notesgean_1_june2009

Transcription

Welcome to Notes from the Gean the haiku journal
Brought to you by Gean Tree Press
featuring haiku, tanka, haiga, & more.
Mission Statement:
We seek to encourage excellence, experimentation and education
within haiku and its related genres. We believe this is best
accomplished by example and not imitation. Our aim is for authenticity
above all else. We therefore solicit your finest examples of haiku, tanka,
haiga, haibun and renga/renku so that we may "hear" your voices
speak.
The Editors
For details on how to submit to Notes from the Gean please check our
SUBMISSIONS page.
cover artwork Grum Robertson
Magazine content copyright © 2009 Gean Tree Press. All Rights Reserved.
Individual works copyright © the artist/artists.
Notes from the Gean No.1, June 2009
Page 2
contents
haiku
pp.4-29
Editor: Lorin Ford - Australia
tanka
pp.30-42
Editor: H. Gene Murtha - USA
haiga
pp.43-81
Editor: Origa - USA
in memoriam
pp.82-87
special feature
pp.88-89
reviews
pp.90-91
back page
p.92
Editor-in-Chief / Resources: Colin Stewart Jones - Scotland
Page 3
first fine day—
starting again
my hunt for love
Dietmar Tauchner - Austria
train window
the sun follows the geese
Martin Cohen - USA
rolling thunder
two flies spiral down
the garden steps
Martin Cohen - USA
morning stillness
a bird and the puddle
both frozen
Susan Constable - Canada
crisp dawn . . .
the wake-up call
of an eagle
Page 4
white lies—
a few drops of rain
puddle together
raindrops
along the railing—
the first few stars
Peggy Willis Lyles - USA
early darkness
friends pool the words
to an old song
autumn nightsounds—
thoughts of my parents
seeping in
the great river
absorbs a little river—
stars vanishing
Page 5
black ice
cloisonné irises
wrap her cane
folklore school—
wild strawberries bloom
by the gate
Maya Lyubenova - Bulgaria
broken wall . . .
the barn and a cherry-tree
lean on each other
stabbed
by an icicle
the hanging moon
winter solstice
all night crushing
dry herbs
Graham Nunn - Australia
Page 6
morning walk
everyone I pass
knows my dog's name
rising moon
my knife divides
the fish's belly
Kangaroo Island
a humpback's
bone-white impression
Rhonda Poholke - Australia
a brisk wind—
the memory of old wine
in wet leaves
Adelaide B. Shaw - USA
tenth floor—
a picture window view
of fog
Page 7
breathing in—
across the room my husband
peels a tangerine
watery sunshine–
the overnight leaves
piled at the door
off season—
the smell of wood smoke
from a closed inn
on a night train—
glow-worms outside
catch my eyes
Sunil Uniyal - India
country drive—
the one-legged scarecrow
heckled by sparrows
Page 8
the mist is heavy
having swallowed all mountains
and paddy fields
flooded street—
on their verandah
a chair rocking
John Bird, Australia
drifting mist
a rainbow lorikeet
fades out
silver coins
in the hospital fountain
winter sunshine
swank hotel
the rat in the ceiling
stays for free
Bob Lucky - China
Page 9
winter morning
muffled voices going
down the stairs
Bob Lucky - China
misunderstanding
all the butterflies
look the same today
Bob Lucky - China
the nightingale sings his throat open
Jim Kacian - USA
water brighter than the sky spring
Jim Kacian - USA
bubbles up through green water the heat
Jim Kacian - USA
Page 10
along the river bottom trees named for the local Indians
Jim Kacian - USA
sundown trolling all the way in
Jim Kacian - USA
cave door in the cliff—
a fairy martin dips
into darkness
Rodney Williams - Australia
venus within
the new moon at dawn . . .
first tingling touch
panning for gemstones
in a high-country stream . . .
her sapphire eyes
Page 11
rippled light
a wild salmon leaps
above the rainbow
Catherine J.S. Lee - USA
silk flowers
in the fork of a tree
sundown wind
warming trend
the man in the day moon
smiles back
lily buds
a girl in the window
blows the long flute
Anthony Anatoly Kudryavitsky - Ireland
Japanese Gardens—
old ladies discussing
who’s the oldest
Page 12
art gallery
a stretch of blue smoke
colours the clouds
out of the garden wall
into a city mist
tree roots
Vernal equinox—
full moon balancing
on the ridgepole
lowered glances . . .
the tram trembles
with secrets
Tsveta Djagarova - Bulgaria
I love you . . .
over my head a wreath
of dandelions
Tsveta Djagarova - Bulgaria
Page 13
itchy nose—
but the sparrow is
so close!
