Haiku

People have spilled a lotta figurative blood over the exact definition of haiku. I don't care about all that. What I'm gonna explain here are what I understand to be the Japanese definition, and the rough definition I use for the haiku I've written.

The shared features

Haiku are short poems that often describe a single moment in plain language typically without explicit emotion, judgement, or metaphor, and depict two separate elements that complement and contrast each other.

The traditional definition

The haiku is a Japanese 3-part, moraic form with the parts consisting of 5/7/5 morae.

Haiku also include a kireji (often translated as “cutting word”), and a seasonal reference, often a kigo (often translated as “season word”) or the less prescriptive kidai (often translated as… “seasonal reference”). Kireji are actually morae (not necessarily words) that force a pause for breath. Kigo are words or terms selected from a saijiki, a regional almanac of seasonal terms including types of weather, plants and animals (or their behaviours), names of holidays, and features of the climate (e.g. “burning” or “hot” for summer).

The form was strictly codified in the late 19th and early 20th centuries based on an earlier, freer form called hokku. In fact, the term kigo was only coined in 1908. This codification has started to slip in recent decades, and there's debate in Japan over exactly how strict the form should be. At the same time, there's growing acknowledgement that several poets historically seen as masters of the form not only broke from tradition early and often, they also encouraged others to do the same.

My definition

As far as I can tell, this is basically the loosest common definition of haiku used by English-language poets (it's “my definition” in that I use it, not that I created it).

The haiku is a 3-line form. In English, the syllable count tends to be 10–15, 17 at most (due to the varying number of morae per syllable in English). The two parts are optionally divided by punctuation (e.g. an em dash, colon, or semicolon) or a line-end sound that doesn't easily run into the start of the next line. The haiku as a whole usually contains a seasonal reference, either directly or by implication.

There are many, many ideas about how haiku can be written. I think most end up as a mix of description and narrative of a moment/tableau.

Poems

  1. 2026-06-17

    branches quiver,
    dead on the ground
    where squirrels play
  2. 2026-04-28

    a bluebell
    flapping its wings
    a butterfly
  3. 2026-04-16

    pigeons scatter
    at the shadow
    of a fellow
  4. 2026-01-25

    shadows of seafoam
    encircle the diving bird—
    vice versa its prey

    I could do better with this… though I do like the phrase “shadows of seafoam”. Also, “diving bird” was originally “cormorant”, but I wanted to make the action clearer.

  5. 2026-01-21

    through the new-moon rain,
    the lights of the last black train
    give shape to the land

    5–7–5 moraic haiku. It wasn't actually new moon, but pretty close. Alternatively, the last two lines could go “the lights of midnight trains / give shape to shadow”, but that's not the right number of morae (I also thought about ending that version “give shape to darkness”, which feels better but sounds worse).

  6. 2026-01-17

    sheeps' breath
    rising from the mist
    rising from the mud
  7. 2026-01-07

    trapped in ice
    in the birdbath,
    a paw of moss

    I happened on the phrase “a paw of moss” and used it to write this and a tetractys from the same day.

  8. 2026-01-06

    golden hour;
    the day's snowfall
    rises as mist
  9. 2026-01-06

    cresting the ridge—
    the golden hour
    lasts a minute longer
  10. 2026-01-04

    mud and ice
    swallowing up
    property line stones
  11. 2026-01-03

    dead of winter;
    frigid snowberries
    slip from the branch
  12. 2026-01-02

    on the sunken log,
    blue with pre-dawn snow,
    one robin sings
  13. 2026-01-02

    lilac
    and marigold, too;
    twilight on snow
  14. 2025-12-27

    winter solitude;
    echoing unseen,
    a firework
  15. 2025-12-27

    dusk
    meeting
    dawn frost
  16. 2025-12-24

    midday sunset;
    darkness rises
    up the valley
  17. 2025-12-24

    at the precipice
    where wind falls into town
    winter deepens
  18. 2025-12-21

    winter solstice
    neither sun nor moon
    join me outside
  19. 2025-12-17

    days with no sun;
    light or dark clouds
    fill the night sky
  20. 2025-12-09

    rain taps on the roof—
    wind snaps the umbrella
    and I am outside

    A 5/7/5 moraic haiku.

