Sunday, April 25, 2021

Cattails, April 2021

a fireball
illuminates the dark
life streaks by
before we know
what to make of it

I have learned
how to keep silent . . .
these pebbles
under my tongue
seasoned with rue

candle ice the way you blow hot and cold

frigid weather
a red rose shatters
on impact

Editor's Choice

This haiku took me back to an educational video that I had seen long ago, where a rose shattered after being dipped in liquid nitrogen. A startling observation by Debbie Strange from Canada, where frigid weather is the norm for a good part of the year and the cold freezes the red rose enough to shatter it on impact. The poet uses a powerful and unique image here. On another level, the use of 'red rose' and its various allusions cannot be escaped by the reader. Thank you Debbie Strange, for the many possible readings.
—Geethanjali Rajan


Stardust Haiku, Issue 52, April 2021

the best
saved for last . . .
comet tails

Seashores - An International Journal to Share the Spirit of Haiku, Vol. 6, April 2021

birch grove
the sudden arrow
of a goshawk

craggy bluff
a waterfall ribbons
into sunset

Poetry Pea, April 2021

The Haiku Pea Podcast

Series 4, Episode 8 - "no ego", April 19, 2021

storm hour
the cliff's face carved
a little deeper

3rd Prize, 2020 Irish Haiku Society Int'l Haiku Competition

leaf litter
turkey tail fungus
skirts the pine

The Poetry Pea Journal of Haiku and Senryu, Spring 2021

Editor: Patricia McGuire

"Spring and Autumn Kigo"

the ruts we slip into falling leaves


refuse dump
two black bears slouch
on a stained sofa

"Exaggerated Perspective"

vacant balcony
broken rafters patched
with pigeons

Nick Virgilio Haiku Association, April 2021

Haiku in Action: April 14th - April 20th, 2021, Week 16

the clipped wings
of refugees

(Note: The way we confine our fellow beings.)

Kokako, Number 34, April 2021

eddies of dust
the rooster's comb blends
into sunrise

feather stars
undulating across
the ocean floor . . .
beauty exists even when
we cannot see it

abandoned puppies
tumble from a torn box
there is more
than one way to learn
the art of mothering

Sunday, April 18, 2021

The Haiku Foundation: HaikuLife Film Festival 2021

This haiga video, comprised of previously published poems, was created to celebrate The Haiku Foundation's International Haiku Poetry Day HaikuLife Film Festival on April 17, 2021:

Black Velvet

(with recitation)

The Haiku Foundation: EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration, April 2021

the wild crocuses
you loved

2nd Place, 2019 Morioka 1st Int'l Haiku Contest

fallow fields a light dusting of snow geese

Mariposa 39, 2018
Shortlisted 2018 Touchstone Awards

longer days
I knight my sister
with an icicle

5th HM, 2018 Robert Spiess Memorial Competition

Mariposa, Number 44, Spring/Summer 2021

leaves of grass
and hollow reeds sing
between our lips
we join the insects
orchestrating summer

the intricate lace
of decaying leaves
are we
any less beautiful now
that our youth is gone

This issue includes the results of the 2020 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka:

a raven
believed it could fly
through me
unaware that I am glass,
pretending to be sky

3rd Place Tanka


World Haiku, Number 17, 2021

Translated into Japanese

wild bergamot
a hummingbird's tail
fans the flames

crowberries absorb
the night

marsh reeds
we learn the secret
language of wind

Note: these haiku previously appeared in Akitsu Quarterly

Note: the haiga was printed in black and white


The Cicada's Cry: A Micro-Zine of Haiku Poetry, Spring 2021

a spray of sunlight
across our table

NeverEnding Story, April 2021

Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu:

rosy dawn
our paddles stippled
with petals

Highly Commended
2019 New Zealand Poetry Society International Competition

GUSTS, Number 33, Spring/Summer 2021

Honoured to have a lovely review of my collection, winner of the 2019 Sable Books International Women's Haiku Contest, in this issue. It may be accessed under The Language of Loss: Haiku & Tanka Conversations tab. My gratitude to Joanne Morcom!

my eyesight
not what it once was
but, oh
the way a rainbow blurs
into iridescence

stepping into
this snow-starred night
I take
a breath of something
that might be optimism

prairie drought . . .
the belt-buckle sun
offers no mercy,
every blade of grass
sharp as your tongue


#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 29, April 2021

Daily Haiku: Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, April 2021

My thanks to Charlotte for posting the following work in a special feature on April 11, 2021!

rippling waves
you teach me how
to film the wind

Grand Prix
10th Setouchi-Matsuyama Int'l Photo-Haiku Contest, 2020 

ripening pear the bruises that never heal

#FemkuMag 27
Longlisted for the Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems, 2020

Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, April 2021

Featured Artist: April 13, 2021

Note: this tanka was first published in Bright Stars Tanka Anthology 7, Nov. 2014


Chrysanthemum, Number 29, April 2021

Translated into German


Saturday, April 03, 2021

The Haiku Foundation: The Touchstone Award for Distinguished Books, 2020

I'm honoured that my eBook, Prairie Interludes, has been shortlisted for the 2020 Touchstone Distinguished Books Award. The shortlist is comprised of 17 books selected from 72 nominations. My thanks to the esteemed panelists, and to John Barlow of Snapshot Press!


The British Haiku Society Awards, 2020

Thrilled to receive the following award:

sea pebbles
glistening in the sun
we, too
lose more of ourselves
with every passing wave

Honourable Mention

Judge's comments:

The pattern of surges and calms exhibited worldwide by the Covid-19 pandemic is here witnessed in this modest but productive observation from nature. How like the pebbles we are, in this together, losing millions over time, with each passing wave. The lament is clear but restrained, anchored in the natural world.

—Michael McClintock

(Note: there were 164 entries for this competition)