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Symmetry

Breaking Symmetry in Haiku

Symmetry is often the measure of beauty, of a human being’s physical appearance, of a painting, a mathematical equation, the elegance of the Standard Model of Particle Physics, and of a sculpture. A beautiful woman, a handsome man, both typically possess extraordinary symmetry of facial and bodily characteristics, supplemented by evolution’s quest for finely gauged proportions. I espouse the 5-7-5 syllable haiku in part because it provides perfect symmetry. Graphed on an XY axis, the values would describe an isosceles triangle. Symmetry is a desirable function of nature.

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Without breaking symmetry (asymmetry) the Universe would not exist: at the instant of the Big Bang, exactly one billion and one particles of matter were unleashed compared to one billion particles of matter. The two cancel each other out. But we are more concerned with asymmetry as it relates to beauty and haiku. Mountain ranges, rivers, and forests would hold little appeal if they were symmetrical. In the most attractive of human beings, there is frequently one anomaly, breaking the symmetry, that makes them desirable. Painting masterpieces showcase asymmetry. Maybe haiku with an x-y-z syllabic layout also create transcendent beauty. Form over inspiration can be boring.

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I still believe a true haiku is 5-7-5, but maybe I am beginning to understand why so many others do not allow form to constrain creativity.

Monarch butterfly,

Strayed from its migration route:

Wings slowly open.

The five dock pilings,

Each with its own pelican:

A wave ripples past.

Kevin Mclaughlin

John L. Gronbeck-Tedesco’s poetry, translations and plays have appeared in an impressive array of publications and theatres.

wet cobblestone streets

old as time gray as weather

near a green cypress

damp poppies ignite

blood red lathered in dew light

May—so suddenly

statue of Jesus

frozen eyes stare still waiting

in alabaster

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(Magnificent how the statue of Jesus radiates throughout the poem.)

chrysanthemums shine

red-bronze on the golden grass

in the autumn moon

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John L. Gronbeck-Tedesco

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Angie Davidson’s religion is tranquility. These two pieces display her multi-talented vision. The first describes the feeling of being in a Tibetan Shrine room on the night of a full moon.

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Saga Dawa chants,

High energy vibrates shrine—

Sweet smell of flowers,

Town clock strikes midnight,

Thick fog rolls out through the moors—

Banshee sings lament.

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(Banshees, symbolic or real, are known by many of us.)

Angie Davidson

April Pitts is a Detroit writer, professor, and singer who has been published in many journals. Miss Pitts, while remaining in the natural world, has a keen eye for the shades and the possibilities of other realms.

A place for birds and ghosts—

Edsel Street when the streetlights

stop working at night.

At dusk, the graveyard

swallows the newly dead whole.

Blame broken streetlights.

(That second line could enrich any style of poetry)

Spring daffodils—

Still growing in the courtyard

even after Gran’s death.

April Pitts