- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
all black scrum—
the darkness within
in three lines
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
a mud crab
digging in deeper . . .
tidal shift
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
darkening words—
a frog croaks in the sound
of itself
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
a helicopter
crystallises into sound
from the blueness
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
rising light—
clouds effervesce along
day's plimsoll line
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
crescent moon
a smile of benevolence
goes awry
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
grey matter
on an intercept course
between seer and seen
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
after a spent day
words sink back into the slime
of their origin
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
the stillness
after the birth
unravelling star charts
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
All Soul's Day
the combatants tally up
their losses
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
cancer ward
nothing imagined now
is not the moon
in memory of H. Gene Murtha
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
twilight walk—
a pregnant girl praises me
for going barefoot
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
womb-dead words—
'mama' and 'tata'
missing still
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
Bashō and the Sound of Water
Midway on the way he was bound upon, Bashō was seized by a restless spirit that coaxed him into the heartland, where poetry and spirituality become one, and where he could follow the footfall of the ancients through Japan's poetic spaces. He yielded to the seductive sound of pond ripples lapping the mysterious edge of the dreadful sphere of Pascal.
Well over three hundred years after Dante, Bashō looked to wanderer-priest Saigyō to be the Virgil who would inspire him through the narrow and difficult roads that wound ahead and within. Landscapes, through which he wandered, became infused with collective memory and complex emotions encompassing the profane right through to the sacred, and culminating in true vision as he beheld Sado Island.
Some years later, he wrote several autumn haiku infused with a despair born of an overwhelming loneliness. Falling ill on his final journey, his spirit feverishly searched a desolate limbo for what may have been his Beatrice and the love which moves the sun and the other stars.
The need to hear the sound beyond stillness drives all our journeying, and is its fulfilment.
midnight—
my lungs widen
with stars
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
waxing crescent—
the earth-borne fresh-faced
their song primal
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
midnight—
my lungs widen
with stars
THF Per Diem Archive
World of Haiku: Poets of New Zealand
World of Haiku: Poets of New Zealand
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
earth stump—
shadows spiral down
its yesterdays
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
by cloud light
a nuclear family
shadows the wall
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
rising or falling?
the intonation of all
these questions
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
remaking haiku
in creation's own image
and likeness
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
in spring rain
the depth of reflection
that passes for me
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
in spring rain
the distance once so near
now so far
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
in spring rain
mockery of the drought
still to come
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
spring kigo . . .
and I dotting 'i's
crossing 't's
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
in spring rain
scarlet runner beans
crack the surface
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
climate change—
a tuatara through
its third eye
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: October 2015
Spring
something moves with darkness fresh green
planting fruit of the earth human hands
remember man the dust in we sprang
in blossom born butterflies
nothing so near lushness of now
ground dark the end begin