A cold breeze cuts
through my woolen cap . . .
I can’t go home.
Ken Wagner on Haiku Habits
Woolen Cap | Wind haiku poem example | 113008
November 30, 2008 · 17 Comments
Categories: Haiku Poems About Wind
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A cold breeze cuts
through my woolen cap . . .
I can’t go home.
Ken Wagner on Haiku Habits
Categories: Haiku Poems About Wind
17 responses so far ↓
Adriaan // December 1, 2008 at 11:18 am |
And?
To make it more interesting you could either cut this up into two images, one of which will be the background to the one that has the focus, or you could add a background image to this one. I think the first possibility has the lowest chance of succeeding. But maybe if you separate the ice from the rest and say one or two words more about it, it might work.
If you choose to add an image, you could use all kinds of things for a background image, e.g. your bald skull.
If this would have been a haiku by Issa, the poet’s poverty would have been enough to make this a good poem. But even then it would still have read something like: “Winter approaching. / A cold breeze penetrates the gaps / in my woolen cap.” And my knowledge that Issa won’t be able to buy a new cap, and that the winter will get colder, would add to the poem.
Try not to think you have enough material when you have only one image. Wait till you have two or preferably more, and then start juxtaposing; focussing, taking to the background; one image first, other image last, and vice versa; one short, other long, and vice versa (or both equally long); etc. Try to mix images that resonate well, or clash nicely.
Ken Wagner // December 1, 2008 at 7:09 pm |
Great advice about multiple images and combinations. How about -
Sharp ice breeze
penetrates the gaps in my
only woolen cap.
I think “only” draws attention to the cap.
or
Ice breeze cuts
through my woolen cap -
Home is far.
I like both directions, for different reasons.
Adriaan // December 2, 2008 at 3:30 am |
The second direction looks more promising.
Ken Wagner // December 2, 2008 at 10:30 pm |
Was -
Sharp ice breeze
penetrates the gaps in my
woolen cap.
Adriaan // December 3, 2008 at 4:44 am |
Home is NOT far? I thought it was far…
This one works too of course. Now it focusses on the warmth and comfort of home, mildly contrasted to your cold head during your short walk. So this one is about home and warmth, and the other one was (or would have been) focussing on loneliness and the cold.
A focus on the feeling of being cold and lonely far from home would have made a more chilling haiku, I think. It would have brought out the contrast between the lonely cold and the warmth of home much better.
It’s like the difference between you sticking one toe in, or you having to swim a mile in the cold water.
Ken Wagner // December 3, 2008 at 6:52 am |
You said I could make things up! Actually, home was not far away, but it was cold out and my walk was far from over, so it felt far.
I thought the rhythm of “Home is far” too vague, and wanted to sharpen it a bit. “Home is not far” immediately popped up, and the rhythm felt right. Then the meaning felt right.
Alternatives were:
Home is still far
Home is so far
Home is too far
Home is far off
Home is not close
What do you think?
Adriaan // December 3, 2008 at 8:02 am |
I’d go with “still”.
Or a completely different sentence. There are many other ways to arrive at the same feeling.
Ken Wagner // December 4, 2008 at 9:35 pm |
What about -
A cold breeze
penetrates my woolen cap,
I can’t go home.
Adriaan // December 5, 2008 at 4:21 am |
Ouch! You can’t go home… That makes it really sharp. It almost sounds as if you don’t have a home. But as a haiku it’s quite good.
Ken Wagner // December 5, 2008 at 5:42 am |
This one is the most truthful, too. It is not that home is far or not far. I can’t go home – yet. The walk is not done. I also like the sound that “can’t” adds.
Thanks for helping me with this.
Was -
A cold breeze
penetrates my woolen cap.
Home is not far.
Adriaan // December 5, 2008 at 7:47 am |
“The walk is not done,” I like that kind of priorities.
Kris // January 7, 2009 at 11:02 pm |
Ken (& Adriaan)
So I totally forget about your woolen cap.
I like both the process you’re going through and the meaning a lot, but I’m not sure about “I can’t go home.”
For one thing, it doesn’t have a resonant end-of-poem sound in English . . . don’t ask me to explain, that’s just a feeling.
For the second, it throws me into wondering about plot . . WHY can’t you go home? No home? too far? pissed everyone off?
Maybe that’s just me though. . . .
If I wrote it I might make the “can’t go home” more explict:
“Far from home” “I can’t go home yet” “Miles to go” “miles still to walk”
Even steal from an old song: “500 miles from my home” (though come to think of it “miles to go” steals from Robert Frost a bit)
Any of that work for you?
Best,
Kris
Ken Wagner // January 8, 2009 at 8:26 pm |
All great suggestions, Kris.
Personally, I like that the final line jolts the reader to a different place, even if it is gracelessly non-poetic. Once there, you “can’t go home.” The land is cold, and the wool won’t work with the wind. Or, as Adriaan would say, Ouch.
With Eliot, “I should have been a pair of ragged claws / Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.” I just don’t belong.
Kris // January 8, 2009 at 8:48 pm |
Ken, one thing I’m coming to admire about you is how graciously you take comments and suggestions.
You are right on both counts: the last line jolts the reader, & it’s non-poetic, which of course isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
So now I have an insane urge to suggest you tinker with the middle line. For me, “penetrates” is slightly formal languge, but not formal or poetic _enough_ to add much special. Could you see going back to “cuts through”?
I think that would make it stronger.
thanks for listening!
Kris
Ken Wagner // January 9, 2009 at 3:26 pm |
I like the suggestion, Kris. What about -
A cold breeze cuts
through my woolen cap,
I can’t go home.
I like the hard “c” sounds that run through it.
Kris // January 9, 2009 at 6:56 pm |
Yeahhh!
Ken Wagner // January 9, 2009 at 8:40 pm |
Was -
A cold breeze
penetrates my woolen cap,
I can’t go home.