{"id":45463,"date":"2025-04-06T16:48:20","date_gmt":"2025-04-06T20:48:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rachellerogers.com\/dev1\/?p=45463"},"modified":"2026-02-27T20:57:59","modified_gmt":"2026-02-28T01:57:59","slug":"a-haiku-moment","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rachellerogers.com\/dev1\/a-haiku-moment\/","title":{"rendered":"A Haiku Moment"},"content":{"rendered":"
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22<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

August 2025<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n

Poetry
Haiku
Richard Chamberlain<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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A Haiku Moment<\/h1>

by Rachelle Rogers<\/a><\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div>\n\n

Some of you might know that the actor Richard Chamberlain died on Saturday, March 29, at the age of ninety. It was this event, oddly enough, that led me to write this piece.<\/p>\n

First, a short tribute to an enormously gifted actor and remarkable human being. As memorial posts\u00a0scrolling through Facebook all week reminded, it was the TV series Dr. Kildare (1961-1966) that initially made Richard famous.<\/span> It would be pretty safe to say that any female who watched fell more than a little in love with him.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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From The Cleveland Museum of Art<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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My memory of watching Dr. Kildare is more dramatic than most. During my teenage years I had an ongoing difficult relationship with my father. One evening when I was about sixteen, I was watching the episode in which, from what I can remember, Dr. Kildare is engaged to a woman played by Yvette Mimieux, and at the end, she drowns in the ocean and Kildare is seen in tears carrying her lifeless body in his arms walking across the sand. Me being me, I was sobbing. My father being my father laughed at me, saying \u201cYou\u2019re crying like that over a stupid television show,\u201d at which point I reactively turned to him in hysterical tears, told him to \u201cdrop dead,\u201d and stormed from the room. I did not mean to say that. I would never have said that in my right mind. The outcome, however, was that my father never let me forget<\/em> that I did say it. For years, he\u2019d bring it up in our verbal battles. And so, in that strange way, there was no forgetting Richard Chamberlain, and I followed his career through the decades.<\/p>\n

In 1980, there was Richard\u2019s amazing performance in the TV mini-series Shogun<\/em>, a calculated risk to put on television at that time with more than 70% in Japanese with subtitles. The risk, however, earned accolades on every front. And, of course, there was Richard\u2019s brilliant and heart-wrenching performance as Father Ralph de Bricassart in The Thornbirds<\/em> mini-series in 1983.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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From The Cleveland Museum of Art<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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After that there were an impressive number of films, and also live theater on Broadway. Some of Richard\u2019s most memorable performances for me include these: His Hamlet<\/em>, which I saw when it was filmed in London and presented on the Hallmark Hall of Fame in 1970. Richard received rave reviews as the first American actor to play Hamlet on the British stage since John Barrymore's performance in 1925.<\/p>\n

There was also the superbly entertaining British film The Slipper and the Rose<\/em> (1976), a musical version of the Cinderella story, featuring a cast of consummate British actors, and a totally engaging Richard who sings and dances.<\/p>\n

On the other end of the spectrum there was the haunting, surreal Australian film The Last Wave<\/em> directed by Peter Weir in which Richard plays a white lawyer whose seemingly normal life is disrupted after he takes on a murder case and discovers that he shares a strange, mystical connection with the small group of local Aboriginal people accused of the crime. It was an intense, multi-leveled, interdimensional story, and I often wondered how Richard felt making that film.<\/p>\n

And then there was the time I was in New York City with a friend in 1987 and saw that Richard was starring with Blythe Danner in Blithe Spirit<\/em>. It was an unexpected surprise, and the first and only time I saw him live onstage. I found myself uncharacteristically standing outside the stage door, watching Richard, testing his atmosphere. Wet hair, shining smile, he patiently stood by the limousine door accepting flowers and signing autographs.<\/p>\n

Being a lover of film and theater, I\u2019m always interested in who performers I admire are off stage, as people. I\u2019m not much impressed by celebrity, but I am impressed by artistry, and humanity. I knew that Richard was a painter, and I was familiar with some of his art, and a singer, and an author. His memoir Shattered Love<\/em> was published in 2003 when he was almost seventy. Over the years, I watched later interviews where he talked more freely about his personal life, spirituality, and a lot about big L Love, the Love that we are<\/em>. He often teared up when he did so. So did I.<\/p>\n

Upon his death, Martin Rabbett, his partner of thirty years, offered this beautiful tribute: Our beloved Richard is with the angels now.\u00a0He is free and soaring to those loved ones before us. How blessed were we to have known such an amazing and loving soul.\u00a0Love never dies. And our love is under his wings lifting him to his next great adventure.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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As I was reading and listening to memorials, I discovered someone I had not known\u2014Richard, the poet. In 2012 he had published a book called MY LIFE IN HAIKU<\/em> that also contained some of his paintings. I ordered it on Amazon. It was a POD book, and when I received it, I noticed that it had been printed on what would have been his ninety-first birthday\u20143\/31\/2025.<\/p>\n

