spawning capelin the silver curl of a wave
Sunday, March 01, 2020
Wind Flowers: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku, 2019
limestone lake
sunlight changes the way
we look at things
Kokako, Number 30, April 2019
sunlight changes the way
we look at things
Kokako, Number 30, April 2019
Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, February 2020
Curated by Lavana Kray
February 1, 2020
Note: this tanka sequence originally appeared in Ephemerae, Volume 1A, April 2018
February 8, 2020
Note: this haiga originally appeared in Ephemerae, Volume 1A, April 2018
February 18, 2020
Note: this haiga originally appeared in Scryptic, Issue 2.2, August 2018
February 25, 2020
Note: this haiku originally appeared in Seashores, Volume 3, November 2019
#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 21, February 2020
Guest Editor: Susan Burch
he says he'll see me in hell(ebore)
day-old buns
the crusty tone
of your voice
my patience wearing thin my hair
he says he'll see me in hell(ebore)
day-old buns
the crusty tone
of your voice
my patience wearing thin my hair
NeverEnding Story, February 2020
Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu:
dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath
1st Place (tie), 2016 San Francisco International Competition
Chen-ou Liu's Comments: (excerpted from commentary by judge Marilyn Shoemaker Hazelton)
...we stand at the delicate edge of winter where air is crisper, and "reindeer moss" whispers beneath our feet. The color of this tundra is muted. Perhaps the light is also. In response to small, mysterious sounds framed by quiet, the breaths of those within the poem startle and deepen. And we have an opportunity to appreciate what we usually take for granted...
dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath
1st Place (tie), 2016 San Francisco International Competition
Chen-ou Liu's Comments: (excerpted from commentary by judge Marilyn Shoemaker Hazelton)
...we stand at the delicate edge of winter where air is crisper, and "reindeer moss" whispers beneath our feet. The color of this tundra is muted. Perhaps the light is also. In response to small, mysterious sounds framed by quiet, the breaths of those within the poem startle and deepen. And we have an opportunity to appreciate what we usually take for granted...
Jalmurra, February 2020
Featured Artist: February 10, 2020
Note: this haiku received 1st Place in the 2018 Sharpening the Green Pencil Contest
Halibut, February 2020
This is an original double-exposed photograph which incorporates a found tanka from Beside the Waterfall by Mary Oliver:
Haiku Canada Review, Vol. 14, Number 1, February 2020
a flurry
of wings strumming
wintry air . . .
you urge me to leave
while I still can
of wings strumming
wintry air . . .
you urge me to leave
while I still can
#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 20, January 2020
melancholia . . .
a spider shows me how
to mend my world
poverty we hope the new year will be brighter
black
ice
our
god
children
still
angels
a spider shows me how
to mend my world
poverty we hope the new year will be brighter
black
ice
our
god
children
still
angels
Red Lights, Vol. 16, Number 1, January 2020
a red star pinned
to the breast of night . . .
you've been gone
more than a lifetime,
yet your light still shines
the colour of complacency
a pale child
with flaxen hair warns
us of danger
why are so many
too blind to listen
prayers offered
to the rising sun
a rainbow
of saris flecked
with toxic foam
our world
is clutching onto life
but only just
a spider monkey swings
above the blood-red fire
another forest
takes its last breath
a miasma
of black despair
settles in my lungs
I soothe
my weary spirit
in a river
of blue-eyed grasses
how did we come to this
to the breast of night . . .
you've been gone
more than a lifetime,
yet your light still shines
the colour of complacency
a pale child
with flaxen hair warns
us of danger
why are so many
too blind to listen
prayers offered
to the rising sun
a rainbow
of saris flecked
with toxic foam
our world
is clutching onto life
but only just
a spider monkey swings
above the blood-red fire
another forest
takes its last breath
a miasma
of black despair
settles in my lungs
I soothe
my weary spirit
in a river
of blue-eyed grasses
how did we come to this
Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 5, Issue 51, March 2020
Honoured to have the following haiga chosen as this month's cover, with thanks to editor, Mike Rehling!
Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, March 2020
soft rime
a chickadee's song
becomes visible
Honourable Mention
Irish Haiku Society International Competition, 2019
a chickadee's song
becomes visible
Honourable Mention
Irish Haiku Society International Competition, 2019
Bottle Rockets, Vol. 21, Number 2 (or #42), February 2020
frostbite
a lynx shakes stars
off its paws
a lynx shakes stars
off its paws
The Mamba, Issue 9 - Africa Haiku Network, March 2020
estrangement . . .
even army ants know how
to build bridges
even army ants know how
to build bridges
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