DAOKU IS THE SEED OF POETRY

Daoku — once one understands the form and aesthetics — is really very simple.

First, the subject must be Nature and the place of humans within, and as a part of, Nature.  Second, the verse must be set in one of the four seasons — spring, summer, fall, and winter.

Then there are the things that should be left out of daoku:  romance, sex, violence, things in general that tend to trouble or disturb the mind.

There is also the format.  A modern English-language daoku is written in three short lines, with the first letter of each line capitalized, and with appropriate internal and ending punctuation.  And the daoku should consist of a longer (two lines) and a shorter (one line) part, separated by appropriate punctuation.

As for aesthetics, daoku rely on the concrete, on things and on sensory experience rather than ideas or opinions about them.  It abandons “thinking” — intellectualizing and cleverness — and emphasizes the perceiving of things through the senses.

Put that way, it does not really seem difficult, does it?  All of that is easy for people to do.

The most difficult part of daoku is to be able to achieve its sense of spareness and simplicity and the overall oneness of humans and Nature and the changing seasons.  That sense of unity is very important.  Everything in a daoku should be related, instead of just being a random assemblage of things.  Without that aesthetic, daoku does not really attain what it should.  And the way to get that into your daoku is to get the writer out of the way, to take the emphasis off the self, and to put it into experiencing.

Daoku is in the objective hokku aesthetic tradition.  Let’s look at an objective hokku by the old Japanese writer Kikaku, translated into English daoku form:

(Summer)

Summer rain;
A woman sitting alone,
Gazing outside.

Eight words.  That is all it takes in English.  It is in three lines, appropriately capitalized and punctuated.  It takes place in a given season (summer) and has that season as its heading.  It has two parts: 1.  Summer rain; 2.  A woman sitting alone / Gazing outside, separated by appropriate punctuation (the semicolon after “rain”).  It is a sensory experience, primarily sight, but also the implied sound and feel of summer rain.  The words are simple and direct.

Though it is obvious that this is a summer hokku (given that it includes the word), a season heading is added in parentheses at the beginning to show how modern daoku are shared.  Not all old hokku contain the season name, and it is important in reading both them and modern daoku to know the season.  In modern daoku that is done by putting it just before a single verse or a collection of verses of the same season.  The season of a daoku should always go with it when it is shared with others or published.

Though daoku may be used out of season when teaching, ordinarily a daoku should be written and read in its appropriate season, rather than in another.  That give us a greater sense of unity — of being in harmony with the season.

So you see, writing daoku is really not difficult at all.  It just takes time to learn the aesthetic approach appropriate to it, because people are so accustomed to verses that either tell a story, or express what we think about something, or comment on things, or are all about me, me, me — all things that must be dropped to write good daoku.  As you see, there is no “me” in Kikaku’s  objective hokku to get between the reader and the experience.  There is only the experience itself, and that is daoku.

We are not told why the woman is sitting there, or why she is staring so fixedly.  That omission is important.  The questions that poetry in general so often answers are left unanswered in daoku.  Instead, we just want the experience, plain and unadorned by thought and comment.

We do not describe daoku as poetry, because the verse itself is not poetry.  With daoku, the poetry is the deep feeling the reader gets on reading it.  The daoku is the seed, and the poetry bursts from that seed in the mind of the reader when the hokku is read.  So the poetry of daoku is not on the page; it is in the mind.

 

David

One thought on “DAOKU IS THE SEED OF POETRY

  1. “The daoku is the seed, and the poetry bursts from that seed in the mind of the reader when the hokku is read.” I like that explanation, David. Thanks!

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