I spent several days perusing his words. The offerings were intimate, insightful, surprising, humorous, thought provoking, and authentically Richard. Here are a few:<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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LET\u2019S TRAIN THE MACHO
TO CHAMPION TENDERNESS
WHICH TAKES TALL COURAGE<\/p>\n

*\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n

HOW GRAND IT WOULD BE
TO DEPART FROM HISTORY
AND BE ALWAYS NEW<\/p>\n

*\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n

FIGURE THIS ONE OUT
THERE ARE THOSE AMONG US
WHO ARE NOT AMONG US<\/p>\n

*\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n

DARK FEARS AND REGRETS
EVEN OUR BLACKEST BLUNDERS
CAN\u2019T SCARE LOVE AWAY<\/p>\n

*\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 *<\/p>\n

WITHIN CONSCIOUSNESS
WE ARE TINY DROPS OF ME
SEEING ME IN YOU<\/p>\n

(from MY LIFE IN HAIKU <\/em>by Richard Chamberlain)<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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From The Cleveland Museum of Art<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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By the end of the week, I found myself inspired to try writing some haiku of my own. This might seem like an understandable unfolding for someone who once called herself a poet, but for me, it was a shaky business. I haven\u2019t been able to write a single word of poetry since 2013. The last poem I wrote was part of my memoir, Rare Atmosphere: An Extraordinary Inter-dimensional Affair of the Heart<\/em><\/a>. In the memoir I said:<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026I knew the poem I had written weeks before, in anticipation of our meeting would be the last. I didn't think my heart could muster another line.\u201d<\/p>\n

And it seemed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, because, for twelve years afterwards, I couldn\u2019t muster another line. This is the last poem from the memoir. It was in French, and I\u2019ve added the translation:<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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Parce Que<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

tu est mon soleil,
<\/em>l'etoile qui chuchote\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n

fait un voeu, mon inspiration,
<\/em>mon propre c\u0153ur, <\/em><\/p>\n

je vois
<\/em>ma destin\u00e9e avec toi.<\/em><\/p>\n

Peut-\u00eatre suis-je dans
<\/em>une grande illusion? Mais\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n

Non! Je n'y penserai pas.<\/em><\/p>\n

J'ai r\u00eav\u00e9 notre amour
<\/em>si clair, si vrai,<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0je sais
<\/em>que les cieux d\u00e9j\u00e0 se r\u00e9jouissent<\/em>.<\/p>\n

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Because<\/strong><\/p>\n

you are my sun,
the star I wish upon\u2014<\/p>\n

my inspiration,
my own heart<\/p>\n

I see
my destiny with you.<\/p>\n

Perhaps this is
a grand illusion. But\u2014<\/p>\n

No! I\u2019m not going there.<\/p>\n

I have dreamed our love
so clear, so true<\/p>\n

I know
the heavens are already rejoicing.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

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As for haiku, I\u2019ve only ever written two that I can remember. One time was at the writers workshop and retreat in the NC mountains that I went to for nine summers. One evening a few of us met up in someone\u2019s room, as we often did, and somehow we got into writing Sci Fi Erotica Haiku. My contribution:<\/p>\n

transporter moment
<\/em>shudders Spock hard against
<\/em>wild Excorgian borg<\/em><\/p>\n

Not exactly something to be proud of.<\/p>\n

I found one other haiku poem in an old file. I don\u2019t remember when or where I wrote it. The file was dated 2006, but I think it might have been written closer to 9\/11.<\/p>\n

and still from the singe
<\/em>of seeming devastation
<\/em>new vision rises<\/em><\/p>\n

So when this new poetic inspiration arose in me, I was both delighted and more than a little unsure. Why was I going to try to write haiku as my first poems after twelve years? I\u2019d never seriously written haiku, which, although very short, can be challenging. But I liked the idea of using the form in the more contemporary way that Richard did, in an authentic and personal voice. Maybe it can ease me into longer, deeper poetic explorations. Who knows? For now it feels liberating to be expressing in small bursts. Remember, these are my first attempts. Be gentle.<\/p>\n

poetry died
inside me, discovering yours
lured my Muses home<\/p>\n

*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll start small only
seventeen syllables to
tickle the mind<\/p>\n

*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

I never belonged
no earth within this birth chart
there, is the wonder<\/p>\n

*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

not gentle mountains
these exalted auspicious
they teach me valor<\/p>\n

*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

as I glean wisdom
the body loses its mind
it\u2019s a mystery<\/p>\n

*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve wondered lately
are my words more real than life
and what if they are<\/p>\n

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Thank you, Richard.\u00a0<\/p>\n

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