Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 417

First Place – Petru-Ioan Gârda

cauldron with brandy –
the owner speaks
sophisticated

Second Place – Valeria Tamaș
night on the mountain -
darkness fills
all abysses

Third Place – Adrian-Nicolae Popescu
Perseids –
my father writes to me again
in stardust

Mention – Grigore Chitul
hustle and bustle on the alleys -
each and every leaf
tries to find its place


Mention – Ana Urma
late autumn –
in grandpa’s tea
honeymoon

Mention – Valeria Tamaș
rapid turnover -
the queue from pensions
moves to invoices

Mention – Costin Iliescu
bronze bell -
listening to heavy metal
from father to son

HAIKU inspired by Haiku No. 417

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yellow spots
scattered throughout the garden -
painting by Pollock

Julia Ralia

Impressionist painting -
poppies in the field
from the moving train

Ana Drobot
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night on the mountain -
darkness fills
all abysses

Valeria Tamaş


speaking into the void -
the deep dark night fills
the entire valley

Ana Drobot
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sunny park -
on the hunchback’s shoulders
chestnuts in the rain

Argentina Stanciu


leafless park -
the school manager in class
offering chestnuts

Petruţa Ionescu
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a flock of butterflies
at the end of travel -
night lights

Ana Urma


flocks of dreams
scattered with smoke –
flickers in the night

Mihaela Cojocaru
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flickering candles
with every hurried footstep –
end of tunnel

Petruţa Ionescu


days of mourning -
lights on the Eiffel Tower
from the black burqa

Iliescu costin
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Last night on tv

Last night on tv:

thirty-nine –

the kid says he no longer

wants to count

I posted the above poem as a test, accompanied by a photo taken from the internet, on another page with the intent to explore to see whether the topic is of interest and what reactions it creates. The meaning of the poem is simple: enough, I don’t want anymore of this, leave me alone!

The things, as we deal with an attempt to write haiku/senryu, are presented with the characteristic reticence and reserve of the haiku authors. And the source fact is mentioned eliptically. Last night on tv is just a test (unusual in haiku, but usual in an epigram) to create the context: it is there that the scene ought to have occured. Of course it’s all about an as if type of scene, on tv there was announced only the increase of the deceased ones, which gave me the idea to write about a child who has learnt to count, but who refuses to do it further in this case (yet those on tv are still counting).

I do not attack the topic or theme directly, I do not say things straight, right away, I do not declare what I mean to say and believe directly, bluntly, literally. I do it obliquely evoking a minor, realistic fact, if we think about how a kid behaves when he is made to count for the reason that he has been taught how to count.  Apparently, counting is neutral towards what you count. This time, however...

I added the photograph only to raise the sensitivity of a bit lazy reader and to direct him towards a kid’s injured innocence. Thus dodging him to let the reactions of an excessive indignation seize him. And, possibly, to get him to accept that the inflammation and exaggerated gestures are inappropriate for haiku. But things can be felt even without this.

I was thus glad that Daniela Sorina Ciurariu reacted with an excellent, temperate indignation:

seventeen -

only a pair of blue eyes

shines unburnt

        When you write haiky you must first do your best to keep things muffled. A haiku is not an errupting volcano. It is just a puddle where you catch a few of its mirroring reflections.

(Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)

Note: The event that prompted writing these haiku was the fire in a Romanian club, Colectiv, from Bucharest, which occurred during the night of October 30, 2015. The group Goodbye to Gravity was holding a free concert. The fire was set because of the fireworks used indoors during the concert. It spread rapidly. 26 young persons were killed on the spot, while other 181 were hurt. Ten days after the tragedy, the number of dead victims reaches 47.

Last Ball

last ball –

leaping with the leaves

a ladybird

Luminița Ignea

There are poems which must be read right from the beginning by empathy with the author’s intentions. As if, guessing his thoughts, you yourself would be the author and would build a realistic fact, well above reality. And then you can feel that there is no way that the author could refer in the first line to a real ball, no matter how famous or wished for, let alone to the toxic ball on a Saturday evening.

Last ball is then just an invitation to attend and to take part mentally to an event which is not mundane at all, which takes place every year, when the life of the vegetal world and that of the insects ends. It’s a farewell dance which can last without anyone getting tired for days and weeks on end. The phrase – maybe from now on at least a kigo substitute – easily slips towards the figurative meaning that it shares together with the leaves and with the ladybug. The autumn atmosphere is only weaved through the fairytale threads of the leaves and of the ladybug stuck into the stretched warp in-between the last ball and the leaping. Beyond the elliptical part, of autumn, as well as of other kigo words that could have evoked it, not even the initiator and agent of the event, the wind, is not explicitly mentioned, but only suggested through the leaping, the bouncing of the leaves. Just as the dance itself, the essence of the ball, is only implied through the suggestions of the ball and of the leaping.

Last ball accumulates thus an ironic function as well, slightly malicious, directed towards the poor leaves involved in involuntary whirlpools and turbulences. Even more so as leaping, far from being a gallant invitation to dance, involves a brutal and violent punishing action of an alleged authority – arrested, being taken away by force.

If the two parts of the poem had not been put together like this, the ball would have remained a simple prom, and the leaping of the leaves just a pointless flight – different realities, detached from one another, lying stiff in their ordinary existence. That is, without the playful undertones of a suggestive dialogue. As they are, however, they challenge the reader’s imagination to cast them in unbelievable roles, as fabulous, as plausible. In a haiku, the composition elements forget what they are to dedicate themselves to some roles which reinvent themselves.

(Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)

Imitating a Good Poem – October 2015. Poems Standing Out

empty handed –

in grandma’s eyes

the moon

(Maria Doina Leonte)

Very well done is the opposition between hands and eyes: empty handed -/ in grandma’s eyes/ the moon. Grandma no longer has anything or can no longer offer anything with her tired hands, but love in her eyes compensates everything. Paradoxically, without handing anything out, her eyes have the most to offer.

empty stomach –

in every puddle a

full moon

(Florin Florian)

Well done for not trying to convince, but for allowing things to be as they are: empty stomach - / in every puddle a/ full moon. This time we do not know if the compensation is strong enough. Not even if the author’s irony is a bit cynical. The poem, however, is perfect.

the wind through my pockets -

on the park’s alleys

gold everywhere

(Dan Norea)

The wind through the pockets confirms a pecuniary lack that is perfectly in tune with the damaging gusts of wind in autumn. The lucky wanderer finds on the park’s alleys/ gold everywhere. Why should he not find this abundance enough for himself?

ending the Christmas carol –

in the apple tree from the orchard

moon and stars

(Luminita Ignea)

Ending the Christmas carol can be regarded as the equivalent of the empty larder, with the epty yard following the moments of euphoria.  The carol’s charm has disappeared, but there is a compensation to it: in the apple tree from the orchard, perhaps due to the magic effect of the carol, the stars and the moon have taken a seat. The moon from up there is right here, only one footstep away.

shaken cherry blossoms -

a smile grows

in their eyes

(Ana Drobot)

The cherry trees that have shaken up their blossoms symbolize the impoverishment of what has been, briefly, a delight for those who admired them. Part two – a smile grows / in their eyes - wants to record that the cherry trees in bloom were not left without a reaction in the hearts of the viewers. Their smile is a less eruptive one, however, a muffled but more complex gesture, including feelings of regret and some resignation and compassionate understanding.

(Comments: Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)