heirloom hollyhocks
I still see father kneeling
in a patch of light
Friday, April 05, 2019
The Haiku Foundation, March 2019
Haiku Music Challenge Number 7 - March 4, 2019
The Haiku Foundation chose three of their favourite compositions from the Naviar Records Haiku Music Challenge for the following poem:
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Best Haiku, Canada
2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
The Haiku Foundation chose three of their favourite compositions from the Naviar Records Haiku Music Challenge for the following poem:
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Best Haiku, Canada
2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
The Cicada's Cry: A Micro-Zine of Haiku Poetry, Winter 2018
silent night
the first tick of snow
against our tent
the first tick of snow
against our tent
The Cherita, Book 22, January 2019
Issue: "whisper me free"
snow-lit grove
with chickadees perched
on our palms
you kiss me
softly on my forehead
like a blessing
equinox
otters chirp
to each other in passing
even the smallest
moments of grace
sustain me
deserted beach
a tangled fort
of burnished driftwood
empty now,
except for shadows
and possibilities
I cast the runes
in search of something
indefinable
they tell me
I must learn to make
my own magic
A Cherita Lighthouse Award
snow-lit grove
with chickadees perched
on our palms
you kiss me
softly on my forehead
like a blessing
equinox
otters chirp
to each other in passing
even the smallest
moments of grace
sustain me
deserted beach
a tangled fort
of burnished driftwood
empty now,
except for shadows
and possibilities
I cast the runes
in search of something
indefinable
they tell me
I must learn to make
my own magic
A Cherita Lighthouse Award
The Cherita, Book 20, November 2018
Issue: "snow ghosts" (honoured to have this title taken from my cherita)
snow ghosts
shape-shifting
across the tundra
we reveal ourselves
to each other
a little at a time
snow ghosts
shape-shifting
across the tundra
we reveal ourselves
to each other
a little at a time
The Bamboo Hut, Spring 2019
fog settles eventually all things become nothing
morning chill
two ladybirds trimmed
with pearls
the blue hour . . .
you slipped away
without a sound
a lodestar
glistens above
our bow
we follow the light
into breaking dawn
grief rides my back
like a cowboy
on a rank horse
spurs dug deep
into the flanks
of memory
morning chill
two ladybirds trimmed
with pearls
the blue hour . . .
you slipped away
without a sound
a lodestar
glistens above
our bow
we follow the light
into breaking dawn
grief rides my back
like a cowboy
on a rank horse
spurs dug deep
into the flanks
of memory
Seashores - An International Journal to Share the Spirit of Haiku, Vol. 2, April 2019
bioluminescence
I skip a pebble across
the universe
I skip a pebble across
the universe
Ribbons, Volume 15, Number 1, Winter 2019
the winter of my life
ice-bound,
a mosaic of leaves
suspended
between seasons
like frayed memories
I skate backward
through the rag-ends
of childhood,
a warm potato
in each mitten
ice-bound,
a mosaic of leaves
suspended
between seasons
like frayed memories
I skate backward
through the rag-ends
of childhood,
a warm potato
in each mitten
My thanks to Pamela Babusci who mentioned the following poem in her Tanka Journey feature in this issue:
a halo around
the long night moon . . .
I find
another strand
of mother's light
Winner
10th Annual Moonbathing Contest
A Hole in the Light: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2018
a wasp nest
unwinds in the wind . . .
letters from home
Presence, Number 62, November 2018
unwinds in the wind . . .
letters from home
Presence, Number 62, November 2018
Red Lights, Vol. 15, Number 1, January 2019
I bandage
my sister's wounds
with rose petals,
crooning our mantra . . .
all will soon be well
in with the new
shorn fields
scintillate with frost
except
in the shadows
where antelope lie
we wait
for lake-effect snow
on the verge
of knowing something
that hasn't happened yet
winter camping
in the high country
I have been
too long without this
kinship of mountains
a phoenix
of northern lights rises
above the prairie . . .
bird without feathers,
song without sound
fat clusters
of snowflakes drift
toward earth
I wonder where life
will take us next year
my sister's wounds
with rose petals,
crooning our mantra . . .
