The Gifts of Writing Haiku

So, I’ve been writing for Medium, and writing a lot of haiku lately.

I’m not going to lie. The primary reason is they’re simple and I can write them quickly.

I’ve been traveling a lot lately. Some days I’m slammed and don’t have much time because I have to drive. I can crank out a haiku of multiple stanzas in less than 15 minutes, find a picture, and post it.

Thus my daily commitment of posting to Medium has been met.

Now that I’m trying to get some attention in publications, haiku serves an even more vital purpose in that I can get a piece out there immediately, while waiting to see if a much longer piece will be accepted. And it will be some days before I find out, and before that piece will be out there.

American Haiku will either ride or die within hours. I just found them. Wish I’d known about that publication earlier.

Anyway, I digress.

An unexpected benefit has arisen from writing haiku. I found out that it’s good therapy.

What surprised me the most was that writing haiku made it easy for me to let go.

The precise rules of the 5, 7, 5 syllable count forced me to streamline in a way that my verbose self doesn’t come to naturally.

It’s a relief to write with such precision. It’s actually kind of addictive.

I can write haiku even when I can’t concentrate fully because the process doesn’t require much time or effort.

Having gone through a breakup recently, I have a lot of pent up rage and thus, my attention span suffers.

I’m livid with my ex, but that pales in comparison to the anger towards myself— for staying in a dead-end relationship for too long, for abandoning my values, and betraying the principles I hold dear by being in partnership with somebody who is the anti-thesis of everything I love.

So yeah, there’s lots of feelings, and haiku creates a discipline — whether I want it or not — to focus and whittle and get straight to the point.

From a selfish perspective, I also figured out that other writers will generously read haiku pieces because they know it won’t take more than seconds, yet they still get credit for reading and clapping for other writers.

I wonder if this is a great way to introduce my fiction, and my fictional characters. Maybe I will entice a new audience to my actual work of writing novels.

Here is the haiku I did of Ella Bandita. I must say it would make an excellent synopsis on the back. Would probably sell that novel more than the one that’s already there.

Ella Bandita

Is one tough bitch. Mad, bad, and

Dangerous to know,

She will steal your heart

And leave you cold, bereft of hope,

Without will or scope.

She loves to conquer

The invincible, haughty,

Proud sons of Hubris.

These men who take all,

Who love nobody but their

Precious selves until

They succumb to the

Predator’s stare. Cold blue eyes

That glitter and gleam

Large thick teeth, wide mouth,

Knowing sneer draws conquests near.

No man can resist

The lethal allure

Of the ugly seductress,

Called the Thief of Hearts.

She’s fearless and bold.

She is neither bought nor sold.

Nothing fazes her.

Ella Bandita

Aims their arrogance on them.

Sons of Narcissus

Helpless against her,

This huntress hungers for hearts

They discarded and scorned.

So live from your heart,

Lest you lament the loss of

Your most precious part.

This haiku did really well on Medium. Got a lot of views, a lot of fans; and better yet, readers lingered over this piece. It’s an encouraging sign.

So even though I only earn cents, not dollars, for each haiku I write, I kind of dig it.

No, I more than dig it.

And I’m curious to see how this goes.

 

Whirl a Girl

Isn’t it fabulous when love is fair?

There once was a girl

Named Sally. She met a girl.

We’ll call her Halley.

 

Sally and Halley

So loved to dally. So much that

Halley left Sally

 

Back in the alley.

Yet Sally found gay girl whirl,

Where she loved to twirl.

Image by Myriam Zilles from Pixabay

 

The party was hot.

The fete made a raw tempest

Of yearning and pain.

 

But Sally? She danced and

Sang at the gay girl whirl. She

Turned grief to gladness,

 

Or so it seemed. No?

Sally put up a brave front,

Hid her heart broken

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay

 

From Halley, who came

Later to the gay girl whirl.

Halley saw Sally

 

In the arms of Cal,

Short for Cally. And she swirled

Sally into a twirl.

 

Sally savored the

Illusion of liberty.

The sight of Halley

 

Made her flibberty.

Her heart pounded, her belly sank.

She blinked back the tears,

Image by Ulrike Mai from Pixabay

 

But Halley was near.

Halley saw Sally sobbing,

And went for the jeer.

 

High drama ensued.

Halley shooed the contender

Cally to the alley

 

Where Halley had left

Sally. At last, Sally came

back to her senses.

Image by inno kurnia from Pixabay

 

Dignity restored,

Sally told Halley to go

Rot in the alley.

 

Sally met Cally

And gave her shero a much

Deserved kiss, kiss, kiss.

 

Sometimes it’s so nice

When life is fair and love goes

To the deserving.

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