Born in 1917, in the American heartland
of Topeka, Kansas, Elizabeth Searle Lamb has become one of the major
voices in the world of English language haiku. As an advocate for a
strong traditional basis while remaining open to experimentation, her
writing has helped define its modern development. She has won more than
150 awards in the haiku field, and her work has been translated into
Japanese, Chinese, Polish, French, and Spanish, among other languages.
What distinguishes Elizabeths haiku from those of other workers
in the genre? Beyond craft, beyond exotic scenery and subjects, a central
peacea deep resonance with life as it simply ispermeates
this work. It shows as much in poems on people and their creations,
whether functional machinery, Pre-Columbian sculptures or Picasso, as
in her poems on the most natural of plants and animals.
This book is one of the finest examples
showing the variety of ways in which American haiku has explored its
poetic potential during the last thirty years. One- and three-line haiku,
rensaku (sequential composition), renku, haibun, senryu, even tankaall
are there, each form perfectly matching the subject that inspired the
poet. Page after page the reader discovers how on various occasions
in her eventful life the author caught the essence of a moment and transformed
it into a poem with a minimum use of words .
Makoto Ueda
Since 1977, she has made her home in Santa Fe,
New Mexico. Born in 1917 in Kansas Elizabeth planned a life as
a harpist but when marrying tropical forester Bruce Lamb, which took
them to Central and South America, she turned to the typewriter for
a creative outlet. In 1961, after moving to New York City, she was writing
and publishing mainly prose when she discovered haiku. In 1963, American
Haiku, the first American haiku magazine, began to publish her haiku.
On October 23 1968, she participated at the first meeting of the Haiku
Society of America and became a charter member. Editor of Frogpond
from 1984 to 1990, and 1994, Elizabeth has written critical works, earned
numerous awards, has been widely published, translated and frequently
anthologized. She donated her extensive collection of haiku materials
to the new American Haiku Archive in California State Library in Sacramento,
CA and, in July 1996, she became the first honorary curator.
Elizabeth
Searle Lamb's Haiku
Natalie Kussart
flight of the cranes
surely just dream but
this white feather
Who is Elizabeth
Searle Lamb?
Elizabeth Searle Lamb was born in Topeka, Kansas on January 22, 1917.
She graduated from the University of Kansas with majors in Music and
Harp. In December of 1941, she married her husband, Bruce Lamb, and
lived with him in Trinidad, Spain for two years. Because Elizabeth was
only in the United States for brief periods of time through out the
next few years, she did not have a chance to pursue her music career.
Therefore, she began to write and publish different types of materials,
and this eventually led to poetry.
In 1961, Elizabeth and her husband moved to New York. This is where
she was first introduced to the art of haiku. She began to study, read,
and write about this form of poetry. She became a member of the Haiku
Society of America (HSA) in 1968. In 1971, ten years after she learned
of haiku, she became the president of the HSA. Since this time, she
has had her work published in many haiku magazines and newspapers. She
has participated in many festivals and held various offices. Lamb has
also been the editor for the HSAs quarterly, which is entitled
Frogpond.
Through this study, I have noticed she likes to write haiku about art
and also for specific people. Today, she lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico,
and she likes to call herself a Southwesterner.
How does Elizabeth Choose a Subject?
The reason I chose to write about Elizabeth Searle Lamb is because of
her approach to writing haiku. Elizabeth only writes about the "now
moments" in life. She captures the moment as it is or as a sharp
memory that has surfaced. This means that she never actually chooses
her subjects. Instead, she lets the images of the moments somehow choose
her. Elizabeth wrote a statement as the "Contributors Comment"
in Hummingbird V:3 March 1993 about her approach on haiku.
It is to capture the moment: light on a bricked up window in Greenwich
Village, faint crowing of a rooster early in the morning after a death
has come, colored sails in an Amazon harbor after rain. It is to track
down the real wetness of incomprehensible tears. It is to resurrect
a tiny prism of memory into a moment that lives with color, scent, and
sound. These are, for me, the functions of haiku, senryu, and the short
lyric. Captured in the amber of words, the moment endures.
After first reading this statement, I began wondering how certain subjects
"choose" Elizabeth. I think the moment can be trivial or it
can be immensely important. However, it must be happening now and be
vivid enough for the rest of us to see it. She mentions that haiku comes
alive with color, scent, and sound. I believe these are the three key
elements to making moments into "now moment". Once the reader
can see the different colors, smell the air around them, and/or hear
the sounds being made, it brings the haiku to life for everyone not
just the author.
I would like to share a few of Elizabeths haiku so that it is
easier to understand her method to "choosing" topics
.wind in the sagebrush
the same dusty color
the smell of it
Across the Windharp,
p. 36
I image taking a walk
in a dry desert. As I get closer to home, the wind starts to blow harder.
The sagebrush by my home is brittle and without leaves. It is yellowish-brown
just like the dust that has blown up by it. I can smell the mustiness
and dryness of the dust.
I bet Elizabeth has experienced this image many times because she lives
in New Mexico. One day, while walking or looking out her window, this
moment probably "choose" her as a subject for this haiku.