all will soon be well
in with the new
shorn fields
scintillate with frost
except
in the shadows
where antelope lie
we wait
for lake-effect snow
on the verge
of knowing something
that hasn't happened yet
winter camping
in the high country
I have been
too long without this
kinship of mountains
a phoenix
of northern lights rises
above the prairie . . .
bird without feathers,
song without sound
fat clusters
of snowflakes drift
toward earth
I wonder where life
will take us next year
Presence, Number 63, March 2019
glacial striation the omega wolf's many scars
flash freeze
an otter oozes down
the bank
star-nosed mole
we search for light
in dark places
ripe lemons
from a roadside stand
this afternoon
I will serve my old friend
an ice-cold glass of sun
flash freeze
an otter oozes down
the bank
star-nosed mole
we search for light
in dark places
ripe lemons
from a roadside stand
this afternoon
I will serve my old friend
an ice-cold glass of sun
NeverEnding Story, March 2019
Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu:
she is suspended
between here and gone
a cobweb
catching the light
of this moth-winged life
A Hundred Gourds, 4:1, December 2014
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
Evaluated in the thematic context of this existential angst that manifests in Ls 1&2, the visually striking image in Ls 3-5 adds emotional weight and philosophical depth to the tanka.
Life is a frail moth flying caught in the web of the years that pass. (Sara Teasdale)
she is suspended
between here and gone
a cobweb
catching the light
of this moth-winged life
A Hundred Gourds, 4:1, December 2014
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
Evaluated in the thematic context of this existential angst that manifests in Ls 1&2, the visually striking image in Ls 3-5 adds emotional weight and philosophical depth to the tanka.
Life is a frail moth flying caught in the web of the years that pass. (Sara Teasdale)
Naviar Records - Haiku Music Challenge 268, 2019
Featured haiku February 20, 2019:
Please enjoy the music created in response to my haiku:
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Best Haiku, Canada
2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
Please enjoy the music created in response to my haiku:
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Best Haiku, Canada
2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
Kokako, Number 30, April 2019
savannah a dazzle of zebras kicking up moondust
limestone lake
sunlight changes the way
we look at things
vernal equinox . . .
rare snow snakes begin
to slither
from every branch until
only wet shadows remain
limestone lake
sunlight changes the way
we look at things
vernal equinox . . .
rare snow snakes begin
to slither
from every branch until
only wet shadows remain
Haiku Canada Review, Vol. 13, Number 1, February 2019
washboard road every now and again not
the healing balm
of new-fallen snow . . .
we crawl
into our quinzhee
and light a candle
the healing balm
of new-fallen snow . . .
we crawl
into our quinzhee
and light a candle
Golden Triangle Haiku Contest 2019
Judges' Favourites:
wind gusts
the sudden chimes
of flag poles
Comments: This year we received nearly 2,000 entries from 50 countries and 41 states, and the District of Columbia...
wind gusts
the sudden chimes
of flag poles
Comments: This year we received nearly 2,000 entries from 50 countries and 41 states, and the District of Columbia...
Frogpond, Vol. 42.1, Winter 2019
wind-spun petals again my thoughts lead nowhere
steep gorge . . .
our voices spill across
the ages
steep gorge . . .
our voices spill across
the ages
#FemkuMag: An E-Zine of Women's Haiku - Issue 10, March 2019
labyrinth i walk into and out of myself
3rd Place Senryu, 2018 San Francisco International Competition
circles of lichen
I thought we would have
more time
3rd Place, 2018 Kaji Aso Studio Haiku Contest
split chrysalis
all the ways we learn
to become small
Museum of Haiku Literature Award, Blithe Spirit 26.1, 2016
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Winner, 2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
come quickly
the dandelion clocks
are running out of time
if we can make
a few more wishes,
father might come home
HM, 2018 Frameless Sky Mad About Cherita Contest
the growth rings
of otoliths and trees . . .
when did she
become smaller
than her daughters
2nd Place, 2017 United Haiku and Tanka Society Fleeting Words Tanka Contest
tracks of birds
meander through snow . . .
the surgeon
marks her left breast
with a cross
1st Place, 2016 British Haiku Society Tanka Awards
3rd Place Senryu, 2018 San Francisco International Competition
circles of lichen
I thought we would have
more time
3rd Place, 2018 Kaji Aso Studio Haiku Contest
split chrysalis
all the ways we learn
to become small
Museum of Haiku Literature Award, Blithe Spirit 26.1, 2016
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Winner, 2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational
come quickly
the dandelion clocks
are running out of time
if we can make
a few more wishes,
father might come home
HM, 2018 Frameless Sky Mad About Cherita Contest
the growth rings
of otoliths and trees . . .
