Last weekend we went to Haiku ("poetic food and art) in Columbus, a restaurant featuring (among other things) a box filled with pieces of colored scratch paper on each table, for the people in the restaurant to write their own haiku as they ate. The restaurant had a stacks of the writings people had left behind pinned with clothes-pins to pillars.
Most of the contributions, of course, weren't haiku, but just little memos with the date and names of the people, or notes saying "I love this place," or doodles of cats or fish. A few, though, were rather charming. A Valentine request asking a multiple-choice response in 5-7-5 form:
Or a somewhat scarier vision of love:
But then, this one seems to gets more directly to the point:
1 comment:
It's a great idea. I did something similar in the city where I grew up. I was haiku poet-in-residence at a city center cafe for a year, and we designed a haiku poetry mailbox too.
They may not be haiku but attempting them does liberate people.
Thanks for the blog post. :-)
warmest regards,
Alan, With Words
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