A Sense of Place: The Shore - Taste (selected by Kathy Munro August 1, 2018)
solitude
a loon and I taste
the evening
Saturday, August 04, 2018
The Cherita, Book 14, May 2018
Issue: "not a memory, exactly"
windswept
prairie grasses
entice me to dance
with open arms,
I twirl until the earth
and sky are one
this bizen cup
stained with ash
and memory
my sister
speaks to me
from somewhere beyond
ensorcelled
by ribbons
of aurora borealis
we watch
as our world spins
into morning
windswept
prairie grasses
entice me to dance
with open arms,
I twirl until the earth
and sky are one
this bizen cup
stained with ash
and memory
my sister
speaks to me
from somewhere beyond
ensorcelled
by ribbons
of aurora borealis
we watch
as our world spins
into morning
Ribbons, Volume 14, Number 2, Spring/Summer 2018
The Calligraphy of Clouds
father reads
the horizon like Braille
each cloud
another augury
of his reckoning
the thunder
of round-bellied clouds
giving birth
too little, too late
for rattleboned fields
blue sky
and the calligraphy
of clouds
my sister waves a wand
of unripened barley
father reads
the horizon like Braille
each cloud
another augury
of his reckoning
the thunder
of round-bellied clouds
giving birth
too little, too late
for rattleboned fields
blue sky
and the calligraphy
of clouds
my sister waves a wand
of unripened barley
Red Lights, Vol. 14, Number 2, June 2018
falling snow
douses autumn's fire
we lie down
among the ruins,
rekindling this flame
what we make of it
we maunder
down memory lane
immersed
in our shared story
so different, yet the same
I offer
a lacework of clear ice
to the sun
winter trickles between
my fingers into spring
small suns
of wild chamomile
embroider
our patchwork fields
with the scent of light
a necklace
of sea foam traces
the bay's curve
I pine for this amity
between earth and water
even scars
from avalanches heal
how then
to mend these ragged
edges of my past
douses autumn's fire
we lie down
among the ruins,
rekindling this flame
what we make of it
we maunder
down memory lane
immersed
in our shared story
so different, yet the same
I offer
a lacework of clear ice
to the sun
winter trickles between
my fingers into spring
small suns
of wild chamomile
embroider
our patchwork fields
with the scent of light
a necklace
of sea foam traces
the bay's curve
I pine for this amity
between earth and water
even scars
from avalanches heal
how then
to mend these ragged
edges of my past
Friday, August 03, 2018
Prune Juice, Issue 25, July 2018
Short-Listed for the 2018 H. Gene Murtha Senryu Contest:
bagpipers
just far enough away
to move me
Folded Word, August 2018
the sunset
unravels its cloak
across sky . . .
I wait for deepest night
to drink my fill of stars
unravels its cloak
across sky . . .
I wait for deepest night
to drink my fill of stars
Prairie Fire - A Canadian Magazine of New Writing, Vol. 39, No. 2, Summer 2018
Celebrating 40 Years
Taking the Pulse of Winter
(solo rengay)
a large day . . .
the prairie fills
with sky
curled in the toe of my boot
a barn kitten
hoar frost . . .
a barbed wire fence
snags the sun
snowdrifts . . .
the cattle flank-deep
in stars
the silver flash of our blades
frozen slough
northern lights . . .
an old windmill stirs
up the night
NeverEnding Story, July 2018
Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu
morning star
water droplets glint
on crane feathers
141st World Haiku Association Haiga Contest, April 2016
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
The contrast of lights (star light vs. reflected light from the sun) between the two parts of this imagistic haiku is visually and emotionally effective.
morning star
water droplets glint
on crane feathers
141st World Haiku Association Haiga Contest, April 2016
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
The contrast of lights (star light vs. reflected light from the sun) between the two parts of this imagistic haiku is visually and emotionally effective.
Poetic Musings
glassy lake
flocks of snow geese
pull up the moon
First Place
2017 Autumn Moon Haiku Contest
Commentary by the judge, Bruce Ross:
Many haiku have been written about the effect of moonlight and the moon's reflection. This haiku is unique and highly poetic in its expression.
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
And the later-added photo successfully turns the haiku into an effective haiga not only heightening the visual focus of the haiku but also lacing itself into the reader's imagination.