when did she
become smaller
than her daughters
2nd Place, 2017 United Haiku and Tanka Society Fleeting Words Tanka Contest
tracks of birds
meander through snow . . .
the surgeon
marks her left breast
with a cross
1st Place, 2016 British Haiku Society Tanka Awards
#FemkuMag: An E-Zine of Women's Haiku - Issue 9, February 2019
ultrasound butterflies instead of a baby
organ
donation
living
someone
else's
best
life
a new year
how long before I stop
missing you
organ
donation
living
someone
else's
best
life
a new year
how long before I stop
missing you
Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 4, Issue 40, April 2019
Retrospective Issue
Thank you to Mike Rehling, the editor, for selecting this hagia and for his lovely comments below:
Debbie is a master at haiga. I don't know what the diagnosis is she is referring to, or if the poet is the one who has received it, but I do believe that dragonfly is indeed lucky for them. As least I want to believe it. The hints of color in the dragonfly may just be the poet's way of conveying her own feelings about the situation and imbuing the dragonfly with her own hope.
Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, February 2019
Featured Artist: February 9, 2019
Note: tanka first published by GUSTS 27, Spring/Summer 2018
Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 44, March 2019
windblown seeds
refugees try to cross
the border
neon lights
a cardboard roof
sags with snow
refugees try to cross
the border
neon lights
a cardboard roof
sags with snow
Blithe Spirit, Vol. 29, Number 1, February 2019
frost-silvered
the withered garden
blooms with light
moonsongs
we drive deep
into the night
a waterfall
frozen in time . . .
I brush
mother's hair until
she falls asleep
thirty-five
types of snowflakes . . .
no one told me
that they would
all taste the same
Note: this issue also contains my selections and commentary for the Museum of Haiku Literature Award
the withered garden
blooms with light
moonsongs
we drive deep
into the night
a waterfall
frozen in time . . .
I brush
mother's hair until
she falls asleep
thirty-five
types of snowflakes . . .
no one told me
that they would
all taste the same
Note: this issue also contains my selections and commentary for the Museum of Haiku Literature Award
Australian Haiku Society, 2019
Autumn Equinox Haiku String - March 21, 2019
backyard campout . . .
we fall asleep counting
the ghosts of stars
the flash
of a stranger's smile . . .
sun shower
office tower . . .
a peregrine nests outside
my window
backyard campout . . .
we fall asleep counting
the ghosts of stars
the flash
of a stranger's smile . . .
sun shower
office tower . . .
a peregrine nests outside
my window
Atlas Poetica, Number 36, February 2019
wintertide
glissading down
steep mountainsides . . .
we are horses
with our snowy tails
streaming in the wind
every year
winter casts its spell . . .
like children,
we are bewitched anew
by the signature of snow
the length of night
yet again,
sleep eludes me . . .
an owl and I
ponder the eternal
question of identity
insomnia . . .
mice at play
inside
the thin walls
of my dreams
girlhood
we brew tea
from the dark leaves
of cat's whiskers
but first, you tickle me
with their stamens
we chase
each other across
cloud shadows,
nothing under our feet
but this prairie sky
we once played
in this tangled garden,
enchanted
by the quiet fireworks
of bergamot and butterflies
glissading down
steep mountainsides . . .
we are horses
with our snowy tails
streaming in the wind
every year
winter casts its spell . . .
like children,
we are bewitched anew
by the signature of snow
the length of night
yet again,
sleep eludes me . . .
an owl and I
ponder the eternal
question of identity
insomnia . . .
mice at play
inside
the thin walls
of my dreams
girlhood
we brew tea
from the dark leaves
of cat's whiskers
but first, you tickle me
with their stamens
we chase
each other across
cloud shadows,
nothing under our feet
but this prairie sky
we once played
in this tangled garden,
enchanted
by the quiet fireworks
of bergamot and butterflies
The Mamba, Issue 7 - Africa Haiku Network, March 2019
the peacock rattles
its tailfeathers
the length
of a giraffe's tongue . . .
acacia thorns
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