Translated into Japanese
bag lady
a halo of pigeons
circling her head
garden rookery
the sycamore fills
with shadows
laden branches
chickadees displaces
a thousand stars
Note: these haiku previously appeared in Geppo
Wednesday, April 15, 2026
Turf Cottage: Haiku and Senryu from the pages of Tsuri-Doro, 2026
Honoured to have the following work selected by the editor, Tony Pupello, for inclusion in the 2026 anthology!
banshee fog
a barn owl summons
the night
new-fallen snow
the traces of things
unseen
Prune Juice, Issue 48, April 2026
theremin
hands that know the shape
of sound
fidget spinner whirlygigging into ataraxia
Presence, Number 84, March 2026
hand-to-mouth
nothing for the sun to eat
except snow
a sea lion
lolling on the rocks . . .
dad's snore strips
off-grid cabin
bog beacon fungus
lights up the duff
arctic tundra
scoured by easterlies
once again
the caribou herd finds
another patch of lichen
Our Best Haiga: Black and White Haiga/Haisha, April 2026
Curated by Lavana Kray
April 9, 2026: "onion" feature (included among Selected Best/Onion for April)
(note: this haiku first appeared in Akitsu Quarterly, Summer 2018)
Noon: Journal of the Short Poem, Issue 28, March 2026
glacial flour the braided river unbraids
crepuscular\rays\backslashing\into\sky\code
NeverEnding Story: Biting NOT Barking Series, March 2026
Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu:
refugee train
small hands starfished
against the glass
1st Place, 2024 Triveni Awards
Chen-ou Liu's Comments:
The haiku places a heavy, geopolitical subject ("refugee train," L1) against a fragile, personal one ("small hands," L2). this contrast—the massive, moving machine versus the stationary, tiny hands—is a classic haiku technique for creating depth.
The verb, "starfished," is the emotional anchor of the haiku. It creates a stark, physical image of small fingers spread wide, suggesting vulnerability, a search for stability, or a desperate attempt to connect with the world passing by.
And the glass in L3 acts effectively as both a literal and figurative barrier. It highlights the "othering" of the refugee experience—the children are visible to the world, yet physically separated from safety or a permanent home.
Leaf Journal, Issue 9, April 2026
lacking agency : autumn leaves in the wind
homestead
the icicles taller
than we were
liquid sunshine
a prairie rainbow
in the making
Thrilled to have the following haiga selected for commentary by haiga editor, Ron Moss!
Commentary:
I have had the pleasure of seeing many of Debbie Strange's creative haiga and "tree resin" is another gem. The stunning autumn shades of the leaf and surrounds are delightful to the eye. The clever link of a honeybee's wings to the flat leaf is easily connected and gives the haiga a complete feeling and resonance. The gold frame and tasteful signature on the side captures all the elements in a lovely design.
Haiku Canada Review, Volume 20, Number 1, February 2026
wheelchair ramp
the mountain continues
to grow
lynx and hare
mother's doctor cuts
to the chase
First Frost, #11, Spring 2026
the foxtails
sweep off your grave . . .
chinook wind
wet footprints
a map
on the cabin floor
#FemkuMag, Issue 41, Spring 2026
My thanks to guest editor, Vandana Parashar, for inclusion in this International Women's Month issue!
hurkle-durkle
it's been that kind
of morning
genocide
flags of olive leaves
at half-mast
Enchanted Garden Haiku Journal, Issue 15, Emerald, April 2026
Translated into Romanian
the moss
on an angel's wing . . .
vespers
Thrilled to receive an Editor's Choice for the following haiga!
Commentary by the editor, Steliana Voicu:
What a lovely effect of the leaves, and the picture seems to be imprinted with movement. The leaves may suggest the movement of the special tea brush for a tea ceremony. For me, matcha has a strong, intense flavor - this tea doesn't leave you indifferent. The tea moment is calm and tranquil - it smells like spring, it tastes like spring. This haiga is so vibrant and savoury. Thank you for enchanting us, dear Debbie!
Akitsu Quarterly, Spring/Summer 2026
first robins
the pillar-to-post
of their songs
bird's nest fungi
the eggs that wait
for rain
sun showers
one cloud pinned
to the clothesline
The Abstractaphy Initiative: aBstractaphy-from the palETTE, journalette 10 - March 28, 2026
Curated by Tish Davis
(note: this haiga first appeared in Haigaonline, Volume 21, #2, August 2020)
The Abstractaphy Initiative, March 2026
Curated by Richard Grahn
(note: this haiga first appeared in black and white in World Haiku, #17, 2021)
(note: this haiga first appeared in Haigaonline, Volume 21, #2, August 2020)
(note: this haiga first appeared in Prune Juice, Issue 41, December 2023)
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