Talk about a cornucopia of poetry! For this bonus post, people took me up on my offer of multiple forms. I received not only haiku, but also tanka and tan-renga, and submissions came from three different continents!
It was a delight to put this post together over the course of a cold winter afternoon, drinking multiple cups of tea. I hope you enjoy the creative bounty as much as I did.
Haiku
In Deb Koen’s first haiku, the second and third lines display a masterful example of double meaning, reinforcing the sense of abundance that comes from a harvest. The produce features an array of colors; each of these colors was produced by, and harvested from, the planet itself. The second sense of meaning comes from the range of colors available at a produce market. The color range among the harvested crops is expansive; every shade of the planet is represented here. We have not just an abundance of physical nourishment, but a feast of delights for the eyes as well.
farmstand every color from earth
Deb Koen, USA. This haiku originally appeared in Haiku Canad Review, Winter 2020.
In the second haiku, Koen associates the comfort that both food and music can provide. For most people, comfort foods are rich and hearty. What makes them comforting is not just their heartiness. but also their familiarity. Just as delicious food prepared with care gets passed around a holiday table, an LP of comforting music rotates not just in physical space, but in and out of the listener’s consciousness. In this haiku I see abundance (hearty comfort food) and celebration (food being passed around the table), but I also wonder if this poem is about a meal taking place after a funeral: the food comforts the grieving, and the music brings back good memories of the departed loved one.
comfort food circling the table a Beatles LP
Deb Koen, USA. This haiku originally appeared in Frogpond 44:2.
Tanka
Hassane Zemmouri’s first tanka gives us an image of a child’s joy at harvesting berries. There are two bounties: the fruit off the vine, and the experience of watching a child’s face light up. This poem reinforces the concept that food is not just physical nourishment. The connections we make to the land, and to each other, through the processes of harvesting, cooking, and eating, shine through in this brief work.
picking season- the full basket doesn’t accommodate the girl’s joy her smile more delicious than the expected jam
Arabic translation:
Hassane Zemmouri, Algeria. This tanka originally appeared in Take5, Issue 3.
Hassane’s second tanka reminds me of picking apples with my nephew this fall. Our neighbors have an apple tree, but weren’t interested in harvesting the fruit. My nephew and I went out with an apple picker and got as many as we could. When he was concerned about bruised or spotted apples, I reminded him of what his great-grandmother believed: that the ugly apples make the best applesauce. After harvesting the apples, my partner turned them into applesauce, and saved the peels to make jelly. I appreciate Hassane’s tanka because it illustrates so well how a short poem can awaken a beloved memory in a stranger half a world away.
end of picking- the mother chooses the bruised apples for jam children dream of candy apples
French translation:
fin de cueillette- la mère choisit les pommes meurtries pour la confiture les enfants rêvent de pommes d’amour
Arabic translation:
Hassane Zemmouri, Algeria
Tan-Renga
In their first tan-renga, Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam magnify the sense of celebration that often comes at harvest time. Glass Gem corn originates in Oklahoma, and was developed by a farmer named Carl Barnes. It took him many years to collect the seeds and cross-breed the corn he found to create the vivid, translucent kernels we see today. It’s a rare breed of corn, and in this tanka, I see a celebration of the ingenuity and patience required to cultivate heirloom stock. Because rainbows are also associated with the queer community, I think that this tanka implies the marriage of queer farmers, a portion of the population that often gets overlooked. (You can read more about that at NPR.)
stripping husks from glass gem corn an heirloom of rainbow colours farmer kisses farmer
Christina Chin, Malaysia, and Uchechukwu Onyedikam, Nigeria
The New Yam Festival is a celebration that takes place in Kogi state, Nigeria. It celebrates the farming season, as well as community and culture of of the Igbo people. It typically falls at the end of August or beginning of September, depending on when the first new yams appear. This tan-renga reminds me that while many holidays and festivals have set dates, the Earth does not follow the human-made calendar to the exact day. The world releases its bounty on its own time.
New Yam Festival the Igbo people dig into the ridges end of rainy season
Uchechukwu Onyedikam, Nigeria and Christina Chin, Malaysia
In their first tan-renga, Christina Chin and Linda Ludwig present a wintry scene warmed by delicious food and intimacy. While crabbing season varies by region, in much of the world, it starts in late autumn and ends in mid to late winter. While moonless nights happen all year long, there’s something about the darkness of winter that makes the lack of moon in this poem feel more potent. Yet the crabs, being in season, are juicy and delicious. I interpret a sensuality in this poem not just from the word “succulent,” but also because in some parts of the world, shellfish are considered an aphrodisiac. Regardless of whether or not I’m correct, there is still a delightful coziness in this tan-renga.
