Tweetspeak Poetry

  • Home
  • FREE prompts
  • Earth Song
  • Every Day Poems—Subscribe! ✨
  • Teaching Tools
  • Books, Etc.
  • Patron Love

Grief, a Leaf, and Haibun Magic

By Michelle Rinaldi Ortega 18 Comments

how to write a haibun fall leaf
I opened the email and scanned the reminder for an upcoming poetry retreat; I had registered for The Art of the Moment: Haiku and Haibun, in late spring. Now it was October, and just over a month since my father had passed away from ALS. I had envisioned the day to be a respite, possibly an infusion of creativity amidst our family’s stress, but never realized that by the fall he would be gone.

I considered canceling, unsure that I had the focus, or even the desire, to write. I worried my grief would spill over, out of context, in small group discussions. ALS had stripped my father’s body slowly at first. He needed help with buttons and jar lids, the clip on the dog’s leash. Then like an avalanche, he lost his balance, his leg strength, and every intricate hand movement that allowed his independence. In the end, the effects of ALS consumed our family, even when Dad was admitted to a nursing facility for full time care. I feared I didn’t have enough distance from his death to be able to process anything on paper.

I had never heard of haibun before, though, and was intrigued. The retreat was just a 20-minute drive from my home, and I didn’t want to regret not going, so last minute on a brisk autumn morning, I packed a notebook and pens in my bag and decided to go. As I drove away from my neighborhood and into our local mountains, the morning sun strobed through the tree line, flashing patterns over my windshield. I flipped the visor down to shield my eyes, continued slowly uphill, through winding roads that must have been wagon trails in earlier times.

Donna Baier Stein, author and founding publisher of Tiferet Journal, hosted the retreat in her home. The wide open front door casually offered a welcome; I entered and found my way into the kitchen, where other poets stood around the center island, pouring tea and coffee and chatting introductions and greetings. Large windows extended the view into landscape and the surrounding woods. The house, nestled into a hill, overlooked some treetops on the property’s far edge. Summer-green foliage held fast but competed with butter-yellows and pentecostal reds that had already turned. One by one, about 10 of us, wandered into the living room and sat down.

A sofa and various chairs were arranged in a circle. Our retreat leader, author and poet Adele Kenny, introduced herself and shared her passion for poetry, and for helping others craft their work. As she spoke, my lingering tensions eased, and I settled deeper into my chair.

***

Traditional haiku consist of 17 on, or morae (sound symbols) in phrases of 5-7-5. Although this rule is commonly understood as American syllables, this is a loose translation not essential to the form. Adele gave the group a prompt, “distant thunder,” a few minutes to compose our lines, and encouraged us to start with 10-20 syllables in a three-line format, focusing on a single, seasonal moment.

distant thunder––
rain soaks
faraway land

As a hobby photographer, I often paired haiku with images I posted on Instagram, which was a first-step back to writing poetry after a decades-long hiatus. Haiku complimented my photographer’s eye, where I can craft angle, lighting, shadow and depth of field in a single frame. Attempts to produce poems without a visual referent challenged me, but as we shared our haiku around the circle, I witnessed the possibilities of this little form. The verse varied with each poet in the group; despite its simplicity, the haiku captured a slant of elegance, violence and infinite facets of nature.

During our mid-morning break, I wandered back to the windows. Dad loved the woods, especially in autumn; one comfort was that he wouldn’t be hostage to his failing flesh while his season blazed outside the window. I peered up to the skylights in the ceiling, traced the shadows they made over our sunny retreat space, appreciated the clear New Jersey sky overhead.

***

After break, the discussion turned to the haibun, which combines prose poetry with haiku, first recorded by the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho in his travel journals. The subject of a haibun can range from autobiography, a moment in time, a physical or internal journey, an emotional travel journal and beyond. Typically, a paragraph of prose is followed by haiku, though the structure can be flexible: several prose paragraphs and one final haiku, alternating prose/haiku for several paragraphs, haiku to begin (less common).

