Blog
Clear, simple words | Hugh Hodge
Mon, 09 December 2024
The art of poetry has a longstanding reputation for being difficult and hard to understand.
So it is refreshing to turn to poems written in very short, simple forms. Perhaps the simplest of these is the haiku, a Japanese form consisting of 17 syllables written in three lines with a syllable count of five, seven and five.
The late Hugh Hodge, founder and for many years master of ceremonies at Off the Wall (Cape Town’s longest-running poetry platform), was a master of this form. For many years, he sent a haiku via SMS to his friends almost every day. Although as yet unpublished, they are fondly remembered by those who knew and loved Hugh.
Read the seven haiku below, chosen from a collection of thousands, and notice how the form makes it necessary to use the clearest, simplest language at all times.
`Your face is lined as
mine is. Each path tracks its age
in your loveliness.
Opinion rattles
over the cobbled backstreets
carting empty heads.
The sober poet
left too much to be desired
bottled up inside.
Cats’ careful back feet
test grounds before adding weight
to their opinions.
How unschooled are trees
that search for light and water
and are satisfied?
The philosopher
gleams in the afternoon light.
Soon he’ll sleep I think.
Haiku are gymnasts
everybody can catch
in time, if thoughtless.
Notice how these poems record ordinary events (trees, cats, sleepy humans) with precision, grace and humour. Also notice how Hugh gently makes fun of serious-minded people who think they have all the answers to life’s large questions. He prefers the unschooled wisdom of trees, the light-footed wariness of cats, the adoration of old and experienced lovers.
There is often an element of surprise here. For instance, opinion drives a noisy cart containing the empty heads of opinionated people. The opinions of soft-footed cats, on the other hand, are stowed in their back feet. The gleaming philosopher, usually attuned to abstract ideas, seems to be on the point of falling asleep, dazed by the afternoon sun. (The poem is dated, so we know that it was written in early autumn). The trees may be unschooled, but by the end of the poem we are left wondering if they are not wiser than humans after all.
Why are these short poems so memorable? Perhaps the final haiku included here offers a clue. We are told that haiku are supple and powerful, but that anyone who is thoughtless can catch them. In other words, haiku do not usually try to induce profound, abstract thoughts in us. Instead, they wake us up to a world of immediate sensory experience. That is why, instead of a sermon warning us against strong opinions, we have the image of a noisy cart rolling across a cobbled street. We have the image of a cat, testing the ground before it moves.
Finally, haiku tend to raise questions rather than provide answers. Was the sober poet also testing the ground before expressing himself, as prudent cats do? All we know is that, in the process, he has left too much “bottled up inside”. Such unanswered questions should not trouble us. What matters is that we have caught a glimpse, an image that was hidden from us before. Like the old lovers in the first haiku, we are seeing something familiar as if for the first time, so that we remember how extraordinary it is.
In the next few days, write two or three haiku of your own on any subject, using the simplest, clearest words you can find.
The annual AVBOB Poetry Competition closes at 23:59 on 30 November 2024 and reopens in 2025. Visit www.avbobpoetry.co.za and register to enter.
So it is refreshing to turn to poems written in very short, simple forms. Perhaps the simplest of these is the haiku, a Japanese form consisting of 17 syllables written in three lines with a syllable count of five, seven and five.
The late Hugh Hodge, founder and for many years master of ceremonies at Off the Wall (Cape Town’s longest-running poetry platform), was a master of this form. For many years, he sent a haiku via SMS to his friends almost every day. Although as yet unpublished, they are fondly remembered by those who knew and loved Hugh.
Read the seven haiku below, chosen from a collection of thousands, and notice how the form makes it necessary to use the clearest, simplest language at all times.
`Your face is lined as
mine is. Each path tracks its age
in your loveliness.
Opinion rattles
over the cobbled backstreets
carting empty heads.
The sober poet
left too much to be desired
bottled up inside.
Cats’ careful back feet
test grounds before adding weight
to their opinions.
How unschooled are trees
that search for light and water
and are satisfied?
The philosopher
gleams in the afternoon light.
Soon he’ll sleep I think.
Haiku are gymnasts
everybody can catch
in time, if thoughtless.
Notice how these poems record ordinary events (trees, cats, sleepy humans) with precision, grace and humour. Also notice how Hugh gently makes fun of serious-minded people who think they have all the answers to life’s large questions. He prefers the unschooled wisdom of trees, the light-footed wariness of cats, the adoration of old and experienced lovers.
There is often an element of surprise here. For instance, opinion drives a noisy cart containing the empty heads of opinionated people. The opinions of soft-footed cats, on the other hand, are stowed in their back feet. The gleaming philosopher, usually attuned to abstract ideas, seems to be on the point of falling asleep, dazed by the afternoon sun. (The poem is dated, so we know that it was written in early autumn). The trees may be unschooled, but by the end of the poem we are left wondering if they are not wiser than humans after all.
Why are these short poems so memorable? Perhaps the final haiku included here offers a clue. We are told that haiku are supple and powerful, but that anyone who is thoughtless can catch them. In other words, haiku do not usually try to induce profound, abstract thoughts in us. Instead, they wake us up to a world of immediate sensory experience. That is why, instead of a sermon warning us against strong opinions, we have the image of a noisy cart rolling across a cobbled street. We have the image of a cat, testing the ground before it moves.
Finally, haiku tend to raise questions rather than provide answers. Was the sober poet also testing the ground before expressing himself, as prudent cats do? All we know is that, in the process, he has left too much “bottled up inside”. Such unanswered questions should not trouble us. What matters is that we have caught a glimpse, an image that was hidden from us before. Like the old lovers in the first haiku, we are seeing something familiar as if for the first time, so that we remember how extraordinary it is.
In the next few days, write two or three haiku of your own on any subject, using the simplest, clearest words you can find.
The annual AVBOB Poetry Competition closes at 23:59 on 30 November 2024 and reopens in 2025. Visit www.avbobpoetry.co.za and register to enter.
