Bad American haiku will spur recognition of these rules almost immediately:

“twilight • always forgets • to turn on the light” - @CoyoteSings

You've only got 8 words, why are 2 of them almost the same? I must be in saṃsāra just to be exposed to verse like this. Nothing against free verse, of course, one of my favorite haiku is

淋しい寝る本が無い

which is such a simple lament, and yet complex.

Let's let the Internet be our renga circle.

Well repetition can be good too. It can work for haiku if it echoes the repetition of things, or the repetition of perception:

あけぼのや白魚白きこと一寸

dawn:
whitefish
one inch of white

By contrast, in the case of Twilight guy, you don’t perceive twilight twice, nor does twilight repeats; the two lights are purely an artifical artifact of expression.

In true haikai-circle fashion, then, let's improve the twilight poem. How would you do it?

I don't think it's a total loss - I like the observation that there often comes a time in the evening when one realizes that it's gotten too dark to do anything, and that one should have turned on a light about a half hour ago.

But I do agree that, linguistic artifact or not, the repetition of "light" weakens the poem considerably. But would changing the phrase to "to flip the switch" be clear enough?

Maybe the problem is not with the second "light" but the first. Personifying twilight like this may be too cute by half anyway. But "evening" doesn't seem specific enough.

Any suggestions? In the spirit of jazz, how about "crepuscule"?

I arbitrarily decided to try to keep the repetition in:

someone
forgot the lights on—
twilight

Now I don’t think this is a great haiku, but I propose it’s truer to haiku form. It changes the language from an abstract generalized statement to a specific moment in time. It gets rid of the cutesy obvious personifying, and of the cutesy obvious end-verse rhyme—but they’re still there, only subtler. The haiku is ambiguous and there a number of different possible interpretations (which I find appropriate given the theme):

1. The subject notices that someone left the lights on; outside, it’s twilight. The simplest, most concrete and “haiku” reading; a plain juxtaposition of images that ressonate with each other.
2. The subject thinks someone left the lights on, but on second look realizes it was just twilight. This one is not about twilight but about the “little surprise”, about that sudden change in perception.
3. Like 2, but the subject goes on and anthropomorphizes—“Hey, who was it who left the lights on? Oh, twilight did (wink wink).” Same meaning as the original haiku, but now the repetition of language expresses a reconfiguration of perception.

(I wonder if haijin would argue like this at all? I’m more of a music theorist than a sax player…)

<del>4. I want to watch the newest Twilight flick and these goddamn philistines left the lights on, runing the ambiance</del>

>>I don't think it's a total loss - I like the observation that there often comes a time in the evening when one realizes that it's gotten too dark to do anything, and that one should have turned on a light about a half hour ago.

I like that. I wonder if more could be made of the original along those lines?

Twilight--could it be
on purpose? Or do I always
just forget the lamp?

Suggestions from the circle?

How's this?:

Twilight - azure glow.
Reaching to it I stub a toe.
Where's the damn light switch?

rdb

More dead bugs!
Forgot to turn off the lights
when she got home.

I don't think that's very good, but I would like to have a poem about how some mornings I go out my front door and notice that the light is still on because I forgot to turn it off when my wife got home and as a result the big black blob collecting inside the light fixture from all the little flies that come in and die during the night has gotten a little bit bigger.

It's a very particular feeling which I have had many mornings, and it probably deserves a poem. (One problem with this poem is that it's clearly focused on how her return so distracted me that I forgot about the light. That's a good feeling too, but not the one I want in a poem.)

Maybe this is a waka?

Left the house this morning
Cursing my forgetfulness.
"How many more died last night
Because I left the porch light on
When she got home?"

No. Even if I did all the syllable count stuff, this is a haiku—it's a moment in time which is also all moments in time. Waka are either abstract or specific. Haiku is both abstract and specific.

I think the sentiment is an Issa haiku.

I’m so sorry, flies,
that I left the lights on
again!
autumn chill.

Leonardo, I'd edit that first one to:

someone
forgot the lights again—
twilight

---L.