Without wholly defining an experience, images and impressions set a mood by connecting bits and pieces of a story. Conventional grammar and punctuation rules are as bent and fluid as willow branches. Prose poetry, as Adele explained to our group that morning, often contains “a nod to the surreal.” The prose and the haiku portions complement each other, although the haiku isn’t merely the last line of the poem. It can serve as closure, or a jumping off point for the reader’s experience, an invitation of sorts, to extend the poetic journey.

***

Mid-afternoon, we dispersed for time to free write. Some found nooks inside the house, others wandered the scenic yard. I chose to stay in my seat; I gazed up to the skylight, once again, and watched a leaf drift to the glass. Overcome with memory, I wrote.

My sister and I, and our dear friend were with my father in his palliative care room the morning that he passed. Danielle curled up next to him on the bed, Chris by his feet; I stood beside them, one hand on Dad’s head, one hand on his chest, over his heart. As he breathed his last, the sensation of his soul lifting from the cage of his body reverberated through me. Washed me in peace as I grieved.

A few weeks after the retreat, I finally finished my first of many haibun.

Away

I slide my Converse off and perch in half-lotus on the armless chair. Ribs spiral away from the spine—I inhale. Exhale, ribs roll in. Spiral away, roll in. Away.

Through the skylight, no cirriform wisp, no crows; simply blue until the leaf. Dry veins, frail—it lands on the skylight.

Last month Dad shed his body for flight. Away.

long shadows
give shape
to light

***

With time and practice, I have come to enjoy crafting poetry in these three forms (haiku, haibun and prose poem). The forms aren’t interchangeable––without hard and fast rules, sometimes a prose poem is just that, and doesn’t require the haiku for resolution. A haiku may stand on its own more resolutely than any prose could help accomplish. Once in a while, something as poignant as a small brown leaf is the spark for haibun magic.

Photo by Bùi Linh Ngân, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post b Michelle Rinaldi Ortega.

  • Author
  • Recent Posts
Michelle Rinaldi Ortega
Michelle Rinaldi Ortega
As a quiet child and angst-y teen, Michelle loved to read and write. When poetry found her again about fifteen years ago, the Tweetspeak community brought her multiple resources on journey, from content to courses to in-person meetups. She hosted Tweetspeak’s very first Mischief Cafe! A speech-language pathologist by day, Michelle's avocations include travel across the country and the globe, as well as digital and black and white film photography. Michelle is the author of Don't Ask Why from Seven Kitchens Press. Her microchapbook, Tissue Memory, is forthcoming from Porkbelly Press. You can find her work at www.michelleortegawrites.com and on IG @michellebelleslp.
Michelle Rinaldi Ortega
Latest posts by Michelle Rinaldi Ortega (see all)
  • Poet Laura: Message in a Bottle - October 16, 2024
  • Poet Laura: Poems for Liminal Times - September 4, 2024
  • Poet Laura: Chicken Dreams - August 14, 2024

Filed Under: Blog, Grief Poems, Haibun, Haiku

Try Every Day Poems...

Comments

  1. Bethany R. says

    June 6, 2020 at 11:47 am

    Beautiful haibun, Michelle. I haven’t explored this form before. I enjoyed hearing your take on it and reading one of your own. 🙂 I love the image and insight you offer as you close. Thank you for sharing this.

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      June 7, 2020 at 7:58 am

      Thank you for reading and posting, Bethany. How did this form escape us for so long? 🙂

      Reply
  2. Laura says

    June 6, 2020 at 9:48 pm

    I don’t know why, but it always takes me by surprise how poetry helps me process grief. You’d think I would know by now and go there first. But grief has to find its own way, doesn’t it? This is lovely, Michelle. ((Hugs)) to you.

    Reply
  3. Michelle Ortega says

    June 7, 2020 at 8:00 am

    ((hugs back)) Thank you, Laura. I think it’s the slowing, and the self-noticing of poetry that guides us. Sometimes we want to rush the healing, and poetry doesn’t let us. 🙂

    Reply
  4. Tuula says

    June 7, 2020 at 4:06 pm

    Michelle my friend, thank you for showing me the way back to poetry and introducing the haibun.🙂

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      June 8, 2020 at 6:21 am

      Tuula, I’m so glad to “poetry” with you! 🙂

      Reply
  5. Megan Willome says

    June 8, 2020 at 9:54 am

    Michelle, I’m so grateful for this reminder about haibun, a form I’ve used once, during a trip, to memorialize it, but then abandoned. Getting to read your process, especially how you started by writing a prose poem, is so helpful for me.

