Haiku are described as wordless poems, word pictures, poetry of the noun, breath poetry, etc.  They convey the poet's (haijin's) thoughts and feelings in a handful of words, but they aren't proverbs, run-on sentences, philosophical or religious statements or greeting card type verses.  The three line haiku developed in  17th century Japan from the five line tanka.  The word haiku used to mean "starting verse" of the longer tanka, but now refers to a whole poem.  Matsuo Basho perfected the haiku and is considered the Shakespeare of the form. Today's English language haiku are usually written in three short lines.  Generally speaking, the first and third lines contain one to five syllables, while the second is a few syllables longer.  Titles are absent, punctuation is minimal and there's no obvious  meter or rhyme scheme.  There's also very little descriptive or figurative language, because the focus is on things as they are, in the here and now.  The so-called haiku moment usually comes from the poet's direct experience of the everyday, natural world.  Many haiku contain seasonal and regional references, while those that don't are sometimes called senryu.  Senryu concentrate on human activities, often with a touch of humor or satire.  Both senryu and haiku reveal the universal in the particular, by comparing, contrasting and linking commonplace things or events.  Another important characteristic is the pause, break or cutting word which often occurs at the end of the second line, and juxtaposes the images presented.  It also tends to break the haiku into a long and short breath unit, or a phrase and a fragment.  Haiku should spring from what you see, hear, smell, taste and touch; in other words, what you actually experience rather than how you interpret or imagine the experience.  Try to be aware of everything happening around you, and maintain a non-judgmental, humble and reverent attitude.  Last but not least, don't forget your sense of humor!

April morning ...                                            ladybug

the squirrel pokes its head                             on a blade of grass -

out of the bird house                                     up, down, around

the leaf pile                                                 winter night-

stirs                                                            I keep the telemarketer

resettles                                                      talking