Matt Hetherington - Australia
gentle rain
my wife is pregnant
Matt Hetherington - Australia
rain on dry leaves
the mother cat adjusts
a nursing kitten
Ferris Gilli - USA
her son’s enlistment
dogwood blossoms
scatter in the wind
Ferris Gilli - USA
tornado watch
robin song
trails the siren
Ferris Gilli - USA
Page 14
spider silk
reaching across the river
sunrise
Ferris Gilli - USA
the tax man's sigh
an owl wing feather
in the pen cup
Ferris Gilli - USA
incessant rain –
at the height of the storm
birds start singing
Merrill Gonzales - USA
the cast-comes-off-day—
on a branch a cicada shell
flaps in the wind
sudden heat—
in the old shed
wasps stirring
Page 15
surf flag statues
between the sea-weed
bodies glisten
Neil Bramsen - Australia
holiday crowds—
hermit crabs tumble
on the ebbing tide
white caps on the bay
a smear of sunscreen
remains on her breast
evening barbecue—
peron’s tree frog
cackles from the drain
sweeping the path—
pollen falls
behind me
Page 16
in the wake of dawn
harvest songs sung
in childhood
Kala Ramesh - India
waiting
for a bengal tiger . . .
I sense the power
of silence
Kala Ramesh - India
watching the sadhu
cross-legged on the rock . . .
my backpack lightens
Barbara A Taylor - Australia
minister’s visit
the fly in my tea
tries again
Jack Prewitt - Australia
empty street
the smell of her
in my shirt
Page 17
long night—
the shop mannequin
grows lifelike
long twilight
the old widower argues
with his wife
Bill Kenney - USA
winter solitude
the exact shape
of the moon
Bill Kenney - USA
bonsai—
still sensitive
about my height
Bill Kenney - USA
the doctor wants
to take a closer look . . .
my unexamined life
Bill Kenney - USA
Page 18
blue mountains
fading one into the other
your heartbeats
Sandra Simpson - New Zealand
delivery men
carrying across the road
the scent of freesias
photos of her father
in enemy uniform –
the taste of almonds
Anzac Day—
following a red line
into Belgium
dawn walk
the driveway cobweb
repaired
Nathalie Buckland - Australia
Page 19
Autumn equinox
the dregs
in my wine glass
year’s end
a lizard pauses
on the lintel
from the attic
a breathtaking view
between cranes
Nuri Rosegg - Norway
New Year's Day—
fireworks still explode
in my head
Nuri Rosegg - Norway
Anzac service
the rustle of the crowd
through fallen leaves
Lynette Arden - Australia
Page 20
line of footprints . . .
waves pulling up
the sea
Lynette Arden - Australia
beside the dunes
a scrub jay
the color of sky
Peggy Heinrich - USA
Ash Creek
the slap-slap of a goose
before take-off
A. A. meeting
each time it opens
the groan of the door
a little cloud
drifts from its mob—
sheep on the hill
Gina - Australia
Page 21
the cat's reflection
nods back . . .
empty fishpond
Gina - Australia
autumn wardrobe
the pile of spare coathangers
grows . . .
Beverley George - Australia
walking to school—
the autumn wind
peels skin from my face
Ashley Capes - Australia
funeral service—
a fly head-butting
the statue of Jesus
Michelle Leber - Australia
the empty chair . . .
a flood of memories
for Mother's Day
Keith A. Simmonds - West Indies
Page 22
step by step
the mist swallowing
the chimneys
Keith A. Simmonds - West Indies
my life
without you . . .
thread work
Jo McInerney - Australia
promises
I don't recall . . .
old diary
early spring
an alarm clock startles
the rooster
Don Baird - USA
summer thirst—
sunlight splashes
from my hands
Don Baird - USA
Page 23
tapping tin
a small boy
in the rain
Don Baird - USA
my slouch in my son’s shoulders winter’s end
Matthew Paul - UK
trout lake
the swallowtail’s tails
shadowed on a pine
Matthew Paul - UK
the pink speckles
in foxglove corollas . . .
midsummer snooze
Matthew Paul - UK
pressing his finger
on a cactus spine:
my younger son
Matthew Paul - UK
Page 24
the broken windows
of a hidden summer house
evening balm
Matthew Paul - UK
full sun
the iridescent wings
of a black wasp
Quendryth Young - Australia
empty beach . . .
