Polona Oblak lives in Ljubljana, Slovenia. When she's not busy making a living at a financial institution, she enjoys walks in the nature with her camera. Her haiku have appeared worldwide in publications such as Notes from the Gean, haijinx and The Heron's Nest.
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9 thoughts on “”
Tatoos and the imaging and transformation of the self…I really dig this haiku.
The real butterfly becoming a skin-deep sign of the inner person, or psyche? Much to contemplate regarding process in this one. Skillfully done, Polona.
Wow, I really admire this.
What a fresh and original take on the traditional kigo of a butterfly in haiku. The poet has turned inward, and the poem she is preparing to write takes shape, mysteriously, marvelously, until like a chrysalis she brings forth her poem. For me the inks are the coloured inks of a woodblock print butterfly. But so mysterious is this process, and so beautiful the product, that the awestruck poet almost cannot recognize herself as responsible. It is the ink that has rendered itself into the words, into the image, through a process, a life-force, almost separate from herself. And the result is stunning.
What I also particularly like is the remarkable invocation of a sensual experience that for me captures something like what I imagine is the prickly and painful experience of a transforming caterpillar. The current cultural fad for tattoos, which several readers have alluded, involves repeatedly injecting ink under the skin through needles. My own skin crawls at the thought of those needles, and so like a caterpillar I writhe until the poem takes it beautiful final shape.
Tatoos and the imaging and transformation of the self…I really dig this haiku.
much appreciated, Ross. thank you
Very beautiful, Polona!
many thanks, Dawn :)
aha! my favorite haiku poetess. lovely as always :) — SMA
thank you, Scott!
The real butterfly becoming a skin-deep sign of the inner person, or psyche? Much to contemplate regarding process in this one. Skillfully done, Polona.
appreciate your insightful comment, Lorin, thank you.
btw, my skin is ink-free although i did contemplate getting a tattoo at some point :)
Wow, I really admire this.
What a fresh and original take on the traditional kigo of a butterfly in haiku. The poet has turned inward, and the poem she is preparing to write takes shape, mysteriously, marvelously, until like a chrysalis she brings forth her poem. For me the inks are the coloured inks of a woodblock print butterfly. But so mysterious is this process, and so beautiful the product, that the awestruck poet almost cannot recognize herself as responsible. It is the ink that has rendered itself into the words, into the image, through a process, a life-force, almost separate from herself. And the result is stunning.
What I also particularly like is the remarkable invocation of a sensual experience that for me captures something like what I imagine is the prickly and painful experience of a transforming caterpillar. The current cultural fad for tattoos, which several readers have alluded, involves repeatedly injecting ink under the skin through needles. My own skin crawls at the thought of those needles, and so like a caterpillar I writhe until the poem takes it beautiful final shape.