I generally quite like haiku, but I don’t think Arthurian legend is really the sort of material that works well in such a distilled form. Much of the flavor depends on a wealth of detail which haiku can’t really deliver. I can’t say I have the slightest idea what the last two are about. That’s hardly surprising given my small acquaintance with the legends, but my sister–a real enthusiast–can’t make them out either, so, while I wouldn’t go so far as to label you an obscurist, I’d certainly say these poems are obscure.

A small note: tea was not introduced in England until long, long after Malory, let alone Arthur. It could, I suppose, be some herbal tea, but the word itself wasn’t introduced into English until the seventeenth century. Perhaps broth would be more appropriate?

Philip – I like how Peter Leithart summarizes it. “At its best, haiku glances at the familiar from an awkward angle; it presents what we normally approach straight-on from the side or underneath or inside out and helps us to see it, in a flash, as something wholly new.” I think probably the challenge of the present task would be the fact that Arthurian legend isn’t really “familiar”. I guess I’m just being counter-cultural or something.

Lizzy – I was thinking of the two separate stories in the second one – first, at the climax of the Percival story that Chretien gives, when the Fisher-King’s (his father’s) castle disappears, and, second, the earlier story of Percival tying willows about him in an attempt to be a knight with shining armor (needless to say, he’s laughed at). The third is about Tristan, Isoulde, and the love potion. Perhaps these stories are obscure and just randomly picked ones from my spotty Arthurian upbringing. But they’re somewhere there in Pyle. Hopefully that makes it make more sense. As for tea, I’m not entirely unaware of the history which you mentioned – the anachronism is meant to be humorous.

Lucie – I’m not entirely sure I understand. True haiku have to be related to the seasons?

Oh… *winces* I figured you actually did know.

Ok, “true” haiku, in addition to being 3 line poems composed of 17 syllables (with a 5-7-5 syllable count for the lines), have some reference to nature and to a season.

One haiku in the World Lit book that SO uses (by Kobayashi Issa, translated by Harold G. Henderson)

“A morning-glory vine
all blossoming, has thatched
this hut of mine.”

Morning-glory is a plant, and thus a reference to nature, “blossoming” means that it’s referring to springtime.
Dr McM talked a bit about how haikus without reference to anything in nature and a specific season aren’t generally considered true haiku in Japan. (In fact, ones that only follow the syllable count are called senryu, but those are generally comic in nature…)

Sorry, I really thought you knew that. ^_^

Two different college applications required me to write haiku. I like them.

Lucie – I can’t say I remember that from the WLit days. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t really trying to create what would be considered in Japan a true haiku. There are not a few “haiku” I can think of that have nothing to do with the seasons.

DMJ – Everything about you is ambiguous. But if I can guess and if you’re saying you like mine, then, coming from you, that’s quite a compliment. Thank you.

Erin, just make a cryptic post that vaguely compliments John (under a false name, of course) and he might deign to reply. Maybe.

I don’t like haiku.
Give me alliterative
poems anytime.

Anyway: Franko-Celtic stories in Japanese poetic form doesn’t really work, I think; it’s very incongruous, not to mention that they just don’t go together.

I hate to be the author arguing that his work has a level deeper than its critics seem to be on to, but, oh well. :-) Apart from the objection that they’re obscure – I grant, they are – the primary two objections here seem to be that (a) haiku, especially mine, don’t communicate anything and (b) the haiku is Japanese and is incongruous with Arthurian legend.

First, a word on haiku. I think the three important things about haiku are image, subversion, and concision. Concision is a result of the form, which Lucie seems to imply doesn’t buy you anything. I’d disagree – concision is the challenge. The haiku isn’t about how little you can convey but how much you can convey. James seems to see a lack on the image/subversion end of things. I could be wrong. But I think what’s important in a haiku is that the image constructs an expectation that is radically changed or destroyed in the process. Part of that expectation is simply the result of understanding, in this case, the Arthurian milieu, and that is probably where these poems failed to be compelling for most of you.

Second, people don’t seem to like that I combined a Japanese form with British content. I’d go along this line – the haiku was a cultural construction of Japan, but at this point need not be. I don’t think “being Japanese” is one of those three criteria that I (or many more able poets) set for themselves when writing a haiku. Again, the purpose is to convey much in little through an image – the task of doing that with Arthurian legend is, granted, a challenging one, but not, I’d argue, an impossible or incongruous one. And, as we’ve discussed, it didn’t seem to work so well in this case, not because of anything deficient in the haiku, but because I had to resort to being somewhat abstruse.

John — the last haiku isn’t about Tristan and Isolde, is it?

No, no, I didn’t. Fantastic. You really caught the spirit of that story — with the tea, and the dress.