O2 Haiku Editors 10/01/2026 O2 Haiku Editors 10/01/2026

You are a poet.

She smiled, and said: “There is no such thing as an aspiring poet. If you write poetry, you are a poet.”

By Samantha Pardo Irigoyen

It was an absolute honor to attend the 2025 Haiku North America conference this past year in San Francisco. There is a wonderful conference tradition upheld every two years: any attending poet can submit their haiku for the conference anthology. I am incredibly grateful to have my name and work amongst all the esteemed and award-winning poets of this genre, including an ex- U.S. Poet Laureate. If you are curious about the anthology, it can be found on Amazon via the link at the bottom of this page.

Haiku seems to find us when we most need it. In all my conversations and encounters with other haiku poets, I never once felt as though I was infringing on some exclusive society. Everyone was warm, welcoming, and intrigued about my journey into the world of haiku. I strongly encourage other poets to ask your peers about their journey. The stories I heard from other poets were nothing short of inspiring.

Amongst the wonderful stories, and meaningful guidance I received during the conference, a specific phrase continued to ring in my ears. It went something like this: “If you cannot write haiku on the spot, or think of a haiku on the spot, you are not a haiku poet.”

I found that sentiment to be completely off-putting. I am a thirty something year old, stay-at-home mom. I write poetry while my child is at preschool or sleeping, alongside other stressors. While the comment garnered a brief laugh from the crowd, it continued to echo in my mind for the rest of the conference. Was I not a poet? Was I not good enough?

Years ago, I attended my first poetry workshop with Marguerite Maria Rivas at a Staten Island Library. She was a Poet Laureate for Staten Island and I was eager to learn everything that she was willing to teach. During introductions and ice-breakers, I said, “Hello, my name is Samantha Pardo Irigoyen and I am an aspiring poet—” and she immediately cut me off. I was shocked, already nervous about being new to the group, and then having her stop me mid-sentence nearly incited a heart attack. She asked me, “Do you write poetry?” To which I responded, “Well, yes, I have been writing poetry for as long as I can remember.”

She smiled, and said:

“There is no such thing as an aspiring poet.

If you write poetry, you are a poet.”

This brief conversation was exactly what I needed to hear at the time, and has stuck with me since. I had finally clawed my way out of post-partum depression and was pursuing things that I enjoyed. In my mind, however, the “perfect poet” was one that was published, anthologized, in books, etc. The United States is a capitalistic society, no getting around that— and that very mindset became a hinderance to how I perceived my work; it did not have value if it was not accepted by someone else, and I was paid for my time.

Marguerite helped me reframe my mind, her encouraging words creating a mantra in my head: if I write poetry, I am a poet, and that is good enough.

She understood what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom. She understood why it was hard to find inspiration some days, and other days not. She encouraged all of us that if an idea comes to you, and all you have next to you is a crayon, write that poem down with a crayon!

I understand where the lecturer was coming from. Haiku, written in English, has changed dramatically over the past few decades, and the way it was previously taught may have shifted as well. I encourage the poets reading this to understand that haiku is ultimately about mindfulness, and awareness. The idea of writing or thinking of a haiku on the spot is something that will come with time. It’s about training the mind to slow down and see the world as it is in the present.

I can also struggle with crafting haiku, and often sit with a single haiku for days at a time, but that does not make it any more or less mindful. We all write at different paces, and all have different amounts of time we can devote to the craft. I think that in these uncertain times, even the pursuance of the art of haiku speaks volumes.

If you write poetry, you are a poet. If you write haiku, you are a haiku poet, haikuist or haijin. It’s not about the product, it’s about the practice.

Stay mindful. Stay Present. Keep writing.

2025 Haiku Convention Anthology:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Nowhere-Else-Haiku-America-Anthology/dp/1878798448

O2 Haiku Editors 10/01/2026 O2 Haiku Editors 10/01/2026

How to Write Haiku

As a poet who only recently transitioned to this form of writing, I was quickly confronted with the realization that every poet has a different understanding of what it means. Even the British Haiku Society stated that anywhere “haiku has established itself… you will find people hallmark it differently.”

By Samantha Pardo Irigoyen

Let’s go back to school and find out…

The origins of haiku are the only thing everyone can agree on in regards to haiku. The Poetry Foundation summarises that haiku derived from a longer Japanese collaborative poetry form called renga. The opening of this collaborative piece was called a hokku, and was a means of setting the poem in a time and place, often using seasonal words and images. Eventually this opener was appreciated as its own art form, and developed by the likes of Basho and Buson. It was only since about the 1900’s that this form entered the Western literary world, and since then has offered an escape from the long-winded poetry forms commonly used in Western poetry.

