The Cherita, Book 43, October 2020

Issue: "an old sadness"

a cloak of clouds

draped across

my shoulders

I wander

these ancient hills

that loved you

my father's shape

a small snowdrift

in this hospital bed

he opens his eyes

and calls me

by my childhood name

sea nymphs

I listen

to soft whisperings

inside

the pink nautilus

of your ear

 

Australian Haiku Society, 2020

Summer Solstice 2020 AHS Haiga Kukai: Non-Seasonal Entry

voyages . . .

the light we find inside

ourselves

Highly Commended

Judge's Commentary:

Ah yes, a fine reflection on the voyages through life and the light we find in ourselves is indeed what sustains and nurtures our very existence. All the great traditions speak of going within to truly know our source and what we truly are. Debbie has given us a great teaching beside the humble lighthouse - a beacon of hope and a saving grace for us all.

—Ron Moss

Summer Solstice 2020 AHS Haiga Kukai - Seasonal Entry

halcyon days

we are made of sand

and water

(Note: these haiku were written in response to artwork by Ron Moss)

Irish Haiku Society International Haiku Competition 2020

My thanks to the judge, Anatoly Kudryavitsky, for selecting the following haiku:

storm hour

the cliff's face carved

a little deeper

3rd Prize

IHS, International Haiku Competition 2020

 

Triveni Haikai Calendar Competition, 2020

My thanks to Kala Ramesh, Shloka Shankar, and Shobhana Kumar! The following haiku was chosen for the month of March, 2021:

balcony garden

the birds have finally

found me

Honourable Mention

Triveni Haikai Calendar Competition, 2020

Polish International Haiku Competition, 2020

My thanks to the judge, Marta Chocilowska, for the commendation!

forgotten grave

only the small bones

of leaves remain

Commended Haiku

Polish International Haiku Competition 2020

 

Akita International Haiku Network, 9th Akita International Haiku Contest, 2020

My thanks to judges, Ben Grafström, Hidenoru Hiruta, and David McMurray for awarding the following haiku on the theme of "Time/Temporality":

blue nemophila

I still miss the little things

about my sister

Winning Haiku

9th Akita International Haiku Contest (English Section-Open) 

(there were 241 contest entries)

Note:

The Japanese hillsides near the sea are carpeted with little blue nemophila in the spring. I have also grown the white and purple varieties, but in this case, I wanted to convey the colour of my late sister's eyes. To write in the 5/7/5 format (contest requirements) without using excess words, is a challenge I enjoy. I'm also happy if I'm able to incorporate a pivot line, offering a bit of ambiguity for the reader to ponder and interpret in their own way. When read with line one, "I still miss the little things", might mean that the writer regrets not noticing small, everyday joys. When read with line two, the meaning might be taken more literally. 

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, December 2020

 Curated by Lavana Kray

December 7, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Blithe Spriit 30.2, May 2020)

December 12, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Moonbathing 18, 2018)

December 14, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in GUSTS 32, 2020)

December 26, 2020

(Note: this senryu originally appeared in Cattails, April 2020)

Bloo Outlier Journal, Issue 1, Winter 2020

rose petals i slip deeper into reverie

Moonbathing, Issue 23, Fall/Winter 2020

wind-stung,

our cheeks bloom

redder

than these poppies

we lay upon your grave

Frameless Sky, Issue 13, December 2020

ancient track

many feet still know

the way

lowering sky

no rainbow yet

to lift me up

 

Eucalypt, Issue 29, December 2020

cradling

this guitar like a baby

I sing

lullabies for all those

with empty arms

 

Stardust Haiku, Issue 48, December 2020

trace elements

the things I didn't know

you kept

 

Jalmurra, December 2020

Featured Artist: December 21, 2020

Note: this haiku originally appeared in The Cicada's Cry, Winter 2019

Featured Artist: December 24, 2020

Note: this haiku originally appeared in the Australian Haiku Society, 2019

 

Yuki Teikei Haiku Society, Haiga Holiday Celebration, December 2020

Though I was unable to attend the virtual YTHS Haiga Holiday Celebration, I was happy to share this haiga:

