The 2011 John Brooks Haiku Invitational.
Regular readers will be aware that we have been rummaging about in our now no longer highly secret underground vault at the Smethwick Works over the last few weeks.
The 1880′s Brooks catalogues we unearthed would appear to have been only the proverbial tip of a truly mammoth iceberg of (some would say literally priceless) antique saddles, commemorative jerseys and other assorted Brooks paraphernalia.
But much like our good friend Kara Ginther, we prefer to see our work in motion rather than hanging on a gallery wall, so various disappointed auctioneers have been politely informed that our precious finds will not be going under the hammer.
They will, instead, largely be going under a few very lucky posteriors.
When the time has come (as it now has) to part with a set of objects whose monetary value is virtually incalculable, the sane person can nowadays have recourse to only one method of dispersal…
The Haiku competition.
We give entrants seventeen syllables to capture a special moment in the saddle. Following the semi-strict guidelines laid down on the Wikipedia page “Haiku”, budding poets may wish to mention the time of year in which they set their haiku, or “implicitly contrast and compare two events, images, or situations”.
The main things, though, are seventeen syllables, and moment in saddle. Some examples-
“The body is carried
Entirely upon the broad
Part of the seat”.
The foregoing has been lifted straight out of the 1912 Brooks catalogue. All it really has going for it is its regulation seventeen syllables. Imaginative verbal conjuring on the reader’s part could certainly get it into bona fide Haiku territory, but poetry should be two-way traffic, and contestants are warned anyway that the practise of cutting and pasting sticks out like a sore thumb, and our judging panel takes a very dim view of it.
“Steep hill, sloppy cadence.
Hare finds wet ditch
As I hyperventilate.”
This is more like it. According to the usual search engine searches, it hasn’t been cogged from somewhere else. Seventeen – check. Moment – check. Saddle – check. Maybe a little too punchy, but submitting work of this standard to the “2011 John Brooks Haiku Invitational” could still result in the author opening a large parcel with a Smethwick postmark on it in a few weeks’ time.
“Snow melts. I take the corner
Sharply, and regret fitting
Studded tires.”
The big question here, of course, is how many syllables are there in the word “tires”? The answer is one, so we can take a look at the subject matter. For sure, there’s a seasonal cycling moment eloquently captured. It’s certainly worthy of a podium position. Having said that, there are currently only three entries, and one of them has been disqualified for plagiarism.
Get poem-ing and submit your entries here in this post’s Comment Section, or under the “Brooks Haiku Competition” in the Discussions Section of our Facebook page. We hope to publish progress reports as the submissions begin to flood in, singling out our favourites for a bit of the old red-pen treatment.
We cannot emphasize enough quite how special, unique and beautiful our available Brooks prizes are. Certainly worth seventeen syllables of your time over the course of a lazy weekend.
Posted 3:52 pm
11 Feb 2011
Snow filled environ
Velo dreams left unfulfilled
Sun and hopes arise
Posted 4:02 pm
11 Feb 2011
Miles glide below
Legs churning on, buttery,
Brooks leather abides.
Posted 4:08 pm
11 Feb 2011
No pain here. Not numb.
Can’t believe how far I’ve come.
Leather butt hammock.
Posted 4:10 pm
11 Feb 2011
Steep descent thrilling
Machine parts and body in sync
Handle bar slip spills
Posted 4:15 pm
11 Feb 2011
If I keep riding
Maybe you’ll be able to
See the brass rivets.
Posted 4:18 pm
11 Feb 2011
Sweet Proofide
Sun on hammered rivets
Ride to the river
Love Freedom
Posted 4:25 pm
11 Feb 2011
My new bicycle.
My eighteen year old saddle.
A perfect marriage.
Posted 4:48 pm
11 Feb 2011
A vanishing point
To which the road disappears
I pedal onward.
Posted 4:51 pm
11 Feb 2011
My hands tense. Brakes squeal.
Switchback. Straightaway. Switchback.
I wanna do it again!
Posted 4:54 pm
11 Feb 2011
Hammering warms me
As the crisp air bites my face
Water bottles freeze.
Posted 4:56 pm
11 Feb 2011
Arms sore. Hands cramping.
Lactic acid soaks my legs.
(My bum’s SO comfy.)
Posted 4:58 pm
11 Feb 2011
All around leaves fall
They crunch as I roll along
Cool air fills my lungs.
Posted 5:00 pm
11 Feb 2011
After such a climb,
Gravity becomes my friend.