Frameless Sky, Issue 8, June 2018
sea spray
a jagged rock cleaves
this moment
backpacking
the bits of ourselves
we leave behind
a jagged rock cleaves
this moment
backpacking
the bits of ourselves
we leave behind
Mad About Cherita Contest
come quickly
the dandelion clocks
are running out of time
if we can make
a few more wishes,
father might come home
Honourable Mention
Judge's Comments:
Loss is very much a part of our lives whether it is by separation or with death. How we choose to deal with the void can help us mend our fractured world and make it right even if it is only for a few hours or a day. Debbie's cherita does just that. It instils us with hope and a belief that anything is possible when one comes from a place of love and remembrance.
—ai li
#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Women's Haiku - Issue 2, July 2018
forget-me-nots some days I don't know who I am
sisterhood
our
changing
bodies
of
memories
sisterhood
our
changing
bodies
of
memories
Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 3, Issue 31, July 2018
Haiga Issue: curated by Lori Minor and Chase Gagnon
Short-Listed for the 2018 H. Gene Murtha Senryu Contest:
bagpipers
just far enough away
to move me
Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, July 2018
last campout . . .
sandhill cranes call down
the northern lights
Honourable Mention
Robert Spiess Haiku Award, 2017
homecoming . . .
a bouquet of sky
in an old jar
First Place
Australian Haiku Society Haiga Kukai, 2017
sand dollars
the currency of tides
in my pocket
Cattails, May 2014
also published in the haiku collection, A Year Unfolding, (Folded Word 2017)
sandhill cranes call down
the northern lights
Honourable Mention
Robert Spiess Haiku Award, 2017
homecoming . . .
a bouquet of sky
in an old jar
First Place
Australian Haiku Society Haiga Kukai, 2017
sand dollars
the currency of tides
in my pocket
Cattails, May 2014
also published in the haiku collection, A Year Unfolding, (Folded Word 2017)
Colorado Boulevard Poetry Corner, July 2018
Theme: Oceans of Our Lives
Listen to the ocean's roar in our Poetry Corner today. Now in Europe, we come to the Atlantic, the ocean of my childhood, from the Pacific, where home is in California. In traveling, our view is expanded. In the small shells of each of our lives, all the oceans are contained; the past and future of all living things in concert with these waves. On July 6, 2018 I was able to present to an appreciative musical audience at our beachside Atlantic Sunset poetry program in Portugal (at the ANIMUSIC conference), the first place tanka in the Sanford Goldstein International Contest of the Tanka Society of America:
the ocean
was in a rage last night
but today,
these peace offerings
of blue mussels and kelp
Debbie Strange, Canada
We are alone and together with our gifts. Poets receiving and giving the gifts of nature, their muse.
Listen to the ocean's roar in our Poetry Corner today. Now in Europe, we come to the Atlantic, the ocean of my childhood, from the Pacific, where home is in California. In traveling, our view is expanded. In the small shells of each of our lives, all the oceans are contained; the past and future of all living things in concert with these waves. On July 6, 2018 I was able to present to an appreciative musical audience at our beachside Atlantic Sunset poetry program in Portugal (at the ANIMUSIC conference), the first place tanka in the Sanford Goldstein International Contest of the Tanka Society of America:
the ocean
was in a rage last night
but today,
these peace offerings
of blue mussels and kelp
Debbie Strange, Canada
We are alone and together with our gifts. Poets receiving and giving the gifts of nature, their muse.
—Kathabela Wilson
Incense Dreams, Issue 2.2 - Birth, Rebirth, Awakening, June 2018
Cha No Keburi - Italian Blog of Haiku, Senryu and Short Poetry
Translated by Lucia Fontana
candle ice . . .
we learn to let go
of the past
new year's dawn
the calligraphy of frost
on our windows
awakening . . .
buds on a rose I thought
was dead
our silver anniversary . . .
night-blooming cacti
light the desert
Atlas Poetica, Number 33, July 2018
our canoe
noses through mist . . .
a new day
opens before us
into possibility
an old dory
grounded on a sandbar,
its faded flag
the listless reminder
of my pirate dreams
a yellow leaf
lets go of the tree . . .
she held on
long past the time
for surrender
ancient graves
sink into marshland . . .
the long bones
of our ancestors
wandering, still
noses through mist . . .
a new day
opens before us
into possibility
an old dory
grounded on a sandbar,
its faded flag
the listless reminder
of my pirate dreams
a yellow leaf
lets go of the tree . . .
she held on
long past the time
for surrender
ancient graves
sink into marshland . . .
the long bones
of our ancestors
wandering, still
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