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Writer's pictureShalini Pattabiraman

THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 17th October 2024. Billie Dee, featured poet

hosts: Shalini Pattabiraman & Vidya Shankar

A Thursday Feature

17th October 2024


This month we have the pleasure of celebrating the work of Billie Dee. 


Billie Dee is the former Poet Laureate of the U.S. National Library Service. A retired health care worker, she earned her doctorate at U.C. Irvine, completed post-graduate training at U.C. San Diego. Although she writes in a variety of genres, her primary focus is Japaniform poetry. A native Californian, she now lives in the Chihuahuan Desert with her family and a betta fish named Ramon. Billie publishes both online and off.


You can access Billie’s blog in the link attached below. 


Billie Dee

Proper Living


Grandpa won’t oil the squeaky windmill, says he likes it that way—tells him

where he’s at in a dust storm. A man of strict habits, he’s extra gentle

with horses and kids.

 

double yolked egg

the rooster-spur scar

on Mama's shin

 

Up before dawn, he shaves without a mirror, chooses a blue plaid shirt

with mother-of-pearl snaps at the cuff, which he keeps neatly tucked

into dark trousers. He won’t wear jeans like Daddy, “cause no gentleman

rides out looking like that.” Come sunset he smells like a hot branding iron.

 

shelling peas

into the enameled pan

plink-plink-plink 

 

After dressing the tack with neatsfoot oil and brushing his Stetson, Grandpa

strips to the waist in the cow shed. A red-handled pump squeals till primed,

then gushes into the wash trough. Fresh-laundered coveralls keep the man tidy

while he milks the three golden guernseys.

 

sink high

a line of damp

marks Granny's apron

 

Source: Contemporary Haibun Online, 19:3, Dec 2023

 

SP: How do you view the relationship between title, prose and haiku?


BD: I see each element as part of a three-legged stool. Careful attention to each is necessary to balance a well-written haibun. Traditionally, the prose—whether narrative, lyrical, speculative, or otherwise—should be concise and clearly written. Likewise, the title and haikai ought to be fresh and inviting. Ideally, all three are disjunctive but clearly (or intuitively) linked.


SP: Do you believe haibun has any specific boundaries that one must follow?


BD: Yes. Each element of the poem (title, narrative, and verse) should be balanced and engaging. To honor the tradition of classical haibun writing, the prose is usually concise, even compressed. On the other hand, some of my favorite poets use inventive ruminations, run-on diction, even wildly divergent passages. The key point is to stimulate reader anticipation and (most importantly) imaginative participation.


I also think the haikai should be able to stand alone as an independent poem. I realize, not everyone agrees with this—but for me as a writer and editor, it’s a core requirement.



Prompt: 


On your page, list a name, a place, an animal and a thing. Now write a haiku/haibun using this list but set it in your grandparents time. Create another list and write a different haiku/haibun and set it in an imagined future. Next connect these two pieces together to make one. You might need some tinkering but try not to change heavily. 


PLEASE NOTE:

1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt.

2. Share your best-polished pieces.

3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written.

    Let it simmer for a while.

4. Post your final edited version on top of your original verse.

5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.


We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in haikuKATHA monthly journal.


Important: Since we're swamped with submissions, and our editors are only human, mistakes can happen. Please, please, remember to put your name, followed by your country, below each poem, even after revisions. It helps our editors; they won't have to type it in, saving them from potential typos. Thanks a ton!


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#2 From Past to Pixels


jack-o'-lantern

ancestors and children

share the night


The neighborhood awakens, a gallery of carved grins inviting spirits to linger. Witches and ghouls hang from doorways, hollow eyes following trick-or-treaters as laughter mingles with fright. Children appear as pirates with eye patches, fairies with sparkling wings, superheroes in capes, zombies in tattered clothes, roaring dinosaurs, and astronauts ready to explore the stars. Their laughter fills the night, turning the streets into a magical place. Doorbells ring out in a cheerful chorus of "trick or treat," echoing the festive call. 


harvest moon

a scarecrow's shadow

bows to the wind


Back home, such openness to spirits was unthinkable. Superstition wove its way into hushed conversations. We drove unwelcome entities…


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Contestando a

thank you, Joanna

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Edited (Thanks to invaluable guidance by Vidya and Kala) :


everything makes sense in hindsight


as his hand slips

on my waist

another fish

takes the bait


Vandana Parashar


Original:


everything makes sense in hindsight


his hand on my waist

another fish takes

the bait


Vandana Parashar


P.S. I don't write much Haibun and have never written a gembun. This is my first attempt. Any feedback is most welcome. 🙏

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What I wanted to convey was that sometimes in our emotional state, we tend to overlook red flags. When viewed in hindsight, be being detached, we get a new perspective.

What the poet saw at that time as a display of affection ( hand on the waist), was actually an act of deception which had been played many times before (another fish takes the bait).

If this doesn't work, I’ll change the ku.

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Revised. Thanks, Lorraine.

gembun:


village granaries bursting with gunny sacks of rice


her baby's first cry

                       unlocks

           the milk flow


Kala Ramesh


<> <>


Original:


the village granaries bursting with gunny sacks of collected rice grains


her baby's first cry

unlocks

the milk flow

labour room


Kala Ramesh #1

Feedback most welcome.

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mona bedi
mona bedi
24 oct
Contestando a

Beautiful… the revised version works well

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mona bedi
mona bedi
22 oct

Post #2

22.10.24


and so on…


1961, Hyderabad

Just born


the baby’s eyes same as grandpa pink moon


Naina is their second born. The parents lovingly look at their bundle of joy. She grows up to be a chubby , fair and pretty girl. Her hair is streaked with gold and the cheeks are ruddy. With her infectious laughter she is a favourite of all.


first rose buds

mother’s kitchen

full of sunshine


2040, Delhi

Eighty years old


Looking out of her bedroom door she admires the flowers in her garden. Butterflies of all colours flit from zinnias to petunias. Naina shuts her eyes for a few seconds. Yes, she has seen it all, losing her father and husband at…


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mona bedi
mona bedi
24 oct
Contestando a

Thanks 🙏

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#1 Golden Lineage


One thread  

Two hands  

Four seasons  

Eight festivals  

Sixteen years of weaving  

Thirty-two flowers blooming  

Sixty-four stories told  

One hundred twenty-eight dreams stitched  

Two hundred fifty-six moments captured  

Five hundred twelve heartbeats echoed  

One thousand twenty-four ancestors remembered  

Two thousand forty-eight stitches connecting past to future  


heirloom sky . . .

moonlight threads

forgotten dreams


I lift the old trunk and the red phulkari spills its colors. Grandmother wove, mother continued, and now I preserve this legacy. Soon, my daughter's hands will grasp it too.


time unravels . . .

a tortoise ambles

from ancient roots Sandip Chauhan, USA feedback welcome


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Shalini, thank you!

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