In April this year, the World Parkinson Congress held a haiku competition, in part to rev people up for next year’s Congress in Kyoto, Japan. Traditional haiku, as it’s known in Western countries, consists of seventeen syllables, arranged on three lines:
five syllables
seven syllables
five syllables
Traditional haiku also make some kind of reference to nature or the seasons, and often juxtapose two images from nature, or an image from nature and a personal response. Certain tropes appear again and again: the moon, water, dragonflies, cherry blossoms, rain.
I entered thirteen haiku in the WPC contest…but I was left feeling like I was holding an almost-empty beer bottle (Sapporo beer, of course!) with just a swig left inside. I wanted more. I wanted to fill myself up. So I wrote more than 150 haiku over the past two weeks, and present 100 of them here. I enjoyed myself thoroughly in the process, and, as when I do other kinds of writing, I found myself waking up in the middle of the night as my mind composed yet another poem, my fingers twitching out 5 – 7 – 5 beats. I kept a pen by my bedside and lots of junk mail envelopes that were blank on the back; they served as temporary scratch pads for my emerging poems until I was at my computer again.
These are not presented in any particular order. And I want to again thank the WPC for inspiring me.
1
Limping leg, trembling
Arm, poker face – Cure all things
Parkinsonian.
2
Bladder urgency?
Five-alarm emergency!
Find a rest room….Ahhhhhh…..
3
In the autumn wind,
The leaves tremble, shake and fall.
Sometimes I do, too.
4
You wake up at night,
Pillow a damp, drool-drenched swamp.
What – no croaking frogs?
5
Poker-faced like me,
The pond’s turtle, from its rock,
Stares my way. Then blinks.
6
Co-workers shuffle,
Fall on the icy sidewalk.
They must have PD.
7
Your soft voice can’t rise
Above the hurricane’s howls.
Yet both speak volumes.
8
Sitting on my porch,
I munch on crisp green peppers,
Drooling emeralds.
9
All my pill bottles,
Standing tall on my bureau:
Factory smokestacks
10
Who is number one
In affection, smarts, and fun?
Parky the Raccoon!
11
Left hand uses mouse.
Left hand types at the keyboard.
Right hand went kaput.
12
Who said I would die
Not of PD but with it?
Let it die sans moi
13
What is wrong with me?
I wake up nightly at three,
But don’t need to pee!
14
Say it long or short:
I’m constantly patient. Or,
I’ve constipation.
15
New York, New York
I’d like to wake up
In a city where I have
Slept eight solid hours.
16
Falling from the chair
While at my desk makes it hard
To answer the phone.
17
In freezing winter,
Many folks tremble and shake:
Seasonal PD.
18
Spring comes. Roses bloom.
I write another haiku,
Just because I can.
19
Black ants swarm over
An April rainstorm’s mud patch:
My poop with flax seeds.
20
Cool spring morning. I
Shiver from the cold, in sync
With my trembling hand.
21
Thanksgiving pies bake.
People sniff the air and smile.
I can’t smell a thing.
22
3 a.m.: Can’t sleep.
3 p.m.: I’m so drowsy
I could nap standing.
23
My mouth is so dry.
I start to say a sentence,
And my tongue gets stuck.
24
Where’s the PD cure?
In my life I think only
The seasons will change.
25
I sit and stare at
An empty computer screen.
No haiku today!
26
A sunny beach day.
Toes squirm with joy in warm sand…
Too bad they won’t stop.
27
A great blue heron
Stands steady on just one leg
And preens. Lucky duck!
28
My clock’s pendulum
Swings back and forth each second.
Not my arm in years.
29
I wrote a haiku –
In pen, and in my notebook.
I can’t read it now.
30
An alligator
Wrestles a python. Or it’s
Me, in bed, asleep.
31
I added a chair
To my bedroom, so I can
Sit when I get dressed.
32
When I sleep, my hand
Clutches a balled-up T-shirt
Like a hawk’s talon.
33
Band plays music. Foot
Taps along. Band stops playing.
Foot keeps on tapping.
34
The sky is gray milk.
I could compose a haiku.
But apathy…
35
Rrrrrrring! Hit snooze button.
Rrrrrrring! Hit snooze button again.
Rrrrrrring! Hit snooze button.
36
Our marital bed
Now has a second wet spot:
My drool-soaked pillow.
37
Why me? I was fine,
Then crashed with the PD truck.
I don’t understand.
38
Summer hail pelts my
Bare skin; a nice change to have
External turmoil.
39
Button a shirt? Stand
On a rocking chair, squeeze a
Lemon seed through gauze.
40
A moth fluttering
Its wings makes more noise than me
When my voice goes soft.
41
Relief! My doctor
Examines me, mutters to
Herself, “Wow – no change.”
42
The Leaning Tower
Of Pisa must have PD,
With that stooped posture.
43
“Resting tremor” is
No oxymoron. Dragons’
Tails twitch when they sleep.
44
Do these haiku slow
My cognitive impairment?
Let’s all write some more….
45
Can you squeeze “carbi-
Dopa/levodopa” in
A haiku? I can!
46
I hope that some day
A cure for PD will come.
And in my lifetime.
47
My insomnia
I view as payback for all
My moral failings.
48
What keeps me awake?
A cricket. A rumbling truck.
The squeaky moonlight.
49
I down my pills and,
Walking up the steep mountain,
I don’t limp at all.
50
My backpack and cap
Chat with each other as I
Swallow some more meds.
51
Friendly poppies nod
Their heads “yes” as I traipse by –
Today’s a good day.
52
Does the Moon not feel
Dizzy as it twirls ‘round Earth?
I do, just standing.
