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Decade of Joy – Retrospective by Debbie Strange
To celebrate my ten years of publishing (after a lifetime of writing!), Rohini Gupta kindly invited me to share a haiga retrospective of my journey along the haiku path. For this initiative, I’ve created ten new haiga incorporating images from my abstract photography exhibition, The Poetry of Light. Though the subjects of these photographs are ordinary (fabric, jewellery, glass), they are transformed into dreamscapes by employing diffusion and shallow depth-of-field techniques. These blurred pictures represent my ongoing struggles with vision, and they have not been digitally manipulated. They also showcase the use of colour therapy in my daily art practice, which increases endorphin production, helping to mitigate the effects of chronic illness. The artworks fall into the non-representational tangential haiga category. For further information on the six recognized categories of haiga, please see: https://www.gendaihaiku.com/kacian/haiga.html
2014
caging a winter sky
caribou bones
3rd Place, 2nd Annual “aha” Awards, 2014
This is one of my earliest published haiku, so it holds a special place in my heart. We have two ecotypes of woodland caribou in Manitoba, and the boreal woodland caribou is a threatened species.
2015
a faded cap drifts
downriver
1st Place, Harold G. Henderson Awards, 2015
On one of our adventures in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, we discovered many cairns along the Athabasca River, with notes imploring hikers and canoeists to be on the lookout for a young man who had slipped over the waterfall and perished.
2016
the sound of rabbits
nibbling night
Grand Prize, World Haiku Competition, 2016
I used to have a huge perennial flower garden, and keeping rabbits at bay could be a chore. When I discovered a nest of five baby cottontails in the leaf mulch under my rose bushes, I could hardly be angry at their mother!
2017
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
1st Place, Autumn Moon Haiku Contest, 2017
This sketch-from-life haiku evokes fond memories. We were camped beside a lake in mid-autumn. A huge harvest moon was on the rise, accompanied by the soft calls of snow geese overhead. Their loose skeins gave the appearance of reins, pulling the moon out of the water.
2018
frozen trough
I cup the warm breath
of my horse
1st Place, Sharpening the Green Pencil Haiku Contest, 2018
“Rival” is a special Percheron draft horse in my life, whose charcoal gray coat is spattered with white stars. He is powerful, yet gentle, and when he snuffles his warm breath against me, I feel at peace with the world.
2019
alpenglow
a pika gathers stems
of light
Commended, Little Iris Haiku Contest, 2019
We’ve only had the good fortune of seeing a wild pika once, but what an experience it was! The light was turning the mountains to rose-gold, when we heard a squeak coming from behind some rocks. A little “rock rabbit” appeared, with a mouth full of backlit plant stems to add to its “haystack” of food.
2020
prairie town
rusted rails lead us
into sunrise
Museum of Haiku Literature Award, Blithe Spirit, Volume 30, Number 2, 2020
As anyone who has lived in a small prairie town will tell you, walking on the rails is almost a rite of passage! There is something compelling about the way they beckon you into the distance, sparking imagination as to what might be ahead.
2021
fireflies the synchronicity of it all
1st Place, Irish Haiku Society International Haiku Competition, 2021
Whilst lingering around our campfire, mesmerized by bright sparks illuminating the dark night, we noticed that not all of them were born of the flames. It was a wonderful experience to feel part of something so magical.
2022
skinny-dipping the moon snail’s umbilicus
Runner-up, The David Cobb Haiku Award, 2022
Summers spent at the cottage with my sisters were happy times filled with love and laughter. One night while my mother kept watch, we girls frolicked in the moonlit water, naked as mermaids. We had to beat a hasty retreat, though, when we saw the lanterns of night fishermen winking at us!
2023
drifting sands
sometimes the poem
writes itself
Winner, Drifting Sands Wearable Art and Haiku Contest, 2023
One of my favourite things to do when we are beachcombing is to write words and poems in the sand. I decorate them with leaves, feathers, stones, and shells, hoping that someone will find these little offerings before the tide rises.
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