the random clatter
of pebbles
rose window
the saints lie
toe to toe
haloed moon—
our ‘goodnights’ exchanged
in a chat box
Curtis Dunlap - USA
Page 25
tall tales in the shade—
grandpa shifts his tobacco
to the other cheek
Curtis Dunlap - USA
outside the planetarium
a senior couple share
a doobie
Curtis Dunlap - USA
charity shop
exchanging nods
with my exHelen Buckingham - UK
tv lounge—
turning to face
the fish tank
Helen Buckingham - UK
wolf moon—
her teenage daughter
wields the tweezers
Helen Buckingham - UK
Page 26
making change . . .
a dogwood blossom
on the counter
Melinda Hipple - USA
unexplored path
a contrail through the heart
of the sun
lightning strike!
the earth shakes loose
a car alarm
column of smoke—
my neighbor's house
fills the sky
silence
through grey-blue mist
blackened bushland
Dawn Bruce - Australia
Page 27
winter morning
the warmth of a seat
just vacated
early shadows . . .
the first crowsfeet
around her eyes
night hunting—
the moonlight washes slowly
a fawn's wounds
Vasile Moldovan - Romania
glow-worms
on her wedding night
the bride's eyes
coming of age—
a ladybird ready to fly
from my lifeline
Page 28
Valentine's Day
only spam
in my inbox
Mark Miller - Australia
Sunday afternoon
gulls killing time
in the empty mall
past midnight
again and again the mopoke
answers itself
second winter
for the first time I wake
on her side of the bed
breaking light
the sound
of the last trawler
winter ending…
some leaves
refuse to fall
Harry Rout - Australia
Page 29
do you ever wish
you were someone else,
she asks—
this woman I married
more than twenty years ago
Bob Lucky - China
this crazy jazz
almost perfect moment
dusk
the muted falling rain
and a mynah's solo
Bob Lucky - China
watching the moon
bob on a current of clouds—
I take your hand
and hold it tightly
to steady my heart
Bob Lucky – China
Page 30
could be it craves
to be pruned and tended—
the wild apple
with its stair-step branches
offering a way to climb
Kirsty Karkow - USA
something about
the stance and sturdiness
of your quarter horse ...
a long forgotten ache
to saddle up once more
Kirsty Karkow - USA
is it over?
can a final passion
consume me
on this turn toward home
and the last lap of life
Kirsty Karkow - USA
Page 31
the coolness of spring
has steadily given way
to the next season;
I need no calendar
to know the speed of time
scurrying leaves—
we delay our farewell
five more minutes
pushing aside thoughts
of no returns
variable light
on the weeping willows
and meandrous streams
grandfather tells stories
about naiads and dragons
Geert Verbeke - Belgium
Page 32
the leaved branch
reaches out to the brook
in a few strokes
her painting in the cheap joint
has a gloomy mood
autumnal drawing
bamboo in a few lines
fog in our orchard
with the vague contours
of haystacks and sheds
from the eye
of the hawk to its prey
no thought of me
watching the flight
watching its grace
Merrill Ann Gonzales - USA
Page 33
great dark wings
a shadow over my head
turns—returns
till I'm drawn into its world
wondering how—why
Merrill Ann Gonzales - USA
death, taxes
and the tides . . .
I build a castle
as I wait
for that one big wave
Collin Barber - USA
a starlit night . . .
the heavenly mixture
of wine
and her lips
condones my lust
Collin Barber - USA
Page 34
just a shell
of the man I was
ten years ago
somehow I've managed
to keep a smile
Collin Barber - USA
you there
how did it get
to be too late
when it hasn't yet
been before?
miriam chaikin - USA
first a large circle
to establish my boundaries
wider and wider
I draw the mandala
from the center outward
Karen Cesar - USA
Page 35
old secrets
encircled by pines
our whispers
drowned in a rush
of white water
Karen Cesar - USA
this scar
connecting belly-button
to pubic mound . . .
yes, there was a time
when I was open
Karen Cesar - USA
when he forgets
he calls me by her name
the kid sister
whose suicide never
quite leaves his mind
Karen Cesar - USA
Page 36
as
nourishing as jelly
your love
as impossible
to nail
GINA - Australia
repeating
in curves and hollows
sunset
lingers in the folds
of a winter rose
GINA - Australia
what i like
about reality, is the tide
how it washes over me
and ebbs . . .
then I come undone
GINA - Australia
Page 37
the day
after your death . . .
earth
a pale blue spot
so very far away
I never had
a wedding ring
just a bond
you threaded through me
like wine through water
I sense
something in the air
a stillness
a change in the light
and I know you are gone
Page 38
ashes swirl
in the midst of autumn leaves
my father
touches me . . .
touches me . . .