    For the last three years I’ve written a haiku every day, basically a three-line diary entry. Like you said, many of them are just fine as is. But for others, I wish I had written more while keeping the haiku. I will be experimenting with this, thanks to you.

    So happy to see all the places you’ve been publishing!

    Reply
    • michelle ortega says

      June 8, 2020 at 11:40 am

      Thanks so much, Megan. It’s been fun to have these publications show up now, especially since a few were submitted mid-year 2019! This one is COVID19 current, though! 😉 I’m glad to hear that you’ll be experimenting with the haibun. Let me know how it goes!

      Reply
  6. Darlene says

    June 14, 2020 at 11:19 am

    Michelle –

    These two bits pack such depth for me (and maybe others too?): “I packed a notebook and pens in my bag and decided to go” & “simply blue until the leaf.”

    Your writing always has been beautiful. And here, emotion and setting are all at once subtle and exquisite — what wonderful tools you’ve used to teach poetry through storytelling.

    Kudos, my friend.

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      June 14, 2020 at 12:47 pm

      Thank you for “stopping by,” dear friend, and for your kind support. Lots of love your way!

      Reply
  7. Sandra Heska King says

    June 17, 2020 at 8:01 am

    I’m late to this “party,” but oh my, Michelle.

    First, I am so proud of you for going to that retreat. Honestly, the whole idea of being with a group of poets in someone’s home kind of terrified me. LOL. That’s the introverted and unsure of myself part of me.

    I’d never heard of a haibun.

    You inspire me.

    Also, this… “the sensation of his soul lifting from the cage of his body” took me right back to my mother’s bedside where I audibly heard the sound (a “clank” is the only way I can describe it) of her soul leaving.

    So many hugs. I hate that we almost–maybe–had a chance of sharing a cup of tea this past spring. (Dumb virus)

    And…

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      June 18, 2020 at 5:43 am

      Thank you, Sandy! I’m happy to have brought the haibun to light. I wonder why it’s such an unknown form? Never heard of it before the retreat, either.

      Isn’t it a crazy experience, being present as someone passes? Reading about your time in hospice with your mom definitely influenced my time with my dad (although his stay was much shorter). Crazy silly, laughter and tears all at once.

      I’m sad we missed our tea this spring, too. Maybe next year we’ll have a rum punch at Captain Tony’s in Key West…;-) Tori and I have been dreaming up some travel plans during isolation LOL. And hopefully you’ll get back up here, too.

      Reply
      • Sandra Heska King says

        June 18, 2020 at 7:38 am

        Key West together would be so fun. It’s beginning to look like we won’t make it this year. 🙁

        D’s company has been having him do all what would normally have to be on-site visits by Zoom. And they want them done by September instead of December as usual. In other words, it looks like we are grounded for the year. Unless this dumb virus gives up so we can go on our own. We haven’t even seen the Florida grands since March. I should write a haibun.

        Reply
        • Michelle Ortega says

          June 18, 2020 at 10:43 pm

          Yes, write that haibun! I can’t imagine what the separation has been like for all of you. Your family is so close!

          Reply
  8. Dheepa Maturi says

    June 17, 2020 at 6:44 pm

    I truly enjoyed this essay and the interweaving of your craft and art. And the haibun resulting from your retreat was soulful, elegant, evocative. Thank you for sharing this story!

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      June 18, 2020 at 5:45 am

      Thank you for reading and stopping by to comment, Dheepa! I appreciate your kindness. 🙂

      That workshop led to the publication in Tiferet when we were in class together, and both had poems in the issue, right next to each other. So glad we connected there and here!!