the traps heavy with crabs river with no moon succulent dinner for two
Christina Chin, Malaysia, and Linda Ludwig, USA
This final tan-renga contains historical allusions, illustrating the ways in which food is bound up in culture both past and present. The Silk Road existed as a network for traders exchanging goods between Asia and Europe, between 130 B.C.E. and 1453 C.E. Commodities included textiles, animals, and of course, foods and spices. The gogi berry comes from a shrub native to China, and long been used in both Chinese and Korean cooking and medicine. Today, people in the western world can find gogi berry tea sold as an alternative health product. What started as an indigenous ingredient is now a decontextualized commodity. Nonetheless, we can connect to the image of gogi berry and ginger blended into a simple tea, and imagine the connection the drinker might feel to generations past.
the silk road old world treasures chi tea a hot concoction of goji berry ginger
Linda Ludwig, USA and Christina Chin, Malaysia
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Thanks to everyone who contributed poems to this special post. I look forward to blogging again in 2023! For now, may you have a peaceful close of the year.
With a bonus Tuesday in November, I decided I wanted to host another community blog post! (View the May community post here.) The first submission has already come in! I look forward to reading all the poems that come in and assembling them.
Theme: Harvest
Deadline: 11:59 p.m. CST on Wednesday, November 23rd
Notes: Haiku in languages other than English are welcome; please provide a translation. Experimental haiku are also welcome. If sending previously published haiku, remember to provide publication credit.
Please reach out if you have questions, or if you have issues using the form.
In Gratitude Thank you to our anonymous donor who bought me three coffees this month! I’m now 20% of the way toward my goal of covering website costs for the year. Those who want to support the podcast financially can do so at: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/culinarysaijiki/.
Join the Conversation If you’d like to be on the podcast, visit https://culinarysaijiki.com/join-the-conversation/ and fill out the form. My life is a little hectic right now, so if I don’t follow up in a timely manner, send me a reminder.
Theme Music “J’attendrai” by Django Reinhardt, performing at Cleveland Music Hall, 1939. This recording is in the public domain. Hear the whole song at https://clevelandhistorical.org/files/show/6045.
When planning this project, I decided that I would publish posts and podcast episodes on Tuesdays. Since there’s a fifth Tuesday in August, that means an extra week for content. When there was a bonus Tuesday back in May, I did a blog post in which I published community submissions around a theme. For August, I want to do a bonus podcast, again featuring community recordings.
To participate in the open mic, click the link to my Anchor voicemail box: https://anchor.fm/culinarysaijiki/message. Record your haiku according to the guidelines below. If you run into any trouble, please contact me! I want to help you record your haiku and be part of the episode. The submission deadline is Saturday, August 28th at 11:59 pm CST.
Guidelines:
Each poet is limited to two haiku
Before reading your haiku, please say your name or pen name and, if comfortable, where you’re writing from
Please read each haiku twice
Haiku should mention food, and connect to the transitional aspect of seasons, with an emphasis on autumn
Submissions that do not follow these guidelines will be disqualified
First, thanks to Pamela Pfautsch for buying me a coffee and supporting The Culinary Saijiki. I appreciate that people I haven’t (yet) met in person are as excited about the project as I am.
This bonus post features haiku and related forms from community readers. Thanks to everyone who sent me their work. I had fun reading it, and I plan to do more of these in the future. Look for announcements of future bonus posts in August and November.
I was also excited to have poems from across the world! I love to eat cuisines from all over (I think Korean food is my favorite . . . but it’s a tough call!), and am glad to be able to represent different traditions here.
Oche Akor brings us two spring haiku. While I admit that they didn’t quite touch on the holiday aspect of the prompt, I still wanted to include these two in the post because I loved them so much. (I’ve been known to be a stickler as an editor, but a poem that surprises or intrigues me can override that tendency.)
This first haiku resonated with me because I’ve had weevils infest flour and rice . . . but also am in a position where, though the waste is lamentable, I can toss out the tainted food. This haiku is a compelling reminder that not everyone has that option.
spring breeze the taste of weevils in my beans . . .
Oche Akor, Lokoja, Kogi State, Nigeria
While the spring planting season isn’t specifically a holiday, there are traditions and cultures where it’s a festive time. Planting of crops is an investment in the future, a hope for a bountiful harvest in the fall. I feel the poem below contains a sense of wariness, which, given the state of agriculture around the world, certainly makes sense. These days, it seems natural to temper optimism with something else.
corn planting . . . footprints in the sand Going nowhere
Hwaro gives us two haiku that celebrate sharing food. During COVID, my partner and I have gotten into the habit of going on picnics. It’s a way to enjoy good food outdoors, and at a distance. Hwaro’s first haiku reminded me of our picnic dates. (Also, tteokbokki is one of my most favorite foods. As I type, I’m wishing I had some!)