Don Baird - USA
stone path
an old bearded man
spinning clay
his seasoned hands follow
the curves of a lost love
Don Baird - USA
in the shop pane
I see through my eyes
reflecting
a thousand things
I want to do with my life
Alexander Ask - Australia
Page 39
in the terra-cotta pot
tumbling pear blossoms
when will i be free
from him
free from his words?
Pamela A. Babusci - USA
barely spring
& already my heart
is lighter
i feel like falling
madly in love
Pamela A. Babusci - USA
together we said
“when the apple blossoms again . . .”
that was our vow
now I have returned at last
to find our tree long dead
C W Hawes - USA
Page 40
the days, months, and years
they’ve all slipped through my fingers
and what do I have
two teacups on the table
one of which remains empty
C W Hawes – USA
bleached and dry
like the broken coral
on your desk
am I a mere keepsake
holding down our past?
Julie Thorndyke - Australia
the moon
I forget to thank
setting
behind winter trees
my mentor, my haijin
Page 41
turning the branch
between his knife and thumb
grandfather
carves magic sticks
as I conduct the air
Melinda Hipple -USA
in the park
a troupe of jugglers
practising—
everything still
up in the air
Rodney A. Williams - Australia
Page 42
Stephen Addiss
Stephen Addiss, a scholar-artist-poet, is Tucker-Boatwright Professor in the Humanities: Art at the
University of Richmond. His paintings, including haiga, have been exhibited in China, Japan,
Taiwan, Korea, England, France, Germany, Austria, and many American venues. He is managing
editor of South by Southeast: Haiku and Haiku Arts Journal, and his books include A Haiku
Menagerie, The Art of Zen, Haiga: Haiku-Painting, Haiku People, A Haiku Garden, Haiku Humor,
Haiku Landscapes, How to Look at Japanese Art, Zen Sourcebook, 77 Dances: Japanese
Calligraphy, The Art of Chinese Calligraphy, and the forthcoming Haiku: An Anthology of Japanese
Poems. http://thehaikufoundation.org/people/associates/
Page 43
Sakuo Nakamura
Sakuo Nakamura lives in Tokyo, Japan, and is a professional artist. He is famous in haiku world for
his Issa haiku paintings, and now he has started a new series with haiku and tanka by Masajo.
Sakuo's art and haiga have been displayed in many gallery shows around Tokyo. His works may
be seen in his blogs: http://sakuo3903.blogspot.com/,http://sakuo3903.livejournal.com/, and for cell
phone http://blog.livedoor.jp/sakuo3903/?blog/
Page 44
Page 45
Page 46
Page 47
Page 48
Page 49
Page 50
Page 51
Page 52
Lidia Rozmus
Lidia Rozmus was born in Poland and studied at the Jagiellonian University in Krakow and the Art
Institute of Chicago. She has lived in the United States since 1980 and works as a graphic
designer, teacher, painter and haiku poet. In addition to illustrating many books and chapbooks,
Lidia has published three books of her own graphic work and poetry (Twenty Views from Mole Hill,
My Journey, Hailstones: Haiku by Santoka Taneda), and has shown her paintings and published
her haiku throughout the United States, in Poland, and in Japan. She is art editor of the journal
Modern Haiku, and has represented American artists at several international conferences. She
also traveled to Japan, and learned the culture and arts there, as well as was fortunate to study
sumi-e with great teachers and artists, Qigu Jiang and Shozo Sato.
Page 53
Page 54
Page 55
Page 56
an'ya
an'ya is currently the editor of moonset, THE NEWSPAPER, as well as a former editor of Ribbons,
the Tanka Society of America newsletter and journal. She's founder of the OhtS (Oregon haiku and
tanka Society), past-editor of haigaonline, and past-director of the World Haiku Club Beginners
group. an'ya's complete biography can be read at www.moonset-newspaper.com.
Page 57
Page 58
Page 59
Page 60
Page 61
Jim Kacian
Jim Kacian is the founder of The Haiku Foundation (www.thehaikufoundation.org) owner of Red
Moon Press (www.redmoonpress.com) and author of 14 books.
