Showing posts with label Folk Ku. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Folk Ku. Show all posts

Saturday, January 25, 2025

Folk Ku: A Journal in Honour of Master Masoka Shiki (1867-1902), King River Press, Issue 4, November/December 2024

home range
even the barn owls
have moved away


frozen path
a vole that didn't make it
to the burrow


mom becomes
a shadow of herself . . .
firelight


Note: for my Mother, Marjorie MacKenzie (1920 - 1990)

Wednesday, June 05, 2024

Folk Ku: A Journal in Honour of Master Masoka Shiki (1867-1902), King River Press, Issue 3, June 2024

pasture stones
dad's gumboots heavy
with mud


last breath
snowflakes collecting
in Buddha's lap


Note: for my brother-in-law, Peter Bruce Wood (1948 - 2024)
 

The Haiku Foundation: The Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems, 2023

There were 1671 nominations, and I'm honoured that the following haiku is included in the longlist of 54 poems. My thanks to the editor of Folk Ku, Jodie Hawthorne, who nominated by work, and to the judges for taking the time to read!


snow grains
the field dad had no time
to plant

Folk Ku, Issue 1, May 2023

Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Folk Ku: A Journal in Honour of Master Masoka Shiki (1867-1902), King River Press - Award Nomination 2023

Thrilled to have the following poem nominated by the editor and longlisted by The Haiku Foundation for the 2023 Touchstone Award:


snow grains
the field dad had no time
to plant

Folk Ku, Issue 1, May 2023


Thursday, November 30, 2023

Folk Ku: A Journal in Honour of Master Masoka Shiki (1867-1902), King River Press, Issue 2, November 2023

sprigs of clover
in the gopher's mouth . . .
funeral luncheon


Note: for my sister, Elaine MacKenzie Bulmer, who is at rest on a prairie hill (1944-1972)

Thursday, June 01, 2023

Folk Ku: A Journal in Honour of Master Masaoka Shiki (1867-1902), King River Press, Issue 1, May 2023

prairie road
one headlight drifts
over the line


Note: for Mike, Kelly, Elizabeth (age 5), Curtis (age 2) Strange who perished together in a motor vehicle accident


snow grains
the field dad had no time
to plant


Note: for my father, Ewen MacKenzie (1912-2003)