Haiku And The Art Of Flaneur

I’ve been taking an online class in Flash Fiction and really enjoying it. It’s good to think about writing differently and to try some new approaches to story.

One of the first things we did was write a series of haikus—still observations, descriptions with a sense of presence. In each haiku, we were asked to depict a moment in time when we were suddenly aware of reality though something simple and ordinary but striking.

Recording the art of flaneur.

Here are a few from my daily wanderings~

A man in the park
Sits on a stool and plays the saxophone
Cars honk and dogs bark

Six tai chi dancers

Slowly swing their swords in circles

Overhead a hawk

Dog chases a pigeon

Wet grass shimmers in the sun

My socks are cold and wet

Boots pound down the hill 

Hot sun on the back of my neck

No fog on the bay

A flock of green and red

Squealing like bicycle breaks

Backpack baby cries

Hydrangea stars burst


Wood steps lined in green and white

Bridge lights sweep in waves

After writing the haikus, we used them to build a story—or rather tried to incorporate them into a very short story—a piece of flash fiction. This turned out to be a brilliant tool for bringing specific details, sensual details, into a scene. I’ve started using it in my longer fiction—mentally “walking” through a scene with an eye, an ear, a sniff here and there, and then jotting down a series of quick haiku-like poems that can be folded back into the scene.

It’s also a fun way to make journal entries, to find the extraordinary in the ordinary details of your day. 

I encourage you to try a little haiku in your life—you just might really like it!

Take good care,

Sharry