It was nothing special, but now it is an image captured in the form
of a haiku.
the toy dumpster
inches from the snowbank
spring thaw
Across the Windharp,
p. 102
For this haiku, I image
driving down a country road after the last snow. The white snow is starting
to melt and turn brownish. Green buds are beginning to sprout from the
ground and the trees, and I can smell spring in the air. As I continue
down the road, I see a house. In the ditch, a red object is sticking
out of the snow. I drive slower to get a closer look, and I realize
it is a toy dumpster that has been left behind by a child. It has been
buried all winter in the snow.
I love this haiku because it truly captures a moment. This is not something
that we see everyday, but it is also something that is not very significant.
However, she has captured the colorful and beautiful moment in this
haiku.Columbia,
returning
from space, lands precisely
on her own shadow
Across the Windharp,
p. 54
I image the space shuttle
falling through the atmosphere at an unimaginable speed. As it gets
closer to the ground, its shadow can be seen. Then all of the sudden,
the space shuttle touches the ground exactly where its shadow had been
one moment before.
This haiku is not one of my favorites. However, I decided to include
it in this essay because it is something that is a big event. The other
haiku, so far, have been examples of insignificant things that were
made beautiful through haiku. It is also possible to record "now
moments" with important events, as Elizabeth did with this haiku.
Before I give more examples of Elizabeths haiku, I would like
to mention another way she makes haiku into "now moments".
Elizabeth told me sound, rhythm, and spacing are all important when
trying to truly capture a "now" moment.
First, when defining sound, I think it could mean two different things.
It could be the repetition or similarity of the letters or syllables
in words (assonance). Or it could mean a word that resembles a sound,
such as pop, quack, or crunch. These words make us not only see a picture
but hear the sound it makes.
shiverrrring
on the winter balcony
first star
Across the Windharp,
p. 31
This haiku conveys a
lovely moment. I image standing on a balcony during the winter with
my boyfriend. I begin to shiver so he wraps his arms around me. We both
watch the sky until the first star of the night shines down on us.
Because of the way Elizabeth spelled "shiver", I can hear
myself saying "burr" as I rub my cold arms. Also, I think
the repetition of the letter "r" in the words "shiver",
"first", and "star" makes the haiku good.
Second, Elizabeth said rhythm is important. For rhythm, I think of the
way the haiku flowsthe musicality of it. Does the haiku flow easily
and nicely, or is it jerky? Some poets say that the Spanish haiku are
nicer to the ears than English haiku. However, I think Elizabeth believes
that if we find just the right words, then English haiku can also have
rhythm and musicality.
by the night light
tiny spiders tiny web
leaving it there
Across the Windharp,
p. 23
I image taking a stroll
around my house in the moon-lit night. As I am walking back inside,
I see a small spider in his little web. The lamp on the side of the
house illuminates it. Usually, I sweep the webs off with the broom,
but this time I decided to leave it.
I think this haiku is particularly nice when looking at rhythm. It has
a set of rhyming words, as well as a word that is used twice. This makes
the haiku flow nicely and beautifully. Elizabeth could have wrote, "by
the light/spiders web/leaving it there". This would have
conveyed the same meaning, but it would not have had the same rhythm.
Finally, spacing is important to Elizabeth to make a haiku a "now
moment". When reading through her haiku, I noticed she does not
over-use spacing and indention. She only uses it when it is important
to the meaning of the haiku. I think this is an important skill that
takes time to learn correctly. Elizabeth has a wonderful haiku that
uses spacing to enhance the moment of the haiku.
in the hot sun
still swinging
this empty swing
Across the Windharp,
p. 30
I image a humid, hot
summer day. A mother and her daughter walked to the park to swing. After
a while, the weather became too unbearable. The mother lifted the little
girl out of the swing and held her hand as they walked back home. Although
the mother was no longer pushing the swing, it continued moving back
and forth a few more times on its own.
If the space was left out of this haiku, it would not be nearly as good.
The space for me represents the swing going up. . . and then coming
back down. It also could represent the empty seat on the swing. I think
Elizabeth did a wonderful job capturing the "now moment" in
this haiku by using spacing.
I would like to address one last question in this essay. If Elizabeth
believes all haiku should be "now moments", can haiku ever
be fictitious? Surprisingly, she still believes it can. "Imaginary
moments [are okay] sometimes, perhaps, but even those, I feel, probably
arise from some hidden kernel of experience," Elizabeth stated.
I have learned, through studying Elizabeths work, that haiku is
not so much about what you write about, but how you write it. Any subject
can be made into a beautiful moment through haiku. I am honored to have
had Elizabeth Searle Lamb, the first woman of American haiku, as the
focus of my essay. I will close with two of her haiku that are some
of my personal favorites.
an old woman
ladles some kind of soup
into a carved gourd
Across the Windharp,
p. 79
his voice
reading his poems
still
Across the Windharp,
p. 63
©2002 Randy Brooks, Millikin University, Decatur,
Illinois || all rights reserved for original authors
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