Friday, October 06, 2017

Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival, Haiku Invitational, 2017

the pink nose
of a feral rabbit . . .

Sakura Award, Canada

transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go

Winning Haiku, Canada

Judges: Angelee Deodhar, DeVar Dahl, and Billie Wilson

(more than 1200 entries)


Transience encloses the world without and within each of us. Because we feel more secure when we have a sense of predictability, we develop a great capacity for denying a simple truth: that nothing stays the same. That can be a challenge, but the gentleness of "petal by petal" reminds us that we'll be just fine.

The Cherita, July 2017

Issue:  "No Sat Nav...No Map...No Regrets"

looking behind

there is no trace
of you

no footfalls
announce your presence,
but when I close my eyes, you come

rest yourself

the time will come
for fightsongs

when jealous gods come courting,
do not be tempted
to lay your body down

in the old dovecote

throaty coos
of pigeons echo

I call out
your name,
for the first and last time

The Cherita, June 2017

Issue:  "Telling a Story:


that last memory
of you

among the berries,
with bees singing
in your hair


I thought
you might be lost

take my hand,
we will walk backward
until we become stars

A Cherita Lighthouse Award

World Haiku Review, August 2017

the weight of light
on bent grass

Hon. Mention
Neo-Classical Haiku Category

high humidity
a snail shoots love darts
at its mate

Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Shintai Category

family dinner
the upside down world
of nuthatches

Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Shintai Category

our shadows mingle
then separate

Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Vanguard Category

Wild Plum, Issue 3:2, Fall & Winter 2017

family circles . . .
a kingfisher stabs
the fat moon

morning frost
every blade of grass
a candle

VerseWrights, 2017

Haiku Sequences (individual poems previously appeared in Brass Bell)


CT scan
will I emerge
a butterfly

folding unfolding the origami of monarch butterflies


we hover around our mother hummingbirds

sunrise sunflower heads dangling a charm of finches

waxwings again not enough berries for jam

winter bird am I the only one who knows your song

The Heron's Nest, Vol. 19, Number 3, September 2017

rain squall
this rigmarole
of umbrellas

The Cicada's Cry, A Micro-Zine of Haiku Poetry, 2017

The Firefly Special

hints of light
in my darkness

Stardust Haiku, Issue 9, September 2017

red kayak . . .
a beluga whale
sings to me

Stardust Haiku, Issue 8, August 2017

snow squall
the roadside cross
without your name

Scryptic - Magazine of Alternative Art, Issue 1.2, September 2017

Ribbons, Volume 13, Number 2, Spring/Summer 2017

on the rooftop
a colony of honeybees . . .
the buzz
among the homeless,
another shelter closing down

NHK World TV, Japan, August 2017

Haiku Masters Online Gallery

Haiku Master of the Week, Video - August 15th

Commentary by Kazuko Nishimura:

In the photo, you can see empty shells abandoned on the beach, yet we can imagine children playing on the beach through the use of the phrase "echoing cries of children". Although the photo seems devoid of life, the haiku adds excitement to the work, filling the audience with the image of a lively summer day. We can also feel nature in the photo, as sand-filled shells allude to waves crashing on the beach. The black frame around the work also seems to add a sense of melancholy, as if it is preparing the audience for the end of summer.

Commentary by Kit Pancoast Nagamura

The delicate ear-shapes of shells half buried in sand works perfectly with the content of the haiku, about the fading echoes of summer. The stillness of the sand, leveled by waves inside the shell hollows, suggests the passing of time, and the possibility that the poem's narrator is referring to summers years gone. Without the photo, the haiku would verge on the simplicity of song lyrics, but combined, the elements are more than the sum of their parts. The words in black, and the photo framed in black (which works visually well with the shell shadows), add a somber note to the work, suggesting a funereal sadness.

(note: NHK holds copyright)

NeverEnding Story, August 2017

Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu

rocky ledge
a wolf with the moon
in its mouth

3rd Place
Irish Haiku Society
7th International Haiku Competition, 2015

Chen-ou Liu's comments:

Combined with the zoom-out technique, the unexpected yet visually powerful last line lifts this imagistic haiku up a notch.