53
Rubber bathtub mats
Still get slippery if you
Spill shampoo on them.
54
A poppy’s petals
Gently fall to the soft earth.
Not me – I crash land.
55
What makes me happy?
Fill the sink with warm water,
Let me wash my feet.
56
The river waters
Shatter the moon’s reflection.
PD shattered me.
57
Two things are constant –
My body: loose at the seams;
Wednesday: trash pick-up.
58
After I work out,
A full moon shines overhead,
So I write on it.
59
My body’s become
Darwin’s tangle bank: Complex
Struggles run amok.
60
July 4th cook-out!
I can’t smell the barbecue.
I can’t cut my steak.
61
Having PD means
One-person games of freeze tag,
And I’m always “it.”
62
It’s ridiculous –
My hand shakes so much that I
Can’t trim my nose hair.
63
Simultaneous
Opposites: The urge to pee,
But nothing comes out.
64
Handsome researcher:
“Has your libido changed?” Hmmmm…
He’s alluring. “No.”
65
After two hours at
The gym, I leave, breathe deeply,
And exhale the moon.
66
After a short rain,
Night falls, but I see sunsets
Mirrored in puddles.
67
Cool air flows o’er me
When I open the fridge door –
Is this like a morgue?
68
Let me take a nap.
Please, just let me lie down. Please.
Thank you. Oh, thank you.
69
Swam across Hudson
River. Whoa! My eyelashes
Sparkle in the sun!
70
The pear blossoms fall
On pebbly asphalt. My limp
Foot scrapes crackerjack.
71
As I make breakfast,
My mind loitering elsewhere,
Cabinets don’t close.
72
The silent flowers
Were the very first to have
Parkinson’s soft voice.
73
I slept late again.
Here are my boots, tongues open,
Set to lick my shins.
74
“Festinating gait” –
Is that the same as “Shuffle
Off to Buffalo”?
75
They say the end stage
Of PD is horrific.
I don’t want to know.
76
A bat flits around
The street light, eating bugs. My
Mind flits around, too.
77
The dew on the grass
That I slipped on this morning
Was merely water.
78
The hot wrathful breeze
Before the storm, fills the sky
With the pine trees’ moans.
79
Summer’s sultry heat,
Sneaky like a thief, robbed me
Of my sleep last night.
80
I see lightning flash
And flash again – it’s just like
Leg cramps at midnight.
81
Heavy summer rains
Gush down the gutter downspouts:
My life’s rushing by.
82
Drinking frosty beer
In summer’s heat, I’m still part
Of humanity.
83
The clouds scurry by
In the river’s reflection:
Which way do I go?
84
Polar opposites:
Dragonflies’ nimble darting;
My quivering hand.
85
Winter sleet batters
My windshield. Now I hobble
Through cold mounds of slush.
86
Bumble bees. Snowflakes.
Pine forests. Plums. Honking geese.
Ahhh…the twitch of life.
87
Rattlesnake plantains:
Just one way that Nature bluffs.
PD is no bluff.
88
The voice from a cloud
Of gnats gently informs me
My life’s not over.
89
The orange poppy
Winks its purple eye at me,
Says, “It’s a joke, bud.”
90
The morning glories
Are my friends, since I get up
The same time they do.
91
The willow tree sways
In the wind. Was I ever
Flexible as that?
92
Maple leaves turn red
Before they fall to the earth.
I’m the opposite.
93
The stars on the pond.
Gentle snowflakes in winter.
My burdens: greater.
94
Raindrops patter on
My umbrella. I twirl it:
Sparkle festival.
95
I need to sit down.
Raindrops dotting the park bench
Kiss my tired buttocks.
96
The moth’s symmetric
Wings show me how off-kilter
My current life is.
97
I feel fine, just great.
It’s the languid yellow moon that’s
Sinking in the sea.
98
I’m still doing well.
I’m still walking miles and miles.
Later for you, bone house.
99
Arctic winds wailing
Through the frozen pine forest
Are older than God.
100
The plum’s cool nectar
Turns my chin slick and shiny –
So juicy, so sweet.
A note from the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the Japanese screen at the top of this page:
Artist: Shibata Zeshin (Japanese, 1807–1891)
Period: Meiji period (1868–1912)
Date: second half of the 19th century
Culture: Japan
Medium: Two-panel folding screen; ink, lacquer, silver, and silver leaf on paper
In Japan, gazing at the moon and listening to the sounds of insects have long been tranquil ways to spend an autumn evening. Seen from a low vantage point, the full moon illuminates the unseen world in a tangle of autumn grasses, where various types of crickets are highlighted with shiny lacquer pigment. The silver background further enriches the dreamlike atmosphere. This small screen is of a type used at tea gatherings.
You are so creative and talented in creating these Haiku!! Thanks for sharing 🙂
My heart breaks. PD may shatter your body. Your spirit soars.
I just discovered your blog, and as an 82 year old woman who has PD, I laughed my head off when I read your haiku(s). Really, I did! You have such courage. So I decided to write one for you. “I laughed ’till I cried––reading your funny haiku.—You’re nuts. I am, too.” Thank you for lifting my spirit. BTW, my maiden name is Ballard.
I just discovered your blog, and as an 82 year old woman who has PD, I laughed my head off when I read your haiku(s). Really, I did! You have such courage. So I decided to write one for you. “I laughed ’till I cried––reading your funny haiku.—You’re nuts. I am, too.” Thank you for lifting my spirit.
Hi Bruce –
Can we use one (or two) of your (brilliant) Haiku’s in our social media on Wednesday (which is Random Acts of Poetry Day!)? I was going to post some other poetry examples in our instagram stories, and ran across this when searching.
Kirsten R, APDA Northwest Chapter