Spicy or not? Comments about Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 419

The taste of the group has moved towards quite spicy poems. I give the word a meaning as close to the idea of seasoning and not something indecent or frivolous. The appreciated poems usually have a pun, a play upon words: first snow -/ growing heavy/ the spider’s canvas, a reversal of perspective obtained by mirroring: twilight on the pond -/ going down quietly/ the snowflakes in the sky, a slight drift of words from the neutral, general meaning to one, here, with protective allusions: autumn rain -/ a leaf covering/ the cup of coffee, an obvious allegorical pivot: eye hospital- / very slowly rising up/ again the stars, a hint to the similarity in appearance: cabbage rolls for fasting - / wrapped up completely/ even the beggar, in coloring: first snow -/ mother lays on the bed/ the white blanket or to a suspected human suffering: first snow -/ shaking in summer clothes/ the scarecrow.

I commented on almost all of the poems which were given awards this week. Certainly, being spicy is not everything in the appreciation of the poems, but they can prevail in their assessment because they are more conspicuous, more pronounced, swifter, and more tingling. A poem like the one below, which lacks these ingredients which impress the taste buds, will often be neglected: 

dry rustling

of the wandering leaves - 

mistletoe wrapped in dew 

 

Why? Because it has some other, less tingling, flavor. Its hints are more simple and more sober. They are not doubled by a sign made an accomplice by winking. The poem leaves the images alone to speak silently with no verbal artifice. It does not help in any way and it also does not force the present elements to testify. And it lets the reader to feel the possible relationships between the dry leaves, which have fallen, driven by the wind, and the mistletoe which is still green in the empty crown of some tree. In-between what has withered away and what remains alive and fresh. Only the wandering leaves, a phrase which is quite common and a bit metaphorical, can make us remember Topârceanu. The mistletoe wrapped in dew, in contrast with the surrounding dryness, is the only one that can drop an allusion to a sympathetic weeping of a still living witness.

(Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)

Romanian Weekly Kukai no. 419

First Place – Vasile Conioși Mesteșanu

first snow -

growing heavy

the spider’s canvas

Second Place – Florin Florian

twilight on the pond -

going down quietly

the snowflakes in the sky

Second Place – Lucreția Horvath

autumn rain –

a leaf covering

the cup of coffee

Third Place – Vasilica Grigoraș

eye hospital -

very slowly rising up

again the stars

Mention – Rodica P. Calotă

wilderness -

only the woolves’ howl

fills up the forest

Mention – Valeria Tamaș

whines in the craddle -

grandpa paints again

the wooden coffer

Mention – Vasile Conioși Mesteșanu

cabbage rolls for fasting -

wrapped up completely

even the beggar

Mention – Petru-Ioan Gârda

first snow –

mother lays on the bed

the white blanket

Mention – Argentina Stanciu

                                                        first snow -
                                    shaking in summer clothes
                                            the scarecrow

Poems Standing Out November 2015 Haiku Club

The poem proposed for imitation was:

scattered flock of birds –
in the eyes of the doe
a star flickers

(Luminiţa Ignea)

The following poems stood out:

scattered flock –

through the soldier’s helmet

a patch of sky

(Daniela Lǎcrǎmioara Capotǎ)

The poem imitates the original in the ellipse of the cause, which is depicted only through effects. An explosion (one shot, one bullet) has alarmed the flock of birds and knocked the soldier’s helmet off. Also elliptical is the allusion to the soldier's death, since through the protective helmet we can see the sky. As an irony, the access to a piece of heaven is facilitated by a murdering bullet.

shaken poppies –

the sunset floods

the quail’s eyes

(Florin Florian)

Here, the allusion to the possible death of the quail is more than muffled. Perhaps in this case as well there has been a gunshot and it shook the poppies’ petals off, but its effect is muffled by the structure of the poem, as if it were just a breeze. The only witnesses, the eyes of the quail, receive, with the same tenderness and resignation, both petals and sunset. Flooded as by a large sea of blood.

(comments by Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)