King of the World, Ma!
Posted 5:21 pm
11 Feb 2011
Up and over hill
Tires whining on asphalt I
fly and speak with gods
Posted 5:38 pm
11 Feb 2011
All around leaves fall,
They crunch as I roll along.
Cool air fills my lungs.
Bitter cold descends.
Despite the ice I ride on,
The journey beckons.
The sun warms cold soil.
I ride past new daffodils,
Sweet smells fill the air.
Warm moist air hangs thick
Downshifting I sprint onward.
The ride is the goal.
Posted 5:41 pm
11 Feb 2011
I apologize for the re-submission, the format was mangled…
Four Haiku in series, intoning the spirit of each season.
**************************
All around leaves fall,
They crunch as I roll along.
Cool air fills my lungs.
************************
Bitter cold descends.
Despite the ice I ride on,
The journey beckons.
************************
The sun warms cold soil.
I ride past new daffodils,
Sweet smells fill the air.
*************************
Warm moist air hangs thick
Downshifting I sprint onward.
The ride is the goal.
Posted 6:09 pm
11 Feb 2011
May I submit more than one please? If not please accept number 1/ as my contribution to your wondrous game.
Thanks
Thom
1/
Silent blossoms fall
obscuring hasty repairs,
Wheels whir softly
or
2/
Winter frost makes
eyes water from gravity’s
acceleration
or
3/
In low and out high,
Back wheel escapes control, that
must be the black ice
or
4/
Legs pumping through rain,
the constriction shows cyclists
can’t wear skinny jeans
I put these on the Facebook page also, but this way you have all my details.
Posted 6:17 pm
11 Feb 2011
Lovely worn saddle
cradles my buttocks concave
toward vanishing point
Posted 6:22 pm
11 Feb 2011
burning lungs hungry
for more road and many miles
go until I sleep
Posted 7:00 pm
11 Feb 2011
A nice Brooks saddle
Will last my butt a life time,
Makes my bike classy.
Posted 7:19 pm
11 Feb 2011
In case you’d not feel comfortable publishing my “butt” :-}
A nice Brooks saddle
Will serve my seat a life time,
Makes my bike classy
Posted 7:38 pm
11 Feb 2011
Tarmac is hot and
Legs are aching. Cross the line,
Last. But arms aloft.
Posted 12:16 am
12 Feb 2011
Here, dissolve yourself
Into this saddle, you’ll have
No complications
Posted 1:22 am
13 Feb 2011
on the path racer
drop down into a deep tuck
must outrun the sun
stop for a late supper
back outside turn on the light
only 100km to go
sunny warm spring day
hibernation is over
i have miles to ride
early morning ride
took right hand corner too fast
here comes the asphalt
Posted 1:58 am
13 Feb 2011
handlebar flower
longs to dance, to reach to fly
shore breeze comes to play
Posted 1:59 am
13 Feb 2011
target just ahead
legs outstretched, eyes closed tight
puddle sprays fender
Posted 2:00 am
13 Feb 2011
Flying down the hill,
Wheels spinning, wind rushing by…
A cat appears…Crash!
Slowly pedaling,
Heart pounding, sweat dripping down,
To…the…sum-mit…Ahhhhh!
Posted 2:01 am
13 Feb 2011
Flying down the hill,
Wheels spinning, wind rushing by…
A cat appears…Crash!
Posted 2:01 am
13 Feb 2011
Slowly pedaling,
Heart pounding, sweat dripping down,
To…the…sum-mit…Ahhhhh!
Posted 4:09 am
13 Feb 2011
squeaky front hub sings
annoying to others
my sweet lullaby
Posted 8:47 am
13 Feb 2011
Pounding, pumping heart
Back down into the saddle
Ragged breath, open road
Posted 9:10 am
13 Feb 2011
Bike straddled
Roads travelled
Comfortable, on my trusty Brooks saddle
Posted 9:15 am
13 Feb 2011
Sorry I sent off my haiku without putting in the title bit, but I am sure you guessed that. I repeat it below just in case…
Bike straddled
Roads travelled
Comfortable, on my trusty Brooks saddle
Posted 9:27 am
13 Feb 2011
It doesn’t say if you are restricted to one entry… here’s another for the chance of winning your super prize
Cogs, wheels, and pedals turn,
Chains thrum,
Tyres hiss,
Miles pass,
Brooks, cakes and tea…
Bliss!