The Poetry Pea Journal of Haiku and Senryu, Autumn 2020

Editor: Patricia McGuire

"Voyages"

contrails

the undulation of dunes

becoming water

"Joy"

wild angelica

the candied scent

of your name

sun trap

the cat's tail tickles

my toes

"Loss"

winter jasmine

we inhale the scent

of dying stars

Poetry Pea, December 2020

 The Haiku Pea Podcast

Series 3, Episode 24 - "No Verbs", December 21, 2020

percheron

sixteen hands full

of stars

Commended

New Zealand Poetry Society International Poetry Competition, 2018

dry fountain

the blue tongue

of a gargoyle

Haiku in Canada: History, Poetry, Memoir - Ekstasis Editions - by Terry Ann Carter, 2020

Honoured to have three haiku chosen by Terry Ann Carter for inclusion in this amazing book:

icicle

the melted taste

of you

The Bamboo Hut Press, 2014

Erotic Haiku: Of Skin On Skin, Black Moss Press, 2017

the whistle

of a wood duck . . .

her last breath

Honourable Mention

2015 Drevniok Award

weathered barn

the silence of cobwebs

in moonlight

Honourable Mention

2016 European Haiku Prize

"...Winnipeg poet, Debbie Strange, contributes her poetry online, and has been internationally recognized for her haiku. She is a maker of poems, music, photographs, and art. Her poetry often reflects her deep reverence for nature. From an interview (Ribbons, 15(2), 2019) reprinted on her website, she mentions: "As a child, I used to curl up on the couch in our farmhouse while listening to my father recite poetry. This was my introduction to the power of words, and I remain under their spell to this day."

Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective, December 2020

Curated by Eric A. Lohman

Featured Artist: December 22, 2020

Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, December 2020

Grateful to Charlotte for posting two tanka and one haiku on December 20th, 2020!

blue nemophila

I still miss the little things

about my sister

Winning Haiku

9th Akita International Haiku Contest, 2020

a smudge

of blackbirds swirling

into evening . . .

how fluid the shape

of this sorrow

2nd Place

Fleeting Words Tanka Contest, 2018

watching you

prepare a star fruit

just so

the small galaxies

of grace in your hands

Runner-up

The British Haiku Society Tanka Awards, 2019

Akitsu Quarterly, Winter 2020

blowing snow

sarsen stones lean

into it

the red candles

of staghorn sumac . . .

winter solstice

wood stove

our dented kettle

sings all day

Elated to have the following two haiga chosen for back cover of the journal!

Ink Sweat and Tears - The Poetry and Prose Webzine - December 2020

The Twelve Days of Christmas Feature

First Day, December 21, 2020

(note: this haiga first appeared in Under the Basho, 2020)

 

Kindred Spirits, A Linked Tanka Sequence Video, November 2020

It was my honour to be invited to write a tanka sequence with the esteemed poet, an'ya. She has created a video of our sequence, with accompanying music by Richard St. Clair, at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCEKDNfvXaM&feature=youtu.be

My work appears in italics below...

of kindred spirits

far apart
but soulful singing
keeps us close
sisters of the salt
on pendulum tides

I dreamt
the oracle of oceans
left your voice
inside an empty shell
for me to find at dawn

a sailor's sky
making the briny blue
palette purple
you are my second self
an ama freediver

kindred spirits
we take flight below
the waterline
bodies like quicksilver
among shoals of herring

november gale
mother mary's petrels
seeking shelter
we travel side by side
reflections in the surf

burnished
by pelagic winds
our bones
come to rest at day's end
upon each other's shores

Atlas Poetica, Number 37, 2019

Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 51, December 2020

candy cane snail

it takes time to earn

your stripes

unkempt graves

the poppies that once

stood at attention

the portal

of a wren's nest

lockdown

 

Under the Basho, 2020

Personal Best

frozen trough

I cup the warm breath

of my horse

1st Place, 2018 Sharpening the Green Pencil Haiku Contest

Hokku

cloud shadows . . .

a drove of jackrabbits

in mid-flight

Modern Haiku

tear gas

the missing eyespot

on a moth's wing

trilliums

we learn to thrive

in your shadow

fourteen eyes

on the possum's back . . .

night train

false apology

the stiff tail feathers

of a ruddy duck

the spine

I used to have . . .

sea urchin

 

Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, 4:1, Autumn/Winter 2020-2021

the emptiness

of a mermaid's purse . . .

rusted hull

ashfall

the missing river

of heaven

Weird Laburnum, December 2020

 

The Cherita, Book 42, September 2020

Issue: "leave me here"

they fashioned

beaks for their masks,

nostrils stuffed

with lavender

to thwart the stench

of plague

no matter

how often I mend

the fabric of my life

loose threads

of regret still dangle

here and there

my senses

more alive

than they were

a butterfly's wing

holds all the colours

I cannot name

 

The Heron's Nest, Vol. 22, Number 4, December 2020

afterlight

acorns surf the roof

of our tent

stepping stones

a damselfly invites us

to change course

International Picture Postcard Project, 2020

I'm honoured to be included in this project with the following haiku:

transience . . .

petal by petal

we let go

Winning Haiku, 2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival

Haiku Connects Us

About the project "Haiku Connects Us":

The idea of a project of sending postcards from your local place with a word haiku - handwritten on the reverse side - has been on my mind for some time. However, I did not have the courage to make it real. When I finally made a decision, I was only thinking about my close friends I was in touch with.

