Life is like a well. The fresh water is waiting, but you need to make the effort to obtain it.
***
I was thinking that I'd turn it into a haiku. So here is another version. All I've done is take some words away (syllables are 5,7,5):
Life is like a well.
The fresh water is waiting,
make the effort to obtain.
It is a brilliant thought, and I couldn't agree more with the idea.
ReplyDeleteYou're totally on the right track with taking words away. Writing haiku is about stripping the idea to its most bare essence. Writing haiku is like a form of meditation. Strip the sentence of everything unnecessary. Just like in meditation where you stop all non-essential thought.
Another suggestion: don't get caught up in counting syllables. It becomes a temptation to pad it out. Or it becomes an excuse to stop pruning the poem.
One thing about haiku: you rarely see explicit similes or metaphors ("like" or "is"). In a work as short as this, a poet can condense the first line to
"Life, a well."
The second line can be condensed too
"The fresh water waits,"
Finally, be careful about making commands (note the irony of my sentence). Commands are for critics. In Eastern religions, action and effort aren't the way. The Zen or Taoist master doesn't go to the well. All the water he needs drips from heaven into his mouth. If he is truly detached, he needn't even tilt his head back. The water thirsts for his tongue.
(Take note that the Master is playing tricks on you. How does the water really get in his mouth? It all depends on how it is perceived.)
The water thirsts for his tongue. That's actually not a bad line. I'd suggest it as an alternative third line.
I do apologize if I've run away with your poem, but here's what I come up with:
Life, a well.
The fresh water waits;
it thirsts for a tongue.
Obviously my version has its own flaws, it's not perfect, but I think I've come through a bit of the process with you.