HAIKU DIALOGUE – Working with the Soil – traditional soil work – commentary

Working with the Soil with Guest Editor Arvinder Kaur

Human beings share an inextricable relationship with the soil. The word “human” itself is derived from humus, the organic matter, symbolising the intertwined nature of human life and soil. Our connection gets established right at the time of birth, and we share a deep emotional bond with our land. Deriving sustenance from it we take pride in our Mother Earth and swear by its sanctity. Many cultures have deep, spiritual connections with the soil evident in the myths of Earth goddesses and creation stories in folklore where legendary figures are born from it and mysteriously vanish into it. Some of the earliest means of livelihood are connected to the soil. Agriculture and farming have been our mainstay since time immemorial. Soil shapes our food securities and is, therefore, the backbone of economies. An agriculturist, like anyone else, faces lots of challenges. Natural calamities can ruin a whole year’s hard work and sometimes a poor farmer finds it hard to meet the daily needs of his family. The recent floods in northern India have completely altered the nature of the soil which may require scientific intervention not many will be able to afford.

The gardener works with the soil and draws livelihood by nurturing and manicuring. Horticulturists and viticulturists too transform the soil and bring their own science and artistry to it. Potters mould clay to shape their own destinies and perhaps those of others. Earthen lamps light up homes in a most beautiful and aesthetic way. Then there are brick-makers, construction workers, architects, archeologists, environmentalists…the list is endless. Modern-day farming also benefits from the work of soil scientists, engineers and conservationists. Everything reminds us of the earth beneath our feet and when it shakes, it spells disaster.

However, it remains true that the earth is the symbol of quiet patience, receiving whatever is given to it, a fallen leaf or a yet-to-germinate seed, bearing the weight of our lives, our cities and keeping our histories close to its bosom. So, our relationship with the soil is not just professional, it is something much more intimate and deep. It is a relationship of faith and of hope. The farmer who sows the seed knows and hopes the earth will nurture it. The gardener tends the flower bed with a hope that the earth shall respond with an exquisite reward for his hard work. As the potter shapes the clay, he also shapes memories. There is no better teacher for the lesson of decay and renewal than the earth itself. And this lesson is the very basis of our lives. We are born on this earth, and we are bound to return to it.

How do we relate to our soil? In the weeks that follow we shall explore the fundamentals of this relationship.

Below is Arvinder’s commentary for traditional soil work:

tapping sound
of a potteress’s paddle
the child’s lullaby

Milan Rajkumar
Imphal, India

Most of the time hard work and labour remain unsung, hardly ever eulogised. This poem celebrates both abundantly. It also evokes a lineage of women quietly working and yet sustaining a tenderness. The baby, the craft of the potteress exist in quiet harmony which is gentle yet imbued with a life-giving clay scent. It is poignant to know that the tapping sound is the child’s lullaby. The imagery is luminous and invites the reader to enter the world of the potteress and her child.

The tapping sound operates on a level of sonic minimalism and is the axis around which the poem is so deftly constructed. The alliteration in ‘potteress’s paddle’ adds a soft and sensory quality, creating mimesis.

The image of the potteress and the mother both nurturing creation is extremely endearing.

periwinkle dusk
I loiter in the garden
my parents tended

John Hawkhead
UK

One is immediately taken in by the softness created by ‘periwinkle dusk’. On the level of technique it works like a kigo by atmosphere. Periwinkle as a flower is loaded with symbolism. The foreverness that it suggests hints at the dual nature of life – constant yet transient. In Hindi the flower “periwinkle” translates into sadabahar as in a flower that will bloom in all seasons and correspondingly it hints at the perpetual renewal of life irrespective of wars and calamities.

The second part of the poem, the phrase, L2 and L3 seem to take us back to the comforting world of childhood that we always remain reluctant to leave behind. That is what the aimless lingering of the word ‘loiter’ suggests. The haiku is rich in traditional aesthetics of wabi, sabi and yūgen. This dusk-poem does not read cliched at all, there is a touch of restrained melancholy and wistfulness that the modern world is otherwise so drastically devoid of.

dressed for the garden the most aubergine of aubergines

petro c.k
Seattle, Washington

One-line poems are fascinating in their own way. Depending on where you put the kire they catapult into an altogether different and yet an interesting meaning. The reader can choose where to put the cut. Maybe some of us see an implied cut after ‘garden’ while others may see a pause after ‘the most’. Either way the poem doesn’t lose its internal rhythm. One may say that the poem relies on personification. At one level, yes, but at another it appears to be an indirect one. The effect is that of light humour when the reader envisions an aubergine all glossy and shiny, with a rotund belly, dressed for a party. It invokes an amusing picture full of karumi, the lightness of day-to-day living. The poem picks up something ordinary and lifts it to the level of extraordinary through linguistic rhythm, tone and colour.

