Don Baird

My career is one of Martial Arts -- Kung Fu. It has been a 54 year physical and philosophical journey as both student and teacher. Amidst the many philosophies I've pondered over the years, is the following (regarding the use of technique):

correct (technique)
simple (technique)
direct (technique)
appropriate (technique)

This has been the core of my self-defense and of my life.  It also has been and remains today a defining force behind my writing haiku/hokku.

As time has passed I have become someone who redacts everything -- to the fewest actions or words possible. I'm one who could write a book of 75,000 words and then quickly reduce it to 50!

I've attempted other styles of poetry. But, it is brevity and the power within brevity that continues to attract me to haiku — not the kind of brevity where I would use one word, necessarily; rather, the kind that employs a few common words of which lead the reader into a stream of thoughts and associations:

Nagasaki;
in her belly, the sound
of unopened mail

HaikuNow 1st Place, 2013; Touchstone Award 2013

I imagine I could write a small book or a very long haibun utilizing this haiku, but then again, why not invite the reader do some work? I used nine words to describe one of the worst events in the history of inhumanity. That's haiku; and, that's what has attracted me to it for so many years.

There is nuance and mystery,

chilled bones then the moon and not

Ink Zero, 2015; Don Baird

there is heart,

    rising tide
    the waterfall gives birth     
    to a hummingbird          

Ink Zero, 2015; Don Baird

and hurt,

    something of a scar
    of ocean left
    rolling cigarettes          

Ink Zero, 2015; Richard Gilbert

I enjoy twists and turns -- the surprises that haiku often bring. I explore imagination and wonder what haiku would be without it. Is haiku a statement of facts? Is it a story? Is it limited to the words within the poem? Or is it something that lunges  toward the deepest woods of the reader's mind?

    between pages memories pressed

    Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

    hanging mirror the shape of my thoughts

Ink Zero, 2015; Don Baird

The body has limitations and boundaries. The Spirit is infinitely free.

    whispering
    the butterfly's unusual
    path                            

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

Imagination and connection to the Creator,

    filling in
    the distance between stars    
    a cricket

As the Crow Flies, 2013; Don Baird

Pain and tragedy,

    marching
    in the field of death   
    a number

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

    curbside garbage
    the carefree attitude   
    of money

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

    a drowning man
    pulled into violet worlds
    grasping hydrangea

Ink Zero, 2015; Richard Gilbert

Occasionally, I wonder where haiku come from? "Where in the heck in my brain did that one come from?" I'm often surprised by words -- when they show up out of nowhere -- uniquely transforming what I am feeling into something concrete such as a haiku. And, I leave myself in the dark as a result:

    fading rainbow
    the thought of stars
    that never were

Haiku, the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

However, deep hurt from war, from conflict, and from strife connect with me the most:

    wrapped —
    but not held together
    her tiny hands

    tears
    in the sand
    of her eyes . . .

    rocket blast —
    souls ascend, in clouds
    of blood

    AK 47;
    the suddenness
    of it all

    white wrapped —
    the damascus steel
    of hate

    tormented —
    the brown eyes
    of someone

Haiku, the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

Haiku depicting moments such as these dig so deep in my heart that I must often take time to breathe after writing one. The pain is deep by the thought of humanity at such a low ebb; the feeling of hate in the air mixed with blood and red fog scares me. When innocence is killed, terror inflicted, and the continuum of rejection of people with differing tastes, ideals and beliefs, and where the word understanding no longer dwells, it darkens my soul.

    lost in dreams
    I've never grown up
    to play war

Haiku, the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

In the balance, there is joy and the beauty of nature and its wildness all around. I love the little things such as butterflies and ants; I admire and am astonished by the power of nature, its force, its unwavering desire to fold and unfold in its own way without my regard, without my control. It's exciting to recognize this about nature and to react to it through words -- through haiku:

    each rose the wind leaves behind  

    minuet . . .
    the things I see
    in clouds  

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

    at the end
    of a bamboo shoot
    blue whale  

Ink Zero, 2015; Don Baird

    without thought a bird anyway   

Ink Zero, 2015; Don Baird

    winter twilight;
    the elegant pause
    of a birdsong      

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird

As life goes on there will be more things to ponder. I suppose that once my pondering is over the following haiku may become relevant; and, I'm ok with that:

    — an old bear
    slowly through the marsh
    into the stars —

Haiku - the Interior and Exterior of Being, 2014; Don Baird