Kokako, Number 27, September 2017

caribou migration here then gone midnight sun

fog hangs in the hollow a nest of owlets

tent city . . .
salamanders scurry
in all directions

Hedgerow Poems, Number 120, Summer 2017

Print Edition

Haigaonline, Vol. 18, Issue 2, Autumn 2017

Water Challenge

Gusts, Number 26, Fall/Winter 2017

among long-eared bats
remind me
of all the secrets
that used to be mine

in the acorn necklaces
we made . . .
even on dark days,
small points of light

minnows flash
through silver shoals
at dusk . . .
you teach me how
to be a mermaid

Gnarled Oak, Issue 13, September 2017

Frogpond, Vol. 40.2, Spring/Summer 2017

A kind mention of my work in the review of Dust Devils by Randy Brooks:

lilac buds
no one notices
the bruises

Haiku Canada Review, Vol. 10, Number 1, February 2016

Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 2, Issue 22, October 2017

Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 2, Issue 21, September 2017

Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 2, Issue 20, August 2017

Dwarf Stars 2017 - The Best Very Short Speculative Poems Published in 2016

our bodies
no more than stardust
we fall
from constellations
and for a moment, shine

Kokako 25, September 2016

Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, September 2017

curling leaves
you turn your face up
to the sun

Hon. Mention
Autumn Haiku Contest, 2015
Japan Information and Culture Centre

Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, August 2017

rusted gate
old lilacs blooming
for no one

Selected Haiku
7th Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum Contest, 2015

Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 38, August 2017

graveyard snow
the call and answer
of chickadees

dandelions . . .
every bee flecked
with light

Brass Bell, October 2017

morning dew
the galaxies between
our toes

the curled ears
of newborns

snow mounds
the growing roundness
of her belly

Brass Bell, September 2017

a fever of migrating stingrays summer graces

glazed pond
a beaver's tail breaks
the hush

in your arms
the sea

Blithe Spirit,, Vol. 27, Number 3, August 2017

sakura . . .
my mouth full of stones
at the news

old vineyard . . .
our shadows ripen
between rows

the merlin's nest,
an ossuary . . .
it all comes
down to this

we lived
above a bake shop
that summer
of bread and tempers
rising through the night

Blithe Spirit, Vol. 27, Number 2, May 2017

dust motes . . .
the worn patches
on his saddle

robinsong . . .
the scent of earth
newly warm

to find myself grown
out of this skin . . .
will you recognize me
each time I am reborn

with the ocean's rhythms
a dolphin
carries me on its back
to my home among stars

Please note that the results of the 2016 British Haiku Society Awards also appear in this issue. Commentaries may be viewed in the British Haiku Society post of April 15, 2017 on this blog.

Tanka Section

tracks of birds
meander through snow . . .
the surgeon
marks her left breast
with a cross

1st Place

to hold the light
of mercury . . .
your memory
slips away


Haiku Section

harsh winter
squirrels gnaw the tines
of shed antlers

Special Mention

Atlas Poetica, Number 29, August 2017

Individual Cherita:

in our courtyard

the dead snag
has silvered with age

we still hear
faint echoes of birds,
but have forgotten how to sing

you lift me up

from this vantage point
I can see

a parallel universe,
in which the only truth
is mercy

Tanka Sequence:


the highway
smothered with ashes . . .
every year,
this debate between
urbanites and farmers

city allotments,
each marked by fencing . . .
when did we start
being afraid of strangers,
being afraid to share

greening . . .
even arctic foxes
build gardens—
with one seed at a time,
could we not feed the world

Individual Tanka:

clouds break
against desert peaks . . .
shards fall
into the open mouths
of thirsty children

this inner darkness,
erases the stains
on my conscience

bullets of crows
on gunmetal nights . . .
a deeper shade
of anguish echoes
in her bones

but cold comfort
in knowing
that the sea you loved
now spirits you away

Asahi Haikuist Network, September 2017

(first appeared in the September 2016 issue)

blues festival
stray dogs howling
at streetlights

Asahi Haikuist Network, August 2017

blazing sun . . .
a goose shields goslings
with her wings

Akitsu Quarterly, Fall 2017

embers flicker among the oaks scarlet tanagers