Dreams like a podcast,Downloading truth in my ears.They tell me cool stuff.Apollo? I guess, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad.He put his finger to his lips. I'm incognito. Call me Fred.A god named Fred?
He cleared his throat and held up one hand dramatically.“Green grass breaks through snow. Artemis pleads for my help. He grinned at us, waiting for applause. That last line was four syllables.” Artemis said. Apollo frowned. “Was it?” “No, no, that’s six syllable, hhhm.” He started muttering to himself. That’s five syllables!” He bowed, looking very pleased with himself.
Love taught me to die with dignity that I might come forth anew in splendor. Born once of flesh, then again of fire, I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name humming haikus in heaven’s mouth.
Real haiku is the soul of poetry. Anything that is not actually present in one's heart is not haiku. The moon glows, flowers bloom, insects cry, water flows. There is no place we cannot find flowers or think of the moon. This is the essence of haiku. Go beyond the restrictions of your era, forget about purpose or meaning, separate yourself from historical limitations—there you will find the essence of true art, religion, and science.
When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
He utilizesform for a striking lecture;young poets shiverinexperience,but thaw over their own work,fertilize magic.