Thursday, 29 December 2011

Montaigne in Arabia

Reading the life of Montaigne;
From the balcony rises
A woman's bedouin song

December 29, 2011

Saturday, 10 September 2011

tomatina (in reverse)

Rivers of blood flowing,
In meandres on the elegant pavement,
Tomato juice in Buñol

The Bonfire

On the surface of the black water,
The reflection of a bonfire,
Slowly sinking into the abyss.

Monday, 27 June 2011


Tomatina in Buñol,
Tomato juice flows in the streets
Like rivers of blood

Tuesday, 21 June 2011


Cutting the onion root,
White juice emerges
From inside out  


Thursday, 2 June 2011


The heavy day;
Eyelids are closing slowly
Along with the laptop 


Sunday, 15 May 2011

The Wave

A gentle wave
Is moving like wind
Across shades of blue sea


Friday, 8 April 2011

The Bee

The bee,
Trying to reach the center of the flower,
Slips down repeatedly 


Saturday, 26 March 2011


The steering wheels;
An overloaded white truck
Is sailing on the road


Thursday, 17 March 2011

A blissful match

Toes dug in the sand;
Water brushing my feet
A blissful match, yet unnoticed

Wednesday, 16 March 2011


The long row of trees;
Splashing lemons
Are dissolving on the ground


Saturday, 5 March 2011

Global Warming

Standing on the top of the slope
Wind blowing in my ears
Glazing at the snowless hills

Late (edited version)

Rain pouring down;
battling against the seconds
the student runs to class

Monday, 28 February 2011


A thundering sound;
On the shutters
The hurried splatter of heavy drops


Monday, 21 February 2011

Enid Blyton

On the rooftop
Clear rainwater covers a torn page:
"Histoires de la lune bleue"

February 21, 2011

Friday, 11 February 2011


In the gutter,
Past the tiny waterfall,
Sun-rays are interweaving


Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Roland Barthes on the Cucumber

I was reading Roland Barthes' L'Empire des Signes in Roland Barthes, Oeuvres Completes (vol. 3, 1968-1971), when I came across this (original in French; the translation below, slightly edited, comes from the Internet):

At the Floating Market in Bangkok, each vendor sits in a tiny motionless canoe, selling minute quantities of food: seeds, a few eggs, bananas, coconuts, mangoes, pimentos...From himself to his merchandise, including his vessel, everything is small. Occidental food, heaped up, dignified, swollen to the majestic, linked to a certain operation of prestige, always tends toward the heavy, the grand, the abundant, the copious; the Oriental follows the converse movement, and tends toward the infinitesimal: the cucumber’s future is not its accumulation or its thickening, but its division, its tenuous dispersal, as this haiku puts it:

Cut cucumber;
Its juice runs
Drawing spider legs
(p. 362)

Quite interesting, as it sums up the whole ethos of haiku, its size, its suggestive power, and its contrast to Occidental, Western poetry and hence its contrasting outlook at life.

Tuesday, 8 February 2011


Putting some make up,
The rays met the skin
True Happiness!

Monday, 7 February 2011


Vast alcohol
entering the bloodstreams;
Awaiting the hangover

Thanks Paul for the invite!!


Rain pouring down
Battling against the seconds
The student runs

Friday, 4 February 2011


After the heavy rains,
The tree leaves
Are thirsting for more 


Tuesday, 25 January 2011


People partying
While cannons echo everywhere
The paradox of Lebanon

To whom the bell tolls

The clock ticking;
A simple sound
Reminds us of our mortality

Friday, 21 January 2011

Ad infinitum

Ephemeral reflections on a raindrop
Are ad infinitum worlds
And eternal universes


Stranger's handshake;
In the shine of his smile
Smiles hypocrisy


hello everyone,
as you can see i'm new here and very excited to be part of this blog.
I'd really appreciate any help in writing or understanding Haiku as ill try and be of assistance when needed.

Thank you

Thursday, 20 January 2011

The Haiku Handbook 5

On the relationship between the haiku and its object, Higgins writes (in The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku), in the context of Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), probably the most famous of all haiku poets:

One of Basho's disciples explains that to be genuine a poem must contain the spontaneous feeling that comes from the object itself. In effect, the poet's first job is to share in the essential nature of the thing written about. Basho's disciple goes on to say that just as a mere "look at" an object is not enough to produce the deep seeing that begins inspiration, so the writing of a mere description cannot capture the essence of an object the writer's mind has penetrated. Basho says, "In writing do not let a hair's breadth separate your self from the subject. Speak your mind directly; go to it without wandering thoughts. (10)

The directness, which is such an obvious (and sometimes such a surprising) feature of haiku, is explained by Higgins:

Having shared in the life of an object, the writer must share this life with others through the medium of words. But these words must connect directly to the writer's mind, that is in turn directly connected to the object. This, the expressive stage, logically comes after the perceptual stage. But, as Basho clearly says, the two stages ideally occur as one. In the final poem, both the language of the poem and the mind of the poet should be transparent to the reader, who, on reading the poem, should see directly into the inner life of the object as the poet did. This is the ideal of Basho-School haiku, an ideal almost all haiku poets since have striven to attain. (10)

In other words, identification, directness, and transparency; a movement from perception to expression, and from the event to the writer and, ultimately, to the reader.