As I never cease repeating here, it is extremely important not to confuse hokku and haiku. People in the modern haiku community like to say that haiku is just the “new name” for hokku. I consider that quite mistaken.
If, for example, you write little three-line verses that are not set in a particular season, you are writing modern haiku, not hokku. You are not even writing haiku as it was practiced by the fellow who began haiku — Masaoka Shiki. Instead you are writing modern haiku as it is practiced by large numbers of largely self-taught people who have never understood the history and principles of the hokku, or even those of the kind of haiku Shiki wrote. What they are writing is essentially just a little verse of some kind in three lines.
As I have said many times, even though in modern hokku we keep the essential connection with the seasons, we do not practice hokku precisely as did the old Japanese writers. There is a very good reason for this. In old hokku, a system of using “season words” developed. “Season word” use was not just the indication of the season of a verse by including the name of a month or the name of a season. It was done by using particular words that by themselves came to be understood as appropriate in hokku only to a certain season. An obvious one, for example, was “plum blossoms” indicating a verse was a spring verse. That makes sense. But many season words were not obvious at all. For example, a hokku using the term “ebb tide” was also a spring verse; so were verses using “the hazy moon.”
As you might guess, this system became very complicated, so complicated that it eventually took dictionaries of season words and years of study to learn them all and how to use them. You might think, given that Shiki is considered the originator of the haiku, that Shiki would have simplified matters. Actually, just the opposite is true. As R. H. Blyth writes, “In Shiki’s monumental Complete Classified Collection of Haiku there is such an excess of system that the poetry is swamped by it. For example, there are no less than fifty classes of fans alone.” By “classes of fans” he means divisions of fans used as season words. And remember, that is just fans.
Very few people writing modern haiku still use season words. There has been, in the past few years, an effort to encourage their use among some haiku writers, and even attempts to compile big lists of “international” season words, but the result is just to bring back the complexity that helped to spoil the hokku originally, and to make it far less spontaneous over the years. And in any case, most modern writers of haiku do not use the season word system at all, in any form.
The problem then, is this: If, historically, hokku has always been seasonal verse — with verses connected to and expressing particular seasons of the year — how does one practice it today without the complexity of learning huge numbers of season words, a situation made vastly more complicated now than it was even in the late days of the old hokku? If one abandons the seasonal connection, it should be obvious that one is no longer writing hokku, but instead modern haiku.
The answer is really very simple. We cut through the Gordian knot of the problem by simply classifying every hokku we write by the season in which it was written. A spring hokku is marked “spring”; a summer hokku “summer” and autumn/fall hokku is marked “autumn” or “fall”; and a winter hokku is marked “winter.” Whenever a hokku is shared or printed, that seasonal classification goes with it.
That eliminates with one blow the needless complexity old hokku developed over time, and it maintains the essential connection of hokku and the seasons that makes it hokku and not modern haiku.
Of course there are numerous other differences between hokku and modern haiku, many of which I have discussed in past postings here. But the point I want to make today is that hokku without a seasonal connection is not hokku. One might say that if one takes from the hokku its principles and aesthetics and standards, what is left is modern haiku, like the pulp that is left when the juice is pressed from an apple. In hokku we want the apple, full and entire.