Yet, fate was different. Human kindness and the pandemic overlapped with one another.

My friends popularized the project worldwide without my knowledge. The first postcard came on February the 1st, later on came many more. Since March there has been a breakdown due to the pandemic. I get postcards that were on their way for 100 days, they are tattered and worn out but victorious.

I wonder how many of them are there left in post bags?

Sending a postcard seems to be a simple act but in fact it isn't. Apart from financial aspect there is also time devoted to it and finally finding a postbox. Sometimes buying a postcard may be a challenge! For me the most interesting was a human factor. Who would be eager to give a little heart, thought or empathy? I wasn't let down. The postcards I received speak to me with their image and handwritten haiku. Handwriting, stamp, postmark, sometimes earmarks are all precious to me. They make me become mentally closer to their sender. I can tell a lot about each and every postcard and I am very moved. Man is victorious, haiku is victorious, in the end we are all victorious and for that I thank you cordially.

—Krzysztof Kokot

Ribbons, Volume 16, Number 3, Fall 2020

somewhere

in the curling spiral

of this apple

for a few moments,

I am wholly present

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, November 2020

 Curated by Lavana Kray

November 4, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in The Heron's Nest 19.1, March 2017)

November 13, 2020

(Note: this senryu originally appeared in Failed Haiku 3:28, April 2018)

November 23, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in Creatrix 39, November 2017)

November 29, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Moonbathing 16, Spring/Summer 2017)

Horror Senryu Journal, December 2020

pond dipping

the face I see

at the bottom

 

Presence, Number 68, November 2020

frostquakes

these recurring dreams

of war

hawk strike

I let go

of my breath

the apostrophe

on a quail's head . . .

uncut hay

an elegancy

of avocets reflected

in the pond

we drop our troubles

into the stillness

(note: in the first haiku, "frostquakes" was published as two words)

 

Stardust Haiku, Issue 47, November 2020

bullied child

a painted lady's

broken wings

 

New Zealand Poetry Society International Poetry Competition 2020

Haumi ē! Hui ē! Tāiki ē! Stay Well Here - NZPS Poetry Anthology 2020

rolled-up jeans

the sudden fountains

of bivalves

winter camping

we make a bonfire

of the aurora

Hedgerow Poems, Number 132, Summer 2020

a torn flip-flop

sanderlings tease

the surf

sargussum

heaped in rotting mats

on the beach

I find a seagull's wing,

and weep for this world

 

Human/Kind Journal, November 2020

Humanities Category

Honoured to know that the editors nominated this senryu for a Touchstone Award:

(note: This haiga was created in memory of my cousin, whose murder has never been solved. A ghost gun has had its identifying markings removed.)

 

Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 5, Issue 60, December 2020

 Selected by Co-Editor, Bryan Rickert

(note: this senryu first appeared in Creatrix 39, November 2017)

(note: this senryu first appeared in #FemkuMag 9, February 2019)

(note: this senryu first appeared in The Heron's Nest 20.3, September 2018)

(note: this senryu first appeared in the Asahi Haikuist Network, January 2019)

Contemporary Haibun Online, Issue 16.3, December 2020

Haiga Gallery: selected by Ron Moss

 

City, British Haiku Society 30th Anniversary Members' Haiku Anthology, 1990-2020

empty diner

petals of light beneath

the streetlamp

 

Blithe Spirit, Vol. 30, Number 4, November 2020

skipperlings here and there a dog's tail

blue elf cup

one droplet of light

at the centre

dad tells us

that everything is fine

and dandy . . .

this year, we notice

the weeds in his garden

I breathe

a sigh of relief . . .

the pulse

of bread dough rises

under my hands

 

Yuki Teikei Haiku Society Tokutomi Haiku Contest, 2020

crickets in the field . . .

we still hear grandma calling

us home for dinner

Honourable Mention

Tokutomi Haiku Contest 2020

 

