Poems in my Head (Raquel)
I sat on the Ben-Ezra’s couch with tea on my lap and blankets tossed in a pile beside me as I read haiku. I tried to read slowly, but my desire to savor and reflect was nearly overpowered by my wish to go on and find the beauty in the next haiku. I put the book down. Better to pause and read later than to spoil them by reading too fast.
Peach fuzz,
warm from the sun–
juice trickling down my chin
There’s something missing. I’m trying too soon, before I really understand how haiku is put together. But the rhythm’s in my head and that’s the only way I have a hope of writing haiku well. As when I try to write a poem and words won’t flow until I set it to a tune in my head. Then the words I’m fumbling with and the notes I could never hope to hit mix together to make a poem with just a glimmer of the heights I aimed at. I wonder why that works and start to think that just maybe someday I’ll get it right.