Page 62
Page 63
Page 64
Page 65
Page 66
Doris Kasson
Doris Kasson (b.1925 in Petersburg, Nebraska, res. Belleair Bluffs, Florida, USA) started writing
haiku and tanka in the early 1990s. She has won numerous awards. With the arrival of digital
photography, her interests have expanded to include photo-tanka/haiga as an art form.
Page 67
Page 68
Page 69
Page 70
Page 71
Page 72
Page 73
Page 74
GINA
Gina is Hungarian born in South Africa and now living in Tasmania. She is an award winning artist
with works in collections around the world. Since discovering poetry in 2005, she has over 60
poems published in 21 journals, such as LYNX, The Herons Nest, Modern English Tanka,
Moonset, 3 lights gallery, Ribbons, Simply Haiku, Haibun Today, Tasmanian Times, Burst and
Haigaonline, among others.
Page 75
Page 76
Page 77
Mike Keville
Mike Keville lives in Richmond, UK. He is a talented photographer, a poet, and a promising artistbeginner. His haiga has been published in Haigaonline. Recently, Mike has begun to experiment
with animated haiga.
http://img181.imageshack.us/img181/7208/whereilivetq7.gif
Page 78
http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/3361/animationwindow2jx2.gif
Page 79
http://img510.imageshack.us/img510/2038/dawnsrainhj8.gif
http://img211.imageshack.us/img211/3672/animationsheeprp0.gif
Page 80
Page 81
in memoriam
KILMENY NILAND
(16 September 1950 - 27 February 2009)
While preparing this inaugural issue, I received the shocking news that one of the famous
Australian artists and illustrators, a haiku poet and haiga artist, who was a good friend of mine,
Kilmeny Niland, passed away on February 27, 2009, only a few months after she was diagnosed
with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She was only 58. She will always be remembered as a very kind,
warm, generous and beautiful person and friend.
Artist's passions ran deep: Kilmeny Niland: 1950-2009 (Obituary) by Tony Stephens,
The Sydney Morning Herald, Obituary in The Mosman Daily, and Wikipedia article.
Kilmeny was incredibly talented artist, and I introduced her work in my Live Journal several times.
This is her haiga that she shared with us, told the story behind it, and answered our many
questions:http://origa.livejournal.com/46457.html
These are excerpts from Kilmeny’s comments and answers:
This tiny creature is a pygmy possum which is half the size shown here. Their diet mostly consists
of sipping the nectar of flowers supplemented by crunchy fragments of a luckless
insect.http://www.kilmenyniland.com/wildlife_art.html
Page 82
"It began as a wildlife painting for an
exhibtion. It is a ringtailed possum
with baby. They carry their young
(one or two) on their backs. The
strange looking flower in the
foreground is a golden banksia which
is a native of Australia. There are a
huge variety of banksia grown here
and I hope I'm remembering the
correct name!
For the haiga, I wanted a mental link
between the image of the round
flower and the moon -- both glowing
under the watchful eye. Whose
watchful eye? The possum (a
nocturnal animal), is vigilant and we
are too as the eye is focussed on the
glow. Well, that's one way of looking
at it." -- Kilmeny Niland
“It is interesting to see just how 'modern' haiga can become as we see different developments
within the art form. I would love to be able experiment more especially with the integration of text
within the image. I wonder if I dare to become completely abstract.” (Kilmeny)
“While I can think in an abstracted way, I find it difficult when putting brush or pencil to paper, to
make the image lean towards realism. It needs a whole different thought process. Then again,
sometimes I have great images in my mind, but don't have the digital knowledge to 'translate' them
to the screen. I'd also like to try my hand at brush painting too...one day.”
”Minnie is out of surgery but needs to wear one of those Elizabethan collars for a few days so she
doesn't pull at her stitches. It makes her look like a strange little flower... hmm, maybe a
dogrose?” (Kilmeny)
“Thank you so much, Olga. And to all the individual commentators! It makes my day. I enjoyed the
spontaneous haiku too. That's an interesting fact about warblers -- I didn't know that. Yes, we do
have some weird and wonderful animals and flowers. The first artists to sight the kangaroo,
thought they were huge mice. (I wonder if they were fearful of huge cats as well!) I think the
strangest must be platypus -- an egglaying mammal which suckles its young. Sobersided
naturalists in England, when they saw their first specimen, thought it must be a hoax with its duck
bill and beaver tail.” (Kilmeny)
Please visit Kilmeny's Personal web site and Haiga pages to enjoy her beautiful work.
