Modern haiku schools not only question the traditional form, but also some rules of text design and try to break new ground.
Summer grass is all that remained of the warrior's dream
Haiku, Senryu and Tanka have no headings or signatures. The discussions about this regulation and the deviations from it are as old as the poem.
Today the wind has this flavor from the sea from the dunes of 'he thinks of me'
The first verse in these systems always has the name "hokku“, The second waki or wakiku, the final verse ageku (completing verse). To distinguish the multi-verse renga from the initial two-stanza renga, the latter is called tanrenga. The 5-7-5-syllable verses are called “long verses” (chôku), and the 7-7-syllable verses are called “short verses” (tanku).
Chestnut tree - the bicycle basket underneath
fills with flowers ...on the way home very carefully around every stone
Afterwards at the stopThere are five of us in London. A couple of friends, my children and I are drifting through the shopping streets on this unusually sunny, yes, warm October morning. And although the newspapers write of the economic crisis, people are hurrying in this direction and that direction full of plastic bags between all the department stores and cafés. Again and again I bump against their edges, smell expensive perfume up close, say “Excuse me” twice and then leave it. Because nobody speaks on these boulevards. There, we want to take the bus! An old bus, one with an open platform at the end! One of those to jump on! I jump ... “Do you still have them all?” My friend orders me. Not only that I almost drove away on my own, because no one could run after the hustle and bustle. Not his wife, nor my daughter. And whether I had ever thought that my son, at eight years old, couldn't have anything better to do than jump after his father. Thank God the boy was too slow, he was able to hold on to him. I should have seen how horrified he looked after me. And they only caught up with me because the next stop wasn't a hundred meters away and the bus was still waiting.
"Sorry," I say. And after a while: "I don't know what got into me."This is where I was born. This is where my father died. Now I'm cutting the umbilical cord ...
- Translator into Japanese or English language
All in all, this is an open and easy-to-learn form of community poetry, in which the focus can be on the joy of poetry and experimentation.
autumn glowIn the high maple next to the stone cross
a shimmer of red.Church clock. In the night silence
clearly falls a first apple.Haze in the hills. The ups and downs of the baskets
between the vines.Two wine festivals to choose from on Saturday evening.
Impending sky.Your father holds the kite,
but a Withrust him away.Thanksgiving dinner. On TV football and fire in the fireplace.