Note:
Honoured to be the Focus Poet for this issue. The full text may be accessed in the "Articles/About" section of this blog.
last campout . . .
sandhill cranes call down
the northern lights
Honourable Mention
2017 Robert Spiess Haiku Award
dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath
1st Place
2016 San Francisco Tanka Competition
stone cairns
a faded cap drifts
downriver
1st Place
2015 Harold G. Henderson Contest
tracks of birds
meander through snow . . .
the surgeon
marks her left breast
with a cross
1st Place
2016 British Haiku Society Tanka Awards
on the tundra
caging a winter sky
caribou bones
3rd Place
2014 Hortensia Anderson Awards
bitterns boom
among the rushes . . .
father recites
his favourite poems
from memory
dust clouds
behind the plough
a fuss of gulls
Sunday, December 03, 2017
The Right Touch of Sun, Tanka Society of America Members' Anthology 2017
this hagstone
I hold to my eye . . .
suddenly,
another world looks
right through me
animal trails
curve through brush . . .
my wild feet
still yearn to follow
someone home
bluegrass blares
from loud speakers . . .
we get high
on night music
under a banjo moon
Note:
I was honoured to provide the following photographs for this anthology:
I hold to my eye . . .
suddenly,
another world looks
right through me
animal trails
curve through brush . . .
my wild feet
still yearn to follow
someone home
bluegrass blares
from loud speakers . . .
we get high
on night music
under a banjo moon
Note:
I was honoured to provide the following photographs for this anthology:
Ribbons, Volume 13, Number 3, Fall 2017
I can hear
clouds rustling against
taffeta skies . . .
my senses sharper
since you went away
Note:
This issue also contains a lovely review of my book, Warp and Weft: Tanka Threads (Michelle Brock, Australia). It may be accessed in the "Books & Reviews" section of this blog.
clouds rustling against
taffeta skies . . .
my senses sharper
since you went away
Note:
This issue also contains a lovely review of my book, Warp and Weft: Tanka Threads (Michelle Brock, Australia). It may be accessed in the "Books & Reviews" section of this blog.
The Cherita, Book 5, September 2017
Issue: "be amazed"
candied violets
every birthday cake
a celebration
of who we were,
and who we are
becoming
at high tide
the call and response
of water
we are made of this,
but we are also,
other
A Cherita Lighthouse Award
candied violets
every birthday cake
a celebration
of who we were,
and who we are
becoming
at high tide
the call and response
of water
we are made of this,
but we are also,
other
A Cherita Lighthouse Award
Skylark, Vol. 5, Number 2, Winter 2017
honeysuckle
swathes my doorway . . .
its sweetness
calls to something hungry
that used to live inside
So Much More Than
we walk
under laden boughs
into silence . . .
a place of worship,
this architrave of snow
we make camp
in a dark sky preserve . . .
no stellarium
could rival
this magnitude of light
we become
so much more than
our wounds
lovely are the bruises
of crushed magnolias
Outcasts
the quiet
susurrus of stones
with each wave . . .
a refugee hushes
her frightened baby
silhouettes
of deer splashing
in puddles . . .
the bullied child
never that carefree
a cowbird
lays eggs in the nest
of her host . . .
too many people
feel they don't belong
swathes my doorway . . .
its sweetness
calls to something hungry
that used to live inside
So Much More Than
we walk
under laden boughs
into silence . . .
a place of worship,
this architrave of snow
we make camp
in a dark sky preserve . . .
no stellarium
could rival
this magnitude of light
we become
so much more than
our wounds
lovely are the bruises
of crushed magnolias
Outcasts
the quiet
susurrus of stones
with each wave . . .
a refugee hushes
her frightened baby
silhouettes
of deer splashing
in puddles . . .
the bullied child
never that carefree
a cowbird
lays eggs in the nest
of her host . . .
too many people
feel they don't belong
Under the Basho, 2017
Personal Best 2017
glassy lake
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
1st Place
Autumn Moon Haiku Contest 2017
Modern Haiku
luna moth
unfolding the hidden
part of you
frayed sunflowers . . .
this is the part where
we say goodbye
the sky ripens . . .
snow stars
decorate your sweater
river stories
we always begin
at the end
the pulse
of oncoming storms . . .
our windows flex
Stand-Alone Hokku
snow flurries
the softened edges
of shadows
morning haze . . .
the bright blue flashes
of kestrels
deep forest
mushroom gills filter
rays of light
glassy lake
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
1st Place
Autumn Moon Haiku Contest 2017
Modern Haiku
luna moth
unfolding the hidden
part of you
frayed sunflowers . . .
this is the part where
we say goodbye
the sky ripens . . .
snow stars
decorate your sweater
river stories
we always begin
at the end
the pulse
of oncoming storms . . .
our windows flex
Stand-Alone Hokku
snow flurries
the softened edges
of shadows
morning haze . . .
the bright blue flashes
of kestrels
deep forest
mushroom gills filter
rays of light
Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, November 2017
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Winning Haiku, Canada
Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational, 2017
petal by petal
we let go
Winning Haiku, Canada
Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational, 2017
Creatrix, Anthology Number 2, 2017
Issues 15 - 35, 2012 - 2016
first crocus
the grey stubble
on his chin
first crocus
the grey stubble
on his chin
Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 39, December 2017
lantern festival
we come together
in the dark
dark days
we learn to sing
in the key of rain
bone density . . .
the broken stems
of sunflowers
spin cycle . . .
newspapers cartwheel
down the street
charred trees
the horizon wider
today
we come together
in the dark
dark days
we learn to sing
in the key of rain
bone density . . .
the broken stems
of sunflowers
spin cycle . . .
newspapers cartwheel
down the street
charred trees
the horizon wider
today
Atlas Poetica, Number 30, November 2017
Luminosity
cloudberries
float above moss stars . . .
amber beacons
in forest shadows
call us to taste the light
the shimmer
of diamonds on snow
and water . . .
sometimes we take
small gifts for granted
mudlarks . . .
everything we buried
as children
surfaces at last
into the light of day
in her eyes
deep wells of pain . . .
and yet,
glimmers of light
at the bottom
cloudberries
float above moss stars . . .
amber beacons
in forest shadows
call us to taste the light
the shimmer
of diamonds on snow
and water . . .
sometimes we take
small gifts for granted
mudlarks . . .
everything we buried
as children
surfaces at last
into the light of day
in her eyes
deep wells of pain . . .
and yet,
glimmers of light
at the bottom
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