Other sources of Kilmeny’s haiku-related activities on the web, and in print:
Poetry Page in WHA web site, Haiku in Laryalee's online haiku Anthology, 2000 Jack Stamm
Award - Third Prize, Second Calico Cat haiku contest - Second prize, Sixth Calico Cat haiku
contest - First prize, Haiga in Laryalee Fraser's web site, Haiga in Simply Haiku, Haibun in CHO
(and in printed Anthology), Haiga in Haigaonline, Five logo in WHC Logo Design Contest; First and
Second Australian Haiku Anthologies; WHA Anthologies (Japan) 2005, 2006, 2007; haiku in
Paper Wasp, Yellow Moon, World Haiku Review 2005; WHA monthly Haiga contests (placed every
months for several years); also, Kilmeny was on the editorial board for English haiku in the
Chrysanthemum haiku journal (e-zine).
Page 83
This is a haiga with Kilmeny’s First Prize winning haiku
and my sumi-e from the 6th Calico Cat haiku contest:
Kilmeny received this painting as her First Prize, to hang on a wall in her Australian house:
Introduction on Scholastic, Member's page in The Style File, A Note from husband Rafe Champion
in The Tizona Group (with photos), Tribute by Nicholas Gruen at Club Troppo, Tribute by
SkepticLawyer
From Deborah Niland, Kilmeny’s twin sister: “Kilmeny loved the world of haiga and haiku, and
valued her friendship with you. She even requested a piece of haiku to be put on her memorial
plaque. My brother chose this one;
my new robe
full of sunlight
and warmth
Santoka
It is very difficult to realize that her lovely work and ideas will be no longer, but we relish the
memories we have of her and the work she has left with us.”
From Rafe Champion, Kilmeny’s husband: “I will be happy to give permission to any tasteful
use of her images that is properly acknowledged and linked to her website.
Page 84
Kilmeny Niland and Rafe Champion in 1979.
From the funeral program.
An exhibition of Kilmeny's work and a celebration of her life will be held at the Julian Ashton Art
School at Middle Head, with a picnic/barbeque in the adjacent park overlooking the harbour. This
was one of Kilmeny's favorite places. The date and time will be announced on her website.
We will remember a laughing, long-haired girl,
Daughter of sun, sand and foam,
By the bayside of the Emerald city.
A lover and a carer, sensuous, bold and kind,
Mistress of passion, power and pride,
Kilmeny of the shining eyes.
Page 85
Kilmeny with her children Hugh, Leo, Thomas, Patrick, in their garden.
Kilmeny Niland grew up in Sydney and studied at the Julian Ashton Art School. Always drawing
from an early age, she achieving a published book whilst still in her teens after travelling and
studying informally in the UK and Europe.
She worked in animation, children's books (over 30 titles), wildlife art, miniatures, portraits, cards
and prints. Examples of all these forms can be found on her website, which demonstrates another
branch of her skills that was just starting to flower. In miniature art she won numerous prizes in
national and international competitions. Several of her portraits were hung in the Portia Geach
exhibition and a porrtait of her mother, Ruth Park, was purchased by the National Portrait Gallery.
In recent years she became more active in writing and in electronic media. The combination can be
seen in the delightful examples of haiga on her website. She wrote "What better way to combine a
love of haiku, oriental art and image-making than by exploring modern haiga. Traditionally, this is
Japanese brushwork combined with haiku but modern techniques can also include photography,
digital art and even sound."
The most recent books which she wrote and illustrated include Two Tough Teddies with Little
Hare, Fat Pat with the ABC and An Aussie Day Before Christmas with Scholastic.
In early 2008 she detected symptoms that were eventually diagnosed as non-Hodgkins lymphoma.
Treatment started in July but the disease proved to be refractory. After exhausting the routine
treatments she entered a research trial in January 2009. She ran into an unbeatable opponent but
she will not be remembered as a loser. She retained her dignity, poise and sense of humour to the
end.
We will miss her impish wit, her compassion for small animals and people in need, her sense of
order and the work that she planned to do.
Page 86
We are very grateful to Kilmeny’s family: her twin sister Deborah Niland, and husband Rafe
Champion, who generously shared the information for this memorial. A big thank you also to the
President of the Australian Haiku Society Beverley George for her dedicated help with contacting
Kilmeny’s family, and providing information.
Origa
Page 87
special feature
Notes from the Gean will be running special features as and when the occasion is
merited.
For our inaugural issue we felt that we would like to spotlight Curtis Dunlap who has done so much
through his blog, Blogging Along Tobacco Road, to promote haiku and haijin around the world.
