Saturday, August 04, 2018

The Haiku Foundation, Haiku Windows, August 2018

A Sense of Place: The Shore - Taste (selected by Kathy Munro August 1, 2018)

a loon and I taste
the evening

The Cherita, May 2018

Issue: "not a memory, exactly"


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


by ribbons
of aurora borealis

we watch
as our world spins
into morning

Stardust Haiku, Issue 19, July 2018

wild swans
the time has come
for me to go

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

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
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
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:

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

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.

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.

Mayfly, Issue 65, Summer 2018

waterfall . . .
we walk through the ghost
of a rainbow

Frameless Sky, Issue 8, June 2018

sea spray
a jagged rock cleaves
this moment

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


Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 3, Issue 32, August 2018

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:

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)

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.

—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

Bottle Rockets, Vol. 20, Number 1 (or #39), August 2018

no worries
blackbirds undulate
at dusk

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