Poetry Prompt: Petite Haibun
This prompt invites you to experiment with a hybrid form of poetry. The haibun is a Japanese hybrid form–it’s a combination of poetry and prose, and the perfect writing exercise both for poetry lovers and those who may feel apprehensive about trying poetry. A haibun describes something in nature (defined in a manner of your choosing), and this description is capped with a haiku (a haiku is a three line poem that consists of 5-, 7-, and 5-syllable lines). The Petite Haibun is my version of this poetic form–it contains the elements of a traditional haibun in the space of 100 words.
If you would like to learn more about the haibun or other poetic forms, The Academy of American Poets website is a wonderful resource. You can find a more detailed description of the haibun form as well as contemporary and classic examples. Contemporary Haibun Online is a virtual journal devoted to the form.
Writing your Petite Haibun
The haibun is a place-oriented form. Rather than focusing on an imaginary place, or a place you have visited once, I would encourage you to write about a place in Louisiana. A boat launch, a street corner, a place you have seen so often you hardly notice it. A place you find boring. A place where you have felt invisible. The challenge here is to really see—look closely and notice everything—no detail is too small to include in your haibun. After you capture some details of the place you have chosen to write about, you might expand your vision to describe what is happening around you.
- Specific Details
- End with a Haiku
resist the urge to create a traditional narrative with a traditional conclusion. End your piece with a haiku. If you have trouble with the 5-7-5 syllable line structure, go for a seventeen syllable sentence instead.
Most Important
This reminder goes for every prompt, and every time you sit down to work on your own writing. Think of the prompt as an inspiration or a set of loose set of guidelines. If inspiration hits and takes you in a totally unexpected direction, please follow. Those moments are among the best in
Here is a petite haibun that I wrote. I’d love to see what you have written–please share in a workshop, or contact me.
Gauche
I renounced the slab house suburbs, though in secret I loved how sameness belied the mystery of inside lives. One had mimosa trees. One caught fire twice. Hunting dogs in a run that backed up to a bayou flecked with gars lunged for my fingers, but I never gave up trying to make friends. Everything is different now—wrong—houses changing hands so many times that neighbors are strangers suspicious of me returning to our hideaway repurposed with benches and native plants—
butterfly garden
in the spot where we butchered
nutria for teeth.