It was decided that we should turn the table on Curtis and each of the editors ask Curtis a question
independently. As managing editor I sent the questions to Curtis as I received them from the other
editors; my own question was sent to Curtis first so that it could not be influenced by anyone else’s
question.
Here are Curtis’ responses in order and unedited. As there are four of us there are four questions,
as opposed to Curtis’ usual three – so please enjoy One More for the Road.
One More for the Road
Colin: Curtis, I have only recently got to know you but judging by your comments made on
Facebook on 21 April 2009, I think you may have a touch of O.C.D. Libiamo ne’ lieti calici, the
“Drinking Song” from Verdi’s La Traviata; not only was this tune playing in your head all day, but
you also know the correct Italian for the title of the song. You went on to say: Curtis is [and I quote]
back in the mason jar and if a fruit fly gets in the way…well. You were obviously obsessed with the
tune and felt compelled to drink to the point of carnivorousness...I sincerely hope the Tobacco
Road has not lead you into taking up smoking. Anyway, my question to you is this, has any haiku
that you’ve read ever stuck with you all day, and have you ever felt compelled to do something
because of the haiku?
Curtis: There are poems that stay with me, perhaps not all day, but I often reflect on haiku that
I've read by other poets. Occasionally, I'll relate to a poem on a personal level, usually because I've
experienced similar moments. Poems that evoke a smile while I'm reading them tend to stay with
me longer than sad poems. I am often compelled to write after reading an inspiring haiku,
sometimes in response to what I've just read, but not always.
Gene: Dear Curtis,
Everyday, I have to tell my 11 year old son to pull up his jeans that are hanging below his butt, and
too tuck in his boxer shorts... I never knew any girls that liked glen plaid or paisley. I am aware that
you have children of your own, but how do you deal with the high fashion of our youth?
Sincerely,
Gene
H, Gene Murtha
Curtis: I must be lucky. So far, fashion has not been a problem in the Dunlap household. About
Page 88
the only problem I've encountered has been my 15 year-old son's hair. While I don't mind him
wearing his hair long, I'd prefer that he keep it out of his eyes. Thankfully, he agreed to have it
"trimmed" prior to basketball season. At 6'3" (and still growing!) he's a decent basketball player. It
was nice to see him handling the ball without having to constantly brush hair out of his eyes with
one of his hands.
Lorin: When you are not reading or writing haiku, which piece of music are you most often
tempted to accompany on air guitar?
Curtis: The first song and artist that enters my mind is Crossfire by Stevie Ray Vaughan. The
lyrics are timeless and certainly applicable to today's tough economic times. Stevie was a
phenomenal guitarist, one heck of a Texas blues man; his leads were/are smoking hot and full of
feeling. The guitar was definitely an extension of his artistic soul. Of all the guitarist I've heard in my
lifetime, he would be the one most likely to cause me to break into an air guitar routine.
Origa: In your opinion, what personal and professional qualities make a fairly good haijin – a
great haijin – a uniquely outstanding haijin?
Curtis: Study, dedication, and a sharp eye for detail are among the personal qualities that
determine how good, great, or outstanding a haijin becomes in the art of haiku; a passion for
poetry would also be beneficial. Personally, I don't believe professional qualities are as important
as personal qualities. I imagine an impressive list of haijin with diverse professional backgrounds
could be gathered to support this. In fact, such a list is in the process of being assembled. It's
located on Tobacco Road under a heading called Haiku - Three Questions.
Curtis Dunlap lives near the confluence of the Mayo and Dan rivers in Mayodan, North Carolina.
He has been published in several anthologies and journals. He was awarded 3rd Prize in the 11th
International Kusamakura Haiku Competition in 2006 and the Museum of Haiku Literature Award in
2008
His web site is located at
http://tobaccoroadpoet.com/
Curtis also blogs along Tobacco Road
http://tobaccoroadpoet.blogspot.com/
Page 89
Jack Fruit Moon by Robert D. Wilson
A review by Colin Stewart Jones
Much has been made about Wilson’s choice of title for his book. The moon should require no
definition but what is a jack fruit?
'Jack Fruit: a huge, funny looking fruit that looks like a cross between a melon and a toad’s back.'
The sweet refreshment of a melon combined with the unpalatable and often poisonous. This
should give the reader an indication of what is to come. There is much beauty and joy in Jack Fruit
Moon, but there is also much ugliness and pain. Wilson, however, records all these facets of
nature and humanity without ever slipping into sentimentality or pity.