Gimbap roll for each Tteokbokki to pique the tongue and enjoy the spring breeze
Hwaro, Coquitlam, British Columbia, Canada
While the haiku below doesn’t explicitly mention Father’s Day, I felt a strong connection with that particular holiday. Sometimes, it feels like there’s no way to fully honor your parents and all they have done for you. Yet the act of sharing a meal together, and being totally present, can sometimes be enough.
Father, I’ve got nothing to offer you shall we share jjajangmeyon?
Pamela Pfautsch brings us a tanka-style poem that made me think of all the delightful treats that emerge in summer. Whether enjoying a cold ice cream on a hot day, or the natural sweetness of fresh berries, cherries, and peaches, summer is a season full of sweetness. Haiku Haven captures the lushness of a berry bush, or the dessert spread at a picnic.
A breezy wisp Of honeycomb sighs Whoosh of treats Flutter on honeybee wings Summer’s sweet begins.
I admit that I can’t resist a good pun, and Peter Schmidt made me laugh with this haiku. Peter packs a great deal of imagery into this small poem, and the picture of fudge and melting ice cream merging makes me think about the ways in which long, hot summer days can melt into each other, with time slowing down in the heat.
Chocolate Sunday Hot fudge sun melts ice cream breeze Scoop of May in June
Geoff Pope offers this haiku with a bit of mystical quality to it. I love coconut soup, and there are many variations; they can range from creamy white to orange or green, depending on the other ingredients. In Geoff’s poem, I picture a moon-white bowl of soup, enjoyed at night at a solstice festival. The bowl has a bit of glow to it, maybe from outdoor lights, or maybe from something a little more magical. I like the idea of being able to eat moonlight, and Geoff’s poem makes that feel like a possibility.
Robert Epstein was the first person to send haiku for this bonus post! These haiku invoke the delights of family. In fact, in my acceptance letter to Robert, I noted that the child in the monoku below could easily be my nephew! The word “river” invokes water, so I picture a blue-raspberry Popsicle running in rivulets, dripping onto the lawn below.
that river of popsicle down the bare-chested toddler
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA
While the she in this poem isn’t necessarily a child, I picture a young girl here, someone young enough to not care what someone might think about her spitting watermelon seeds on the ground. I think a child would also find it amusing to time their spitting with the show. When I read the following haiku, I can’t help but think of a girl making extra fun for herself on a summer night.
watermelon seeds— she spits them out in concert with the fireworks
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA
While Robert’s last haiku is based in memory and written from the perspective of adulthood, the wonder of childhood runs through in this haiku. Maybe the children didn’t appreciate the efforts at the time, but as an adult, you could feel a sense of reverence for the way in which your mother took the time to cut small pieces of cool melon on a hot day.
the simple way she cut into small pieces the cantaloupe for us
~ in memory of my mother
Robert Epstein, El Cerrito, CA, USA Originally published in The Helping Hand Haiku Anthology, ed. Robert Epstein, 2020
Mary Stevens brings multisensory haiku that to me capture the quotidian essence of summer. In her first haiku, I picture someone sitting out on a porch in the evening, as the air cools down. Maybe the neighbors are cooking, maybe they’re eating, maybe they’re even arguing. You can probably hear them because the windows are open. This haiku makes me think about how everything seems open and permeable in summer (at least when it’s not so hot you have to lock yourself in with the air conditioner).
summer evening the neighbors’ kitchen sounds
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA Originally published in Upstate Dim Sum, 2021
Even though this poem also doesn’t name a specific holiday, the way the middle line serves as a linchpin for the first and second lines makes me want to read it over and over. This haiku not only makes me think of eating an antipasto platter on a warm evening (one of my favorite summer dinners), but it’s packed with sensuality despite being only eight words long.
pitting an olive in my mouth his name
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA Original published in Modern Haiku 50.3, 2019
Mary’s final haiku incorporates music. This poem reminds me of the ways in which ice cream truck music can be jarring. Sometimes it’s one consistent tune, but other trucks will cycle through a variety of tinny renditions of old songs. The music gets stronger as the truck approaches, but then after the ice cream is purchased, the music fades away, just as summer fades into fall.
summer’s end the counterpoint melody of the ice cream truck
Mary Stevens, Hurley, NY, USA Originally published in The Heron’s Nest XXII, Number 4, 2020
Thanks again to everyone who sent work for this bonus issue! In June, I’ll wrap up my series on initial observations about food and haiku. Also, be on the lookout for the podcast launch on June 21st!
