Haiku: The Sixth Love Language - Write One and See
I never could figure out why we had to learn about haikus, sonnets, or iambic pentameter. Michael, if your haiku has one too many syllables, it is no longer a haiku. It-Be-Comes-Gar-Bage is, in fact, five syllables. So, technically speaking, a haiku that demolishes my non-17-syllable haiku could have been created. Later in life, I figured that the haiku was developed to teach kids the concept of a syllable. And the Lord knows, if one does not know what a syllable is, that individual could never become an astronaut, doctor, lawyer, clinical researcher, or even a superintendent of schools.
Technically though, we all could use a little haiku in our lives. Because this poetic form offers us a unique avenue to explore language, emotion, and our experiences with simplicity and depth. If I asked you to tell me about the best or worst time of your life in a 5 – 7 – 5 format, you’d have to do some thinking, wouldn’t you? Niagara Falls has five syllables. That’s five syllables and now I gotta say the rest of my piece in two lines, 12 syllables, and they gotta make sense. To do this, we might have to reject the concept that haikus can only be about nature.
The haiku may be our last literary opportunity to compete with TikTok, Facebook, pop-up ads, Snapchat, and all the shiny things that have people jumping. Even if I am not Leaping Lanny Poffo, can I get you to either read to me or type your own 17-syllable human spirit piece? I am so afraid that thinking critically and being creative are going to be technologically swept to the wayside. Going a long time without conversations that matter is a detriment to some of us – and we’ll never be captivated by a dialogue with AI. So, if I can’t get a deep convo that matters, can I at least get three lines and 17 syllables to think about? Relationships could be built or saved on the concept of a haiku - clinicians, please take note.
In the cray-cray environment of the digital age, where the shortness of communication is often prized above depth, teaching the little ones to create haikus can be a powerful counterweight. This practice encourages them to think critically about word choice and the economy of language, skills that are increasingly valuable not only in personal expression but also in professional settings where clarity and conciseness are paramount. The haiku's emphasis on observation and capturing moments ties directly into the development of mindfulness and attention, crucial for mental well-being in our distraction-filled lives.
I don’t know much about Japan, and I’d love it if someone from Japan could tell me that the haiku thing is still a thing. Because if so this exposure broadens students' horizons, encouraging them to explore and appreciate human expression across different societies. It underscores the idea that despite our backgrounds, human experience—with its emotions and observations—remains a common thread that connects us all. If students from Japan aren’t really doing haikus, then this is all pretty silly, and some textbook company is loving it.
Ultimately, the study of haikus can catalyze the nurturing of a more reflective, creative, and culturally aware generation in a short enough time to blank out social media. By valuing the lessons set within this poetic form, teachers can equip students with the tools they need to thrive in a complex world. Haikus can remind us of the power of simplicity, the depth of brief encounters, and the universal need to express and connect. In a society where the noise of information overload can drown out individual voices, teaching students the art of the haiku is a small but significant step toward ensuring that the beauty of human thought and expression finds its place.