  21. 2025-12-08

    winter blossom
    the colour of the sky
    drifts in the dusk
  22. 2025-12-05

    first of December;
    the day moon shines
    brighter than the sun

    Kept this one in the pocket for a few days for some reason.

  23. 2025-12-04

    raindrops
    from a dull winter day
    shining in moonlight
  24. 2025-12-03

    wind, cold, rain—
    each preceding
    the others
  25. 2025-12-03

    moonlight
    reveals a black cat
    by his shadow
  26. 2025-12-03

    dark clouds
    hiding bright clouds
    hiding the moon

    At first I had the second and third lines as “concealing bright clouds / hiding the moon”, but I think the repetition—layers—works better here.

  27. 2025-12-03

    cold black clouds
    show their colours
    in the moonlight

    Same idea as a Kelly lune from the same day.

  28. 2025-12-01

    the lightest rain,
    invisible in darkness
    except as light
  29. 2025-11-30

    the silhouette
    of the barren oak
    shoulders stars
  30. 2025-11-30

    steadfast in the cold,
    the veteran cat stands tall
    half-inside the house

    At first I had this as “unflinching in the cold / the black cat stands tall / in the open doorway”, but I decided against it because 1) I felt like the colour of the cat matters less (even though it was my cat, who's all black) than the age/experience, 2) people can substitute whatever cat they feel like, and 3) I felt like doing a 5/7/5 moraic haiku for a change.

  31. 2025-11-30

    dusk horizon;
    colours of the day
    elsewhere

    “Dusk Horizon” is also the name of the music that plays in one of the first levels of the groundbreaking early FPS, Unreal.

  32. 2025-11-29

    red cloud-wall
    vanishing into blue sky;
    shining moon haze
  33. 2025-11-29

    before the flock
    after the storm
    a lone sparrow

    I thought about ordering this more spatially as “before the flock / a lone sparrow / after the storm”, but I think it flows better this way.

  34. 2025-11-25

    gust sweeping snow;
    white winter rose
    left behind
  35. 2025-11-24

    words slough
    from the sunken sign:
    Flood Warning
  36. 2025-11-24

    white hot breath
    swelters the frost;
    naked tarmac
  37. 2025-11-24

    lightless cloud;
    something echoes
    up the valley

    I came to this through “lightless cloud / something roaring / through the valley”, which I got to from “lightless cloud; / something roaring / overhead”.

  38. 2025-11-24

    dry and still inside,
    yet the storm
    shades each room

    More on the same theme as a Crapsey cinquain from the same day.

  39. 2025-11-23

    the lantern
    completes the night;
    moonless darkness

    Thought about ending this one “shadows swell and dance”, but it felt too explicit a personification. I ended up putting that idea in a haynaku written the same day.

  40. 2025-11-19

    the dying light
    eases clinging snow
    into the earth
  41. 2025-11-19

    river rises;
    in the black water
    fish peck at snow
  42. 2025-11-19

    gutted towers
    devour the sky,
    but stars spill through
  43. 2025-11-19

    cat's pawprints
    appearing nowhere
    but mud and snow
  44. 2025-11-19

    a smudge of sun—
    birds feast on worms
    in pure snowmelt
  45. 2025-11-14

    cold rain—
    even the wind hides
    in my jacket
  46. 2025-11-11

    snails and I
    walking in the dark
    slowly
  47. 2025-11-11

    grey clouds
    straining, straining
    to be seen
  48. 2025-11-11

    a spiderweb
    sags under the weight
    of success
  49. 2025-11-10

    in the blue hour,
    gravestones and mourners—
    no, just gravestones

    Thought about ending this “no, only stones”, but I feel like the repetition of the full word “gravestones” is clearer and works better? Also, I considered startin this with just “blue hour” instead of “in the blue hour”, but I think the latter has a sense of time and place, while the former only has a sense of time. Could also have ended the middle line with an ellipsis.

  50. 2025-11-09

    tiny snails
    each dwarfing the next
    summit the boot
  51. 2025-11-02

    evergreens
    blacken the night sky;
    white clouds of breath
  52. 2025-11-01

    hidden fireworks
    shake the black windows;
    laughter pierces rain
  53. 2025-10-15

    leaf and branch
    reconciled
    on the ground
  54. 2025-09-30

    the storm has passed
    but rain still falls
    beneath the trees

    The fourth and best version of this haiku.

