During the COVID-19 pandemic, I started writing haiku. Not for any reason in particular. Just to see if I could say something in less words.
I come from a family of poets and tailors. Both teach you the same thing: how to work within limits. Haiku felt like a quiet mix of both. A few lines, no wasted words. Thread the needle, cut the excess.
You’ve probably heard the rule: Five syllables. Seven. Five.
That’s it. It doesn’t leave much room for fluff. You have to pick your words carefully. You learn to say less and mean more.
It’s a small frame, but it holds a lot. A feeling. A moment. A joke you thought of while half-asleep. I kept writing more than I planned to.
Here are a few I’ve written:
girl in the window
as raindrops fall on her face
lost in a daydream
I can offer more
rain check on a stormy night
take it or leave it
how to say “love you”
in seventeen syllables
can someone teach me?
I am drowning here
she’s a category five
center of the storm
the rain in Bahrain
falls in another country
all we get is fog
a girl at starbucks
puts messy hair in a bun
orders a latte
What I like about haiku is that you can’t explain too much. You just place the scene and walk away.
If you’ve never tried one, it’s simple:
Pick a moment. Count the syllables. Say it plain.
And if it feels too quiet or strange, good. You’re doing it right.