Posted 12:37 pm
13 Feb 2011
In the hands of the maker:
Whether the leather
Or the way it is treated
Hot – cold best seated
Or in the hands of the rider:
Weather the leather
Proofide for a special treat
All year – your shape seat
Posted 3:48 pm
13 Feb 2011
Heart thumping up hill
Eyes streaming on the descent
Brakes not working HELP!!!
Posted 10:25 pm
13 Feb 2011
Winter sun, Crisp frosty hills, Seat,
All rising low,
Comfort the worn Brookes
Posted 12:37 am
14 Feb 2011
Lungs gulp brittle air
Lower gears heavier tyres
The season begins
Posted 12:42 am
14 Feb 2011
Pick a line, no brakes
Relax and look well ahead,
Nail it every time
Posted 12:46 am
14 Feb 2011
Victor’s arms held high
Looser barely hides his pain
Did the best man win?
Posted 2:36 am
14 Feb 2011
Spring breezes, spokes whirl
As bikes whiz by, elated.
A young doe looks on.
Posted 7:22 pm
14 Feb 2011
Riding perfection
warm sun, cool breeze, flawless shifts
Posted 7:22 pm
14 Feb 2011
riding perfection
warm sun, cool breeze, flawless shifts
saddle unnoticed
Posted 10:57 am
15 Feb 2011
Autumn rain falling
a perfect day far from home
no cape, leather saddle
Posted 11:06 am
15 Feb 2011
hot hot day no clouds
sweat dripping saturated clothes
wanting skin against leather
Posted 11:18 am
15 Feb 2011
On top of the hill
waiting for the dropped ones
warm saddle cold toes
Posted 4:07 pm
15 Feb 2011
Live oak acorns crushed
by tires, my saddle is air
cushioning the blows.
Posted 9:24 am
17 Feb 2011
my green Brooks saddle
now blackened from many miles
no regrets, ever
Posted 9:27 am
17 Feb 2011
my brooks saddle well used
the green a blackened memory
no regrets, ever
Posted 7:18 pm
17 Feb 2011
Sun melts lethargy
under a blanket of snow,
ride onward to spring
Posted 7:25 pm
17 Feb 2011
Pace and pulse quicken,
rider and bike become one
well-supported soul
Posted 7:33 pm
17 Feb 2011
Dreams hidden within
a resonant lugged steel frame,
my saddle my throne
Posted 7:40 pm
17 Feb 2011
The road quivering,
or perhaps my heart
ecstasy on wheels
Posted 8:51 pm
17 Feb 2011
Upon a winter’s road
Derailleur
I pick myself up
Posted 9:45 pm
17 Feb 2011
Mist droops tree branches
drops strike me though my helmet
rubber steel leather
Posted 9:46 pm
17 Feb 2011
This morning it rains
I have a saddle cover
but must write haiku
Posted 9:47 pm
17 Feb 2011
For a long distance
I like a leather saddle
It comforts like home
Posted 10:01 pm
17 Feb 2011
Lost among the clouds
thin air and gathering mist
the valley beckons
Posted 10:41 pm
17 Feb 2011
Flying without wings
atop a leather saddle
on rideable art
Posted 7:53 am
18 Feb 2011
No helmet felt good.
I was young, wind in my face
I had more hair then
Posted 7:54 am
18 Feb 2011
The distance makes me
anxious, angry. Thank you
cow, for this saddle.
Posted 7:55 am
18 Feb 2011
Like wool, leather is
natural. Naturally,
it makes me happy.
Posted 7:09 pm
18 Feb 2011
The road quivering,
or perhaps it is my heart
ecstasy on wheels
Posted 7:15 pm
18 Feb 2011
Why leather why wool
on a classic bicycle
because it feels real
Posted 12:22 am
19 Feb 2011
Ease off the rivet
enjoy the beauty of spring
sit back and relax
Posted 9:43 pm
19 Feb 2011
My green brooks saddle
out lasted my marriages
perfect winter ride
Posted 6:23 pm
1 Mar 2011
I struggle uphill,
To get to the Hare and hounds,
shit, chain has come off
Posted 8:26 pm
24 Mar 2011
So hard to the hand
Leather without spring is so
soft to the bottom
Posted 9:06 am
25 Mar 2011
Depression
Oppression
Regretion
No More
I’m Free
Thanks John Boulbee
Posted 10:00 pm
17 Nov 2011
It is just not there.
The autumn leaves have a familiar colour.
Suddenly I realize my Brooks.