I first learned about haiku when I was 13 years old, and although my English lesson remains a blur, the one thing cemented into my brain regarding haiku was the famous 5-7-5 syllable count “rule.” We were assigned a project to create a book of 50 poems, and out of all 50 there is only evidence I attempted haiku once… and even then, got it completely wrong:

School can help you,

Provide an education,

And help you succeed.

Though quite embarrassing to share, it’s evidence of my early attempts at writing haiku. It also serves as a snapshot into my Mathematic test scores in school, as I terribly and inaccurately counted syllables. Nevertheless, this is how haiku was taught in school: syllable count being of utmost importance.

For entertainment purposes, what if I were to rewrite this haiku now, 17 years on, and as an established haiku poet and editor?

To begin, the decades old “rule” of 5-7-5 syllable count will be tossed out. While haiku traditionally did follow a 5-7-5 rule, it was not syllables, but sounds. Michael Dylan Welch has a wonderful article on mora, and syllable versus sound counts in Japanese haiku (link below). We also believe that if you are solely focusing on the syllable count, and not the intended imagery, you are missing the point. This “rule” can still be useful in crafting the idea for your haiku, but I have read many wonderful haiku that prove this “rule” is not necessary to bring forth fantastic work. Now, onto the revision.

The main setting of my haiku will be of school. The amazing thing about choosing this backdrop for our haiku, is the many diverse images we can conjure up of school from our youth. For me, I will choose to focus on the school yard, after all the students have gone to their classrooms.

Most haiku contain a kigo, or a seasonal word, that instantly set the haiku in a time and place— allowing the poet a luxury of time and space in this short writing form. Kigo such as: cherry blossoms, fireflies, falling leaves, or even frost; all only happen once a year or for a very limited time within a year.

My kigo will be a “late bell.” While I know that this may seem unorthodox, we know that school itself is a seasonal experience. By using a different kigo like the “late bell,” we can assume that this poem is taking place sometime between Autumn and late Spring, and in the early morning.

Another word to keep in mind in crafting our haiku will be our kireji, which roughly translates into cutting word. This kireji is a word, sound, or other general break that infuses a pause into the moment being discussed. Many poets will emphasise this pause with an ellipsis or hyphen. For my haiku (I will try to keep this haiku short and sweet), my kigo will also double as my kireji. Specifically the “bell,” will act as our cutting word. Many of us have heard a school bell chime, and even if we haven’t heard a school bell, we have all paused in our lives to listen to a bell. This kireji will give the reader a pause in our haiku, before we move into another image in the moment this haiku focuses on.

Haiku are typically broken into two images or thoughts within a single moment, and can focus on peacefulness, and reflection; oftentimes using our above listed kireji to provide juxtaposition in our piece. In keeping with our school theme, we will use a “school yard” for our next visual. Although, schoolyards in general were always a boisterous place, I chose to address it a different way seeing as haiku is typically a peaceful genre.

Another important element of haiku is that of nature. Even in urban environments, nature still manages to creep into our everyday lives. For this, we can add a different, maybe under appreciated animal to this poem— pigeons. Our “late bell” having rung, should mean the schoolyard would be empty, and all of the students should be in their respective classrooms. But what if instead, it was still full… of pigeons.

This allows the piece to shift the readers attention, realizing that the activity of the students continues on in the form of pigeons now making use of the vacated space.

Given the length of haiku, every word is important. Every word should have a specific purpose, yet light enough to not dwell on for the remainder of the piece. Pigeons, which are highly adaptable, and throughout history, have been found living side-by-side with humans— serve as the perfect natural companion to what would otherwise be an abandoned urban space. With our scene, characters, and actions in place we can now craft a fun, playful haiku in the spirit of school:

late bell

the schoolyard full

of pigeons

The timeless beauty of haiku is being able to reinterpret the same piece in different ways, every time you read it. Depending on your mental and emotional state, the message you receive from this piece can mean different things to you. For this poem, the readers mind fills with questions, yet allows them to feel content with the outcome, even if their questions aren’t fully answered.

Haiku, to me, are about mindfulness. Each moment clear and concise, with vivid imagery thoroughly embedded; each word cleverly chosen for maximum effect. Finally, the reader should never be left with a deep philosophical question, but instead should feel fully content with this snapshot in time.