Sunday, October 14, 2018

Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, October 2018

Featured Artist: October 12, 2018




Note: tanka first published by Red Lights 14.1, January 2018



Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, September 2018

Featured Artist: September 20, 2018





Note: tanka first published by Cattails, April 2018




Cattails, October 2018

smoky wind . . .
snow geese where
the grain was


dementia . . .
all the memories
we wish she had


this prairie
cradles the bones
of my sister . . .
I sing her a song
about magpies and wind


the dark sky
above this mountain
a haven
for orphaned stars,
lost among neon lights





The Haiku Foundation, September 2018

A Sense of Place: Meadow/Field - Sight (selected by Kathy Munro September 19, 2018)


high winds
geese side-slip toward
the stubble field


The Cherita, July 2018

Issue: "i find one cloud"


crowned with sage

my sister waits for me
among the hills

while prairie voles
make nests between
her bones



Stardust Haiku, Issue 21, September 2018

deserted farm . . .
fields of stars ripen
in the cupola


Shamrock Haiku Journal 2012-2018

Number 31, June 2015


a muskrat
sequins of sun ripple
the silence


Number 34, June 2016


shining wind the halt and sway of evergreens


frosted dawn
crows spill across
the horizon


Number 36, February 2017


rangeland
webs of rain connect
the thistles


Number 40, September 2018


peat bog
the spreading fire
of cloudberries


frost settles . . .
many moons dot
the dark field


wild iris
a familiar song
in its throat


Shamrock, Number 40, September 2018

peat bog
the spreading fire
of cloudberries


frost settles . . .
many moons dot
the dark field


wild iris
a familiar song
in its throat


Presence, Number 61, July 2018

each ram's horn nearly thirty pounds of fibonacci


abandoned farm furrows of clouds spilling rain


a bald eagle . . .
burnt branches edged
with snow


this pain
written between the lines
on my brow
you read me tenderly
with your fingertips


One Man's Maple Moon: 66 Selected English-Chinese Bilingual Tanka, Volume 4, 2018

Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu


frazil ice
on a mountain lake
at breakup
the tinkling chimes
signal your departure


A Hundred Gourds, 4:2, March 2015


NeverEnding Story, September 2018

Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu


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

1st Place, Tanka Section, 2016 British Haiku Society Awards


Chen-ou Liu's comments:

excerpted from Caroline Skanne's (Judge) commentary accessed via the British Haiku Society Awards label of this blog...




The Mamba, Issue 6 - African Haiku Network, September 2018

empty well . . .
the steady thrum
of katydids


the fragrance
of dark roast coffee . . .
morning rituals


Modern Haiku, Vol. 49.2, Summer 2018

earthworm
castings
the
raised
shadows
of
my
scars



longer days
I knight my sister
with an icicle

Fifth Honourable Mention
Robert Spiess Memorial Haiku Award Competition for 2018


Judge's Comments:

A sense of delight pervades this haiku. The days are growing longer, but the ice hasn't melted yet. Here two children are playing outside, and one of them "knights" the other, using an icicle like a sword to invest a "knighthood" upon the other. Just as the "longer days" tell us that spring is coming, so too does this poem's playful and imaginative zeal. This poem, as with all good haiku, lets things become what they are, and as readers we join the celebration.

—Michael Dylan Welch



#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Women's Haiku - Issue 4, September 2018

mirror fog I let you see my soft side

our
lost
connection
the
static
of
northern
lights


Kokako, Number 29, September 2018

first snowfall a tumbleweed comes to rest


buffeted
by a nor'easter
our old skiff
shrugs off its moorings
like an apology


the plumage
of Mandarin ducks
we can
only dream of wearing
finery such as this


Hedgerow Poems, Number 124, Summer 2018

Print Edition






Four Hundred and Two Snails, Haiku Society of America Members' Anthology 2018

starflowers
light the woodland . . .
we find our way

Winner (Month of May)
2017 Snapshot Press Haiku Calendar Competition


Haigaonline, Vol. 19, Issue 2, Autumn 2018

The Rock Challenge - Viewing Stones Issue






GUSTS, Number 28, Fall/Winter 2018

autumn winds
invade our trees
day by day
cathedral shadows
surrender to the sun


winter sunset . . .
the ice beneath
our skates
becomes a river
of molten gold


waves lap
gently upon the shores
of my sorrow . . .
she birthed me into water,
as I now deliver her

Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 3, Issue 34, October 2018





Ephemerae, Volume 1B, August 2018

a torn web
the wind carries
father home


desert trail
sun-bleached bones
at the end




Chrysanthemum, Number 24, October 2018

Translated into German






Blithe Spirit, Vol. 28, Number 3, August 2018

snowfire a fox takes shelter in the curl of its tail


sun spider
I centre myself
in its web


the language of loss

the last herd
of grey ghost caribou
nearly extinct
I hold your hand
until you disappear

we offer her
to the warm earth
in a silence
more eloquent than any
language of loss

ghost-light
above the coulee
an antelope
lies down beside
my sister


Stacking Stones: An Anthology of Short Tanka Sequences, August 2018

incarnation

snow falling
across the Sahara
at sunset
you give me pink crystals
of ancient desert roses

in the lee
of this sacred mountain
our breath rises
mingling with clouds
until we fall as snow


wreckage

I tried
to make you fall in love
with the sea
but you were never fond
of heavy weather

amidst the flotsam
and jetsam of this life
we salvage
our brightest memories
before they turn to rust


freefall

we are fledglings
leaping into this world
with open arms
trusting that the sedges
will soften our fall

wood duck hens
remember the place where
they first took flight
home means something
different to us all


spectral

in the space
between wakefulness
and dreaming
my sister sings songs
I have yet to write

my dreamscapes
haunted by green spirals
of aurora
these memories of you
conjured out of light

last night
I dreamt of things
fantastical
this morning, my life
so dull and drear

night after night
this recurring dream
the universe
is telling me something
I do not understand


lightfall

black swans
softening the edges
of my darkness
I gather threads of light
unspooling in their wake

the green curl
of a rolling wave
enfolds me
at this tunnel's end
an amazement of light

long after
my time of drowning
I remember
sea anemones
winnowing the light


Atlas Poetica Special Feature, September 2018

Dream Alchemy


we hold hands
as we fall into sleep,
shared dreams
at the confluence
of our fingertips


Note: Over the course of 42 years of marriage, my husband and I have shared several instances of what we call "mind melds" while we sleep!

Atlas Poetica Special Feature, September 2018

25 Rhyming Kyoka


street dancers
with body-popping pecs
strutting their stuff
like grouse on sunrise treks
luring hens to dusty leks

Atlas Poetica, Number 34, September 2018

cold cases


we avoid
the place in which
they found you
but our thoughts
often take us there

we do not
want to think of you
in this way
but we remember
because we must

(tanka sequence in memory of cousins D and J, murdered five decades apart)