  55. 2025-09-30

    clap-clap-clap!
    scattering acorns
    scatter crows
  56. 2025-08-17

    moss masks
    oak-bark cracks
    open wide

    Just messing around with verb/noun confusion.

  57. 2025-08-14

    dust and dew
    reveal the spiderweb
    through its ruin
  58. 2025-08-08

    moonlight
    draws clouds
    in the dark

    Based on a fragment from the same day. This is one of those haiku that could also be a haynaku.

  59. 2025-06-10

    blinding glare:
    gives form to windows
    hides shadows
  60. 2025-05-21

    board by board
    year by year
    the fence comes down
  61. 2025-05-17

    blackbird and I
    equally shocked—
    it landed on my hand
  62. 2025-05-14

    time
    renames
    the gravestones
  63. 2025-05-12

    bright sun
    darkens
    the stormfont
  64. 2025-05-10

    rising red
    before dawn—
    spider bite and I
  65. 2025-05-04

    bats peek
    from under the eaves
    of the unsold house
  66. 2025-05-02

    the wasp queen's din
    rattles the window;
    day moon
  67. 2025-04-30

    pearlblack beetles
    marathon the road;
    roadkill city burns
  68. 2025-04-29

    caterpillars flex;
    sinewy beech bark
    glints in the sun
  69. 2025-04-27

    formidable
    serried pigeons
    scatter with a glance
  70. 2025-04-27

    darkness pools
    in the dry pond
    leaf bones eddy
  71. 2025-04-23

    deer stream past
    flowing through the trees;
    a faun freezes
  72. 2025-04-19

    brilliant tar and moss
    paint the tree stump
    behind the bluebells
  73. 2025-04-19

    beneath the bulwark
    a fox's bones
    breathe in the breeze
  74. 2025-04-18

    funeral knells
    collide overhead—
    the rain hardens
  75. 2025-04-18

    clouds overwhelm;
    elderflower blossom
    turns the colour of sky
  76. 2025-04-16

    clouds shot through with light—
    the entire sky
    is the sun
  77. 2025-04-12

    the motorway darkens
    the faces
    in the cars
  78. 2025-04-10

    tenderly
    carried on a twig
    a wounded worm
  79. 2025-04-10

    stark shadows
    crossing the field
    to meet me

    At first I had the last line as “to greet me”, but I think “meet” is a bit more open-ended while still having at least one clear meaning.

  80. 2025-04-10

    snow blossom
    melts from the trees
    onto black earth
  81. 2025-04-09

    cold red lights
    over the valley
    dark houses
  82. 2025-04-09

    a lost fawn
    behind the kuti
    leaves snap
  83. 2025-04-08

    red brick
    crumbles in my hand
    freeze-thaw
  84. 2025-04-08

    patient bees
    bumbling in line
    first flower
  85. 2025-04-08

    old trees bend
    holding, avoiding
    empty air
  86. 2025-04-07

    screams in the woods
    camp children at play—
    gunshots
  87. 2025-04-07

    padlock and chain
    on a gate I can climb—
    the gate falls down
  88. 2025-04-07

    foil balloons
    fallen from somewhere
    HAPpy BIRthday
  89. 2025-04-07

    fallen fence posts
    mark the old border;
    who cares?
  90. 2025-04-07

    crisp morning
    a ragged butterfly
    dies in my hand
  91. 2025-04-06

    witch's broom
    blanketed by snow;
    delicate and coarse
  92. 2025-04-06

    on the first warm day
    people pack the streets
    a bicycle crash
  93. 2025-04-06

    kneeling in shade;
    a cat circles me
    smelling the town
  94. 2025-04-06

    fungal baubles
    cling to dead wood;
    the sky turns white
  95. 2025-04-06

    falling, growing
    out of an empty sky
    blue butterfly
  96. 2025-04-06

    dog and man
    stand in the road
    watching twilight
  97. 2025-04-05

    thirsty trails
    suck down blood—
    outlaw season
  98. 2025-04-05

    the night shrieks;
    inside, soft darkness purrs
    in my arms

    Really not sure whether to remove some of these words. Something like “night shrieks; / soft darkness purrs / in my arms” might work just as well.

  99. 2025-04-04

    stumbling
    pries a heavy stone
    from dry earth
  100. 2025-03-31

    a keening jet plane
    silences the murmurs
    of the day