku is today.

The English haiku is a 17-syllable sequential verse spread out into three lines. Jane Reichhold, haiku expert, wrote that the haiku should be divided into two parts, a fragment sentence (usually line no. 1 or no. 3) and the rest of the poem, or loosely called the phrase. American haiku poet Nicholas Virgilio illustrates this in his work:

On my last journey
Alone on the road at dawn;
First sight of the sea

I have been trying to spread the beauty of the haiku as a form of creative expression through “Hay Naku Hayku”, a personal collection I’ve been cunningly spreading through my Facebook account. Aptly called “Hay Naku” which is a Filipino verbal expression of an exasperated sigh or a learned helplessness over matters beyond one’s control. Translated contextually in English, in my opinion, “hay naku” would mean “Oh my” and at once would take on a new meaning when “naku” is punctuated with an exclamation point and becomes “Oh no!”

Dampi ng halik
Kusang naaalala
Nangungulila

I have received interesting responses and even a genuine effort from others to make their own haikus.

Tick-tock goes the clock
And teases the restless mind
Body begs for rest

I delight in its 5-7-5 syllabic accuracy and the sweet cadence that goes along with it. There is an in-your-face nakedness that the haiku writer so easily and unabashedly shows. It is like a sudden burst of laughter or a solitary tear. A moment. The aria to an opera. Haiku Master Basho said: “The haiku that reveals seventy to eighty percent of its subject is good; those that reveal fifty to sixty percent we never tire of.” The haiku offers brief glimpses of emotions that make the reader’s response finish the poem or long to read more.

Huni ng ibon
Hudyat ng bagong araw
Ang diwa’y buhay

There is, after all, nothing simple in a haiku. Full of context, rich in experiences, a plethora of thought and emotion, vivid in imagery—all these summed up in a few lines. Bless Basho’s soul.

Within plum orchard
Sturdy oak takes no notice
Of flowering blooms

The moon glows the same:
It is the drifting cloud forms
Make it seem to change

Yellow rose petals
Drop one-by-one in silence:
Roar of waterfall
-Basho
 
(Mia A. Buenaventura, 37, is a writer and award-winning independent director. For comments send email to: mia_mail@ymail.com.)