Rachna Singh, Editor, The Wise Owl talks to Neena Singh about her haiku collection, A Peacock's Cry

Rachna Singh, Editor, The Wise Owl talks to Neena Singh a banker turned poet about her book ‘A Peacock’s Cry-Seasons of Haiku.’ Neena's haiku have won Honorable Mention in Katikati contest 2021 (New Zealand), Sharpening the Green Pencil contest 2021 (Romania), Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival 2022, 6th Basho-an International Haiku Contest 2023 and Vancouver Cherry Blossom Contest 2024, in which her haiku also won the Sakura award. Neena’s 5-7-5 syllabic haiku was selected by Society of Classical Poets among 23 Best haiku of 2023. She won the Haiku Society of America's Second prize in 2021 and Third Place in 2023 for her collaborative rengay composition with Billie Dee.

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Neena is the author of “Whispers of the Soul - The Journey Within” (2016) , and “One Breath Poetry - a journal of haiku, senryu and tanka” (2020) , showcasing her passion for poetry, nature and life. “A Peacock’s Cry - seasons of haiku” is her third book.

 

Thank you Neena for talking with The Wise Owl

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RS: Your latest book A Peacock’s Cry is rooted in the five-season tradition of haiku. What drew you to this classic structure, and how did it shape the emotional and aesthetic flow of your collection?

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NS: The tradition of season word or kigo in haiku originated in the Edo period. The use of season word denotes a sense of place, time and culture. Rob Scott writes, “One of the strengths of Japanese haiku has been its ability to reflect its own culture through the use of kigo…” As Japan experiences four main seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter with rainy season being a part of summer, their haiku are divided into four seasons (lunisolar calendar).  Further Japanese observe 24 seasonal divisions in a year and these are further classified into 72 micro-seasons. The five-season structure—spring, summer, monsoon, autumn, and winter—resonates deeply with the Indian subcontinent’s rhythms and my own internal landscape. I was drawn to this classical framework because it mirrors life’s cyclical nature, with each season holding its own emotional palette. When I thought of publishing this book, Jim Kacian, Founder of The Haiku Foundation, USA advised me to follow the seasonal classification rather than just the timeline of publication. The framework was laid by Dr Pravat Kumar Padhy, esteemed haiku poet and my mentor, who wrote a brilliant essay on “Kigo: The Soul and Splendor of Haiku” for the book on my request.

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RS: The title itself—A Peacock’s Cry—is evocative and steeped in natural imagery. Can you talk about the symbolism of the peacock and how it reflects the themes of the book?

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NS: A peacock is a symbol of beauty, grace and divinity, it is also the National Bird of India. In Hinduism, the bird is associated with Goddess Lakshmi. Peacock calls have reverberated throughout human history, finding their place in literary, cultural and religious contexts. The peacock’s mating cry, heard before a life-giving monsoon shower, is a paradox—both beautiful and melancholic. It captures longing, anticipation, emotional intensity and serene connection with nature. In the book, the peacock becomes a symbol of expressive silence—the kind that haiku embodies. Just as the cry alerts us to an unseen change, each haiku seeks to awaken a hidden truth or a fleeting emotion. The title reflects not only the seasonal changes but also the emotional undercurrents running through the poems.

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rain bath

shedding the dust

a peacock’s cry

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~ The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXXIII, Number 4: December 2021

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RS: Your haiku beautifully capture fleeting moments in nature and daily life. How do your personal practices—like moon gazing, long walks, and travel—influence your poetic vision?

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NS: These practices are the soil in which my haiku grow. Moon-gazing makes me pause with wonder, long walks attune me to the small details of the natural world—blossoming trees, fallen leaves, sweet birdsong, a child’s laughter—and travel allows me to shed routine and observe the world with fresh eyes. Haiku thrives on attentiveness and mindfulness. These habits anchor me in the present and allow the poetic moment to surface naturally, often unbidden, as a kind of inner response to outer beauty or transience.

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the full moon rises in me a high tide

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~ THF, Haiku Dialogue, 9th September 2020

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crossing the border

grass on the other side

the same green

 

~ The Haiku Foundation’s Monthly Kukai, March 2023

 

RS: The book includes haiku published internationally between 2020 and 2024. What was the process of curating this collection like, and how did you decide which haiku belonged in each seasonal section?

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NS: Curating was both an emotional and artistic process. I began writing haiku in 2016 and my book “One Breath Poetry” covered the published haiku till 2019. So I revisited my published haiku from 2020 to June 2024, with fresh eyes, listening to their seasonal and emotional resonance. Some poems clearly belonged to a particular time of year, while others surprised me—revealing a monsoon mood in a summer image, or a winter hush in what seemed like an autumn leaf. I allowed both the natural and emotional climates of the haiku to guide their placement, aiming for a seamless seasonal arc that also reflects the seasons of the soul. Of course the Japanese saijiki which contains the kigo words classified season-wise, sky and elements, animals & plants is the reference resource for us haiku poets. I also took guidance from my haijin friends where I was in doubt.

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RS: There’s a quiet wisdom and soulful resonance in your haiku that makes them feel both personal and universal. How do you balance introspection with accessibility in such a minimalist form?

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NS: Thanks for making such a profound statement. That balance is delicate. I begin from a place of authenticity—what moved me, which moment lingered—and then try to pare it down to its essence. Haiku works best when it offers just enough for the reader to enter and complete the experience. I try not to explain, but to evoke, show not tell. My aim is to offer a door, not a room—to leave space for others to find their own meaning. That’s where the universal can meet the personal.

 

autumn dusk

an old friend’s hand

in mine

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~ The Haiku Foundation, Monthly Kukai, April 2021

 

RS: This is your third book after Whispers of the Soul and One Breath Poetry. How has your haiku practice evolved over the years, and what distinguishes A Peacock’s Cry from your earlier works?

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NS: Over the years, I hope my haiku practice has become more intuitive and better crafted. In ‘Whispers of the Soul’, I was still discovering the form—it was more free verse and some poems which were 17 syllable-focused. “One Breath Poetry” reflected my growing fascination with brevity and the power of a single moment rather than the conventional 5-7-5 haiku and it also included senryu and tanka. “A Peacock’s Cry” marks a deepening as I have selected haiku from over the 600 published in reputed journals worldwide and these have been arranged chronologically and curated season-wise. It is more grounded in seasonal awareness, more attuned to subtle emotion, and more confident in silence. The voice has matured—not louder, but a little quieter and clearer. Now in ELH the emphasis is not on counting syllables but in capturing the ordinary in an extraordinary way.

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Zazen…

a lotus rises

above the mud 

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~ Wales Haiku Journal, Spring 2023

 

RS: The haiku form is often deceptively simple. What are some of the creative or philosophical challenges you face while composing a haiku that truly sings?

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NS: The biggest challenge is restraint. There’s always the temptation to say more, to explain. But haiku demands brevity and humility—trusting the image, trusting the silence around it. Another challenge is remaining present; haiku cannot be forced. Philosophically, I often grapple with impermanence—not just in subject, but in process. Sometimes a moment is lost before it becomes a poem. Accepting that too is part of the practice. Haiku teaches me to listen, to wait, and at times to let go. Haiku are not philosophical but express a moment in time yet these are not merely descriptive but evoke a human connect–this juxtaposition is brought through by the kire or cut, the syntactic break or pause. Reading, composing and practice hone this skill to rejuvenate sublime silence or ma between the juxtaposed images.  

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the bare room

my childhood years

after mother’s death

 

~ Akita International Haiku Network, 15th June 2020

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Thank you Neena, for talking with The Wise Owl about your haiku collection. We wish you the very best in all your creative endeavours.