Jack Fruit Moon is not a book to enjoy in the normal sense but is rather a challenging book. Wilson
challenges his readers on many fronts: his images both enchant and disturb, he challenges
preconceived notions about the Japanese haikai genres in which he writes; and before we even
read a poem he throws down a gauntlet, in his introduction, for us to try to understand his poetry
and therefore understand him:
'I live on french press coffee and have a mind that works a mile a minute. Who am I? I used to
think I came from Venus but then again, it’s none of your business. Understand my poetry and
you’ll understand me.'
Jack Fruit Moon is a series of beautifully written tanka and haiku ‘strings’. Though each poem can
stand alone, the word string suggests that we should read the work as such and not look at each
poetic unit in isolation. This is borne out by the sustained use of image and the uniformity of motif
throughout Jack Fruit Moon. Wilson has already told us in his introduction that his mind works at a
'mile a minute' and this is the best way to read his book; one may not take everything in on first
read but it gives the reader a greater sense of the writer’s intention if we try to keep up with the
writer’s pace.
Wilson’s poetry is often described as surreal; certainly, it is different, but surreal is the wrong word
here. Ethereal best describes Wilson’s work. As we read we encounter light, dark, shadows,
ghosts, memories, reflections, dreams, nightmares, breaths and whispers; all of which are
intangible yet still very real to the writer. Wilson has placed tanka and haiku together for a reason
and that reason is balance: the tanka race off the page as Wilson records what he
witnesses/feels/remembers in an almost stream of consciousness fashion and the haiku are
counterpoised to bring us back to the more concrete.
One was taught never to confuse the poetry with the poet, however, in Wilson’s case the poetry is
inextricably linked with the man and his experience. The self – albeit in a state of flux – is clearly
evident throughout Jack Fruit Moon:
Page 90
ant, there is
more to me than
a giant foot!
Indeed, there is more to Wilson than meets the eye. He started his adult life as a soldier in Vietnam
and later became a minister and then an educator, amongst other jobs. Wilson has fought, sought
and taught along his way. So who is Wilson; a caffeine fuelled madman, an alien or a poet
searching to understand his-self and the world that shaped him? Most definitely the latter, though
as someone who suffers with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of his experiences of war,
Wilson may, at some times, be all three.
Wilson often speaks to creatures in his poems. The above poem shows Wilson’s gentle side where
he is telling the ant that he has the choice not to step on it. The ant also serves as a wonderful
metaphor for the common soldier. In this poem, Wilson is identifying with the lot of all soldiers and
refuses to believe that we should regard each other as enemies – he is telling his opposite to see
beyond the usual perspective and that he is more than a man in a uniform who is stomping over
the other’s territory:
return me
dragon to the
elephant
grass field of
too much time
The opening poem of a collection usually serves to announce a work as a whole. In the above, the
dragon – a fabulous creature from the mythologies of many nations – serves as a metaphor for
South-east Asia and the writer is hankering for the days of his youth when there were no worries
and time seemed to last for ever. He may wish to return to those days but would Wilson be the
same poet he is now:
make the most
of it, fly . . .
autumn shortens
It is significant that Wilson’s final poem in Jack Fruit Moon occupies a page on its own. Wilson is
stressing the point about our mortality and the fact that we exist in the temporal. As philosophers
know, the enemy of the aesthetic and the poet, is time. The ellipses provide us with the necessary
room for the unsaid, which in this case is ‘before’. Make the most of it, fly before Autumn shortens.
Depending on whether you read fly as a noun or a verb, this could be read as friendly advice or an
imperative.
Wilson asks of himself somewhere between first and last poems:
what will you
do when the voices are
no more and
the wind lays silence
at your feet, miming stars?
Unfortunately, one has no answers but would recommend that Wilson keeps on writing until that
time, which one hopes is not soon; and we keep on reading.
__________________________________
Jack Fruit Moon by Robert D. Wilson
Published by Modern English Tanka Press
Baltimore, Maryland USA
ISBN 978-0-9817691-4-1
Page 91
BACK PAGE
colin stewart jones
Page 92

notesgean_1_june2009

Transcription

Similar documents

PDF - Monex Europe

PDF

Marvel: Ultimate Alliance

ERL-0631-GD PR

Paula Brennan, Greater Dandenong

365Haiku - Big Poppa E

Haiku / Canto Clinical Images

Open PDF poster