The Helping Hand Haiku Anthology (Including Senryu, Tanka, and Haiga), 2020

Editor: Robert Epstein

summer fair

our dog retrieves

a lost boy

Mariposa #40, 2019

I bandage

my sister's wounds

with rose petals,

crooning our mantra . . .

all will soon be well

Red Lights, 15.1, 2019

(note: this haiku originally appeared in The Poetry Pea Journal of Haiku and Senryu, Spring 2020)

(note: this haiku was selected for the 2019 Yamadera Basho Haiku Contest)

(note: this tanka originally appeared in Presence #61, 2018)

 

Seashores - An International Journal to Share the Spirit of Haiku, Vol. 5, November 2020

My thanks to Gilles Fabre for his congratulatory message in this issue. The following haiku was short-listed for the 2019 Touchstone Award for Individual Haiku (first published in Seashores, Issue 2, April 2019):

bioluminescence

I skip a pebble across

the universe

**

not yet

the white of snow . . .

tundra hare

ditch flowers

this year I will learn

their names

woodcock moon

the first snow will fall

tomorrow

 

Horror Senryu Journal, November 2020

harlequin

the bruises behind

your mask

 

Bundled Wildflowers, Haiku Society of America Members' Anthology 2020

canyon fog

this invisible rift

between us

 

Haiku Canada Review, Vol. 14, Number 2, October 2020

(w)age equity

minnows dart

between our fingers . . .

summer fling

I stand

beneath a canopy

of white,

the span of my hands

against an aspen's heart

 

Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, November 2020

My thanks to Charlotte for featuring three sets from The Language of Loss: Haiku & Tanka Conversations (Sable Books 2020), winner of the 2019 International Women's Haiku Book Contest:

rainbows

spin from the crest

of a wave . . .

I wish we'd had more

time to say goodbye

    feathers

    on the empty beach

    I write his name

**

a star tortoise

carries the universe

on its back . . .

are we slowly moving

away from each other

    dark matter

    we never plan

    to be alone

**

ancient graves

sink into marshland . . .

the long bones

of our ancestors

wandering, still

    hollyhocks

    our parents grow smaller

    every year

 

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, October 2020

Curated by Lavana Kray

October 3, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 1:2, 2018)

October 7, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Haiku Canada Review 14.1, 2020)

October 11, 2020

(Note: this haiga originally appeared in the 157th Monthly Haiga Contest of the World Haiku Association, October 2017)

October 21, 2020

(Note: this tanka art originally appeared in Ribbons 15.2, Spring/Summer 2019

 

NeverEnding Story, October 2020

Cool Announcement: A Freebie, Prairie Interludes by Debbie Strange

My Dear Friends:

The award-winning e-book of haiku, Prairie Interludes, written by NeverEnding Story contributor, Debbie Strange, is now available to read free online

Selected Haiku:

a wet spring

dark furrows seeded

with stars

boundary lines

every fence post topped

with a baseball cap

rusted rails

a meadowlark with the sun

in its throat

cloudless sky

a pelican's pouch

full of light

harvesting night

an arc of moondust

from the auger

prize pumpkins

our hayrack buckles

with light

fog weaving

between fence posts

a coyote's song

antelope

the humming of wind

in barbed wire

 

NeverEnding Story, October 2020

Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu:

the ocean

was in a rage last night

but today,

these peace offerings

of blue mussels and kelp

1st Place

2018 Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest

Chen-ou Liu's Comments: (excerpted from commentary by judges Jessica Malone Latham and Neal Whitman)

The word "rage" has a long, storied history in literature. It is a universal emotion and, for sure, people have long experienced the rage of the ocean. How excellent we thought was its use in line two, rather than using a word such as "storm." We admired the use of a simple comma at the end of line three to give the reader a short pause to allow a moment to ponder, "What's next?" Ah, there is a resolution to the last night. Today? A peace offering to which we felt an "aah" moment. How welcome is the bounty. The ocean offers an infinity of treasures. We found the blue mussels and kelp to be a delightful choice made by this poet. We have already mentioned reciting tanka aloud to take in their sound. You might not choose to read out loud all nine of the awarded tanka, but this one, in particular, lends itself to deeper appreciation with its pivot at the end of line three. You might experience tranquility with lines four and five. We did...

Cattails, October 2020

Thrilled to provide the cover and interior butterfly photos for this issue! My thanks to Mike Montreuil for the invitation.

