Landscape of the Heart
                                 by Marjorie Buettner

When I write haiku, I try to follow what Bashō calls "a glimpse of the under glimmer." Haiku is a new language which sees with the eyes of the heart, revealing what the heart thinks and the mind feels.

morning fog
the sound the river makes
when I close my eyes

first buds of spring . . .
I change the washer's setting
to delicate

Haiku is a poetry of sensation--of senses. An ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic text says it all: "When the eyes see, the ears hear, and the nose breathes, they report to the heart. It is the heart that brings forth every issue and the tongue that repeats the thought of the heart." To report this "thought of the heart" and in order for sensation to be thoughtful, you must expose yourself to what surrounds you, you must be a transmitter; a translator of sense impressions.

the slow sifting down
of fine silt in the lake
summer moon rise

migrating turtles . . .
the way the river
turns on itself

You try to engage your senses, always trying faithfully to translate impressions, trying, too, for honest in perception--one of the most important aspects of writing haiku.

dark of the moon
absentmindedly tracing
an old thin scar

loon calls
my daughter drawing circles
near the fire

Sometimes there is an alignment between what is inside with what is outside and this becomes a moment which has the power to transform--which is the closest definition of haiku spirit that I can give you.

crabapple blossoms--
something gone a-flowering
on the inside, too

this spring night . . .
suddenly my desires
are very simple

More often than not, haiku makes you more aware of light and dark, sound and silence, fragrance and no fragrance, taste and the absence of taste, touch and non-touch; all of this occurs in the framework of the form.

frozen eyes
of the just netted fish
winter rainbow

seeing it now
the way the morning sun belongs
to the summer grass

moonless night
I borrow the light
of snow

This poetry is about almost nothing which reveals everything; it is the work of the poet to keep all the senses free and impressionable in order to record faithfully one moment in time, but the mystery must remain.

so many layers
of warmth in the lake . . .
summer solstice

slow canoeing--
each paddle of the oar
divides the sky

And with this poetry of the senses grows an awareness of how time mingles with timelessness, how life touches the hand of death.

leaf-burning time--
a crescent moon carries
its own certain dark

lunar eclipse
I step into
my own darkness

By allowing yourself to perceive the world around you, you are allowing grace to enter your life, you are allowing prayer, too, that deeper prayer which goes beyond words to enter the heart.

making silence
we light the solstice candles
before dusk

the smallest beads
of an insect's eggs--
wind-changed leaves

a trace of light
on each falling seed
spring moon

To record a moment in time allows one to step out of time. It is magic. It is meditation.

deep shade
the secrecy of leaves
before rain

moonless night . . .
guided by the fragrance
of the garden

Haiku demands that the poet cultivate all powers of attention in order to actually attend the world without reservations. If this is accomplished, the landscape of the heart imbedded within the poem can and will sustain.

as if we could
change our lives . . .
summer moon

"morning fog" Third Place Hoshino Takashi Award, 2003
"first buds of spring" H.M. Harold G. Henderson Award, 2004
"the slow sifting down" Snapshots 2004 Calendar Contests
"migrating turtles" Snapshot's 2005 Calendar Contest
"dark of the moon" Acorn, Summer/Fall, 2003
"loon calls" First Place Harold G. Henderson Award, 2002
"crabapple blossoms" Asahi Haiku Network, July, 2002
"this spring night" First Place, Tinywords Haiku Contest, 2003
"frozen eyes" Third Place, Robert Spiess Award, 2004
"moonless night" H.M. James W. Hackett International Award, 2003
"so many layers" H.M. Bashō's Memorial Haiku Contest, 2003
"a trace of light" Modern Haiku V.XXX, #3, 1999
"deep shade" Modern Haiku, V.XXX,#3, 1999
"as if we could" H.M. Japan's 5th Suruga-Baika Award, 2003

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