      Reply
  9. Diana Webb says

    October 3, 2021 at 10:57 am

    Haibun is my favourite form of writing. I have published 4 books of haibun with a 5th to appear soon and I also just guest edited the online haibun journal Drifting Sands . I was very impressed by your first attempt. For me every haibun is like the first haibun.

    Reply
    • Michelle Ortega says

      October 20, 2021 at 11:20 am

      Hi Diana, thank you for the encouragement on my haibun, and for introducing us to drifting-sands-haibun. I’ll enjoy reading through the site soon. It’s great to connect here!

      Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Take How to Read a Poem

Get the Introduction, the Billy Collins poem, and Chapter 1

get the sample now

Welcome to Tweetspeak

New to Tweetspeak Poetry? Start here, in The Mischief Café. You're a regular? Check out our May Menu

Patron Love

❤️

Welcome a little patron love, when you help keep the world poetic.

The Graphic Novel

"Stunning, heartbreaking, and relevant illustrations"

Callie Feyen, teacher

read a summary of The Yellow Wallpaper

meet The Yellow Wallpaper characters

How to Write Poetry

Your Comments

  • Glynn on World War II Had Its Poets, Too
  • Sandra Fox Murphy on World War II Had Its Poets, Too
  • Glynn on Poets and Poems: Kelly Belmonte and “The Mother of All Words”
  • Bethany R. on Poets and Poems: Kelly Belmonte and “The Mother of All Words”

Featured In

We're happy to have been featured in...

The Huffington Post

The Paris Review

The New York Observer

Tumblr Book News

Stay in Touch With Us

Categories

Learn to Write Form Poems

How to Write an Acrostic

How to Write a Ballad

How to Write a Catalog Poem

How to Write a Ghazal

How to Write a Haiku

How to Write an Ode

How to Write a Pantoum

How to Write a Rondeau

How to Write a Sestina

How to Write a Sonnet

How to Write a Villanelle

5 FREE POETRY PROMPTS

Get 5 FREE inbox poetry prompts from the popular book How to Write a Poem

Shakespeare Resources

Poetry Classroom: Sonnet 18

Common Core Picture Poems: Sonnet 73

Sonnet 104 Annotated

Sonnet 116 Annotated

Character Analysis: Romeo and Juliet

Character Analysis: Was Hamlet Sane or Insane?

Why Does Hamlet Wait to Kill the King?

10 Fun Shakespeare Resources

About Shakespeare: Poet and Playwright

Top 10 Shakespeare Sonnets

See all 154 Shakespeare sonnets in our Shakespeare Library!

Explore Work From Black Poets

About Us

  • • A Blessing for Writers
  • • Our Story
  • • Meet Our Team
  • • Literary Citizenship
  • • Poet Laura
  • • Poetry for Life: The 5 Vital Approaches
  • • T. S. Poetry Press – All Books
  • • Contact Us

Write With Us

  • • 5 FREE Poetry Prompts-Inbox Delivery
  • • 30 Days to Richer Writing Workshop
  • • Poetry Prompts
  • • Submissions
  • • The Write to Poetry

Read With Us

  • • All Our Books
  • • Book Club
  • • Every Day Poems—Subscribe! ✨
  • • Literacy Extras
  • • Poems to Listen By: Audio Series
  • • Poet-a-Day
  • • Poets and Poems
  • • 50 States Projects
  • • Charlotte Perkins Gilman Poems Library
  • • Edgar Allan Poe Poems Arts & Experience Library
  • • William Blake Poems Arts & Experience Library
  • • William Shakespeare Sonnet Library

Celebrate With Us

  • • Poem on Your Pillow Day
  • • Poetic Earth Month
  • • Poet in a Cupcake Day
  • • Poetry at Work Day
  • • Random Acts of Poetry Day
  • • Take Your Poet to School Week
  • • Take Your Poet to Work Day

Gift Ideas

  • • Every Day Poems
  • • Our Shop
  • • Everybody Loves a Book!

Connect

  • • Donate
  • • Blog Buttons
  • • By Heart
  • • Shop for Tweetspeak Fun Stuff

Copyright © 2025 Tweetspeak Poetry · FAQ, Disclosure & Privacy Policy