Cover

Tanka Section

watermarks

paint the canyon walls . . .

my chanting

reverberates until

I am one with sound

by and by

I promise to tell you

everything

but for now, let us listen . . .

nature is speaking

Editor's Choice

It's strictly coincidence that two of my Editor's Choice selections are written by Canadians. This one, by Debbie Strange, drew me in with its musical 'by and by' followed by a hint that she might be ready to share a secret. Who can resist reading further?

Each line is a coherent thought or phrase and slips easily into the following line without confusion. The form is fairly traditional, with its s/l/s/l/l/ sound and appearance on the page ... and that works well for me. I also like the human element combined with nature.

The change of direction when we arrive at the mid-line comma works well. We discover we're not going to hear 'everything'; instead, we have to listen. I doubt that readers will expect what's to come in line 5, but what a delightful surprise with which to conclude this engaging tanka.

I suspect some people would say punctuation is not needed. Technically, maybe it isn't. However, I find the comma and ellipsis slow me down, give me time to be still, become calm, and to open my ears and really listen.

—Susan Constable

Haiku Section

freezing fog

the intermittent embers

of rose hips

Senryu Section

global warming

the extinction event

of snowmen

Haibun Section

Youth Section

The following haiga was also included in this issue:

 

The Wanderer Brush by Ion Codrescu, Red Moon Press, 2020

Honoured to have work chosen for The Wanderer Brush - The Art of Haiga:

Haiku from 79 International Poets

Selected, Edited and Illustrated by Ion Codrescu

This lovely book contains the biographies of included poets, as well as a favourite haiku chosen by each poet, and corresponding commentary.

homecoming . . .

a bouquet of sky

in an old jar

1st Place, 2017 Australian Haiku Society Spring Haiga Kukai

transience . . .

petal by petal

we let go

Winning Haiku, 2017 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational

fog deepens

the sound of rabbits

nibbling night

Grand Prize

2016 World Haiku Competition

A thousand thanks to Ion for this evocative haiga!

I was surprised and grateful to have fellow Canadian poet, Michael Dudley, choose the following haiku as a favourite, and I thank him for his generous and sensitive reading of my work:

atlas moth

the places I thought

we'd go

Honourable Mention

2017 Jane Reichhold International Prize

"In the particular is contained the universal." James Joyce

Within this precise, concise, deftly expressed haiku by Debbie Strange, a quiet voice of recognition and resignation conveys a gracious though bewildered acceptance of time passed and opportunities lost. The exact possible life destinations/discoveries/experiences that the persona and another/others have not shared; judiciously, the poem does not explain the reason/s for such unfulfillment. Thus, each reader may enter the details of the poem personally, inspired by the words to revisit and contemplate similar circumstances from his/her own life. The particulars included within the poem and the details left out seamlessly evoke a universal theme.

—Michael Dudley

I chose the following haiku by an'ya as a favourite:

birth death

this stretch of beach

between

Daily Haiga, December 2009

I'm a lifelong beach rambler, so this melancholic haiku resonates with me on many levels, and can be interpreted both literally and metaphorically. I've always been intrigued by what the tides leave behind (birth), and what they take away (death). The physical space between the words "birth" and "death" reminds me of the dash often etched between dates on a tombstone. The word "beach" is a perfect metaphor for "life", and with only seven words, this gifted poet invites me to take a reflective walk through my past into my future.

—Debbie Strange

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, September 2020

 Curated by Lavana Kray

September 5, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in Shamrock 42, September 2019)

September 6, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in Frameless Sky 10, June 2019)

September 9, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Blithe Spirit 29.2, May 2019)

September 12, 2020

(Note: this tanka originally appeared in Cattails, April 2020)

September 18, 2020

(Note: this haiku originally appeared in Modern Haiku 48.2, Summer 2017)

September 30, 2020

(Note: this haiga originally appeared in Haigaonline 18.2, Autumn 2017)

Wales Haiku Journal, Autumn 2020

farm road

a tiger lily fills

with dust

Creatrix Anthology, Number 3, 2020

Issues 36 - 47, 2017 - 2019

#38

dandelion—

every bee flecked

with light

#39

bone density—

the broken stems

of sunflowers

charred trees

the horizon wider

today

#40

woodland trail

we inhale the breath

of old trees

heavy traffic

a queue of ladybugs

on a twig

#42

ancient stones

the orange moons

of lichen

#43

harvesting night

an arc of moondust

from the auger

#44

windblown seeds

refugees try to cross

the border