preparing soil—
the farmer’s sweat falls
without a sound

Hifsa Ashraf
Rawalpindi, Pakistan

It is unsung labour again that this poem seeks to glorify, richly deserved by the quiet farmer in the act of simple living. The silence of his sweat falling is celebrated by the poet. The stage is set with the preparation of the soil. The em dash acting as kireji takes the movement from the external to the internal, to the reaction of being, the sweat, mirroring the unadorned existence of the farmer. The silence of the sweat opens a space of contemplation, gently nudging the world to sit up and notice. The farmer, the soil, the sweat take the readers into the world of Nature that is not just a landscape but a part of our reality.

As the sweat evaporates and the effort goes unrecognised the poem gently suggests impermanence. The silence at the end leaves the reader in a contemplative mood as so much remains unsaid.

growing older
my world the size
of this garden

Bryan Rickert
Belleville, Illinois

This is a haiku of acceptance, of detachment, of depth and of arriving at a peace denied to many. The ‘world’ is no longer what it used to be. It is no more a space swarming with nameless faces, it is something much closer to heart and is filled with a calming familiarity. It is quietly poignant and yet there is no direct statement of sadness. The ‘garden’ suggests a fulfilling life and ultimate refuge. It is a metaphor for what truly matters in the end, the secure spaces and an inner peace.

The pause after L1 invites the reader into the poem and the narrative deftly shifts from a broad spectrum to something tender yet concrete, celebrating the reality of life. The word choice of the poet is simple and plain and this is the strength that lends emotional clarity to the poem. The image of the garden is clear and comforting and becomes a metaphorical landscape for ageing. There is no complaint here but rather a simple observation which is the true haiku sensibility.

planting rice seedlings
a double stroke in the sketch
here and there

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi
Hyderabad, India

Rice planting holds a special place in the heart of a farmer as it does in Japanese poetry, symbolising life’s cycle, nature’s rhythm, purity and community. Poets like Basho have immortalised the songs and hard work of farmers, highlighting the beauty in rural labour and connecting it to refined art. ‘planting rice seedlings’ is a meditative gesture that evokes life’s rhythm and creativity. Then comes a surprising shift to another act of creation, that of the artist. The ‘double stroke’ is suggestive of Japanese aesthetics again, the world of sumi-e or ink drawing where each stroke is expressive. ‘here and there’ hints at scattered strokes just like the planting of rice seedlings.

The poem presents a strong juxtaposition between seedlings and sketching, both the images lend an exceptional visual quality to it. There is also an implied juxtaposition of randomness and intention in both art and farming.

Join us next week for our next prompt…

Bios:

Guest Editor Arvinder Kaur, author, translator and an award-winning poet, specializes in English literature and Media Studies. She was one of the founding editors of the bilingual haiku journal Wah. She has been a guest editor at Triveni, Failed Haiku and recently at The Haiku Foundation’s Haiku Dialogue. Her haiku have appeared in several national and international journals. She is the author of four books of micropoetry, two of which are bilingual where she has translated her own work into vernacular. Her books have been very well received in India and abroad. She lives in Chandigarh, India with her family.

Assistant Editor Lafcadio, a former teacher, now works from home writing, editing and proofreading study guides for nursing textbooks. She lives in Tennessee. She has written poetry for a long time but a couple of years ago fell in love with Japanese micropoetry and hasn’t looked back. Lafcadio has been published in a number of journals and anthologies. She writes under the nom de plume of Lafcadio because nom de plume is so fun to say. You can read her poems on Twitter (X) @lafcadiopoetry or BlueSky @lafcadiobsky.

Assistant Editor Vandana Parashar is an associate editor of haikuKATHA and one of the editors of Poetry Pea and #FemkuMag. Her debut e-chapbook, I Am, was published by Title IX Press (now Moth Orchid Press) in 2019 and her second chapbook Alone, I Am Not, was published by Velvet Dusk Publishing in April 2022.

Lori Zajkowski is the Post Manager for Haiku Dialogue. She lives in New York City and enjoys reading and writing haiku.

Managing Editor Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She served as Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada for ten years, and her debut poetry collection is contractions (Red Moon Press, 2019). Find her at: kjmunro1560.wordpress.com.

Portrait by Laurel Parry

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Photo Credits:

Banner photo credit:  Pratham S.S. Jolly & Ravi Singh (Canada)
Prompt photo credit:  prompt photo one:  Pratham S.S. Jolly

Haiku Dialogue offers a triweekly prompt for practicing your haiku. Posts appear each Wednesday with a prompt or a selection of poems from a previous week.