Mariposa, Number 52, Spring/Summer 2025

wolf willow

our horses spook

in the wind

prairie gumbo

the year of the lilies

that weren't

Mariposa, Number 51, Autumn/Winter 2024

petroglyphs

a kayak claimed

by the rocks

let fall

the things that drag

you down . . .

pine trees begin to shed

their snowy burdens

Mariposa, Number 50, Spring/Summer 2024

milk teeth

teasel bracts pin down

the snow

This issue includes the results of the 2023 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka:

there was

so much I wanted

to teach you . . .

a blue jay's feathers

are not really blue

1st Place

let's drive

down this prairie road,

singing until

we collide head-on

with the Milky Way

Honourable Mention

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2023

there was

so much I wanted

to teach you . . .

a blue jay's feathers

are not really blue

First Place

Judge's comments:

For me, this was the clear winner. The tanka is deliberately concise and open-ended. This brevity lends weight to every word. A sense of loss and longing permeate the poem, giving it great emotional depth. There is enough 'space' to allow for reflection - it's a poem that the reader can truly inhabit. It also prompts us to look closely, to observe the details. The combination of all these elements made this tanka leap from the page. A deserving winner.

—Alan Peat

let's drive

down this prairie road,

singing until

we collide head-on

with the Milky Way

Honourable Mention

Judge's comments:

Although our ultimate fate is unavoidable, there is such a sense of untrammeled joy in this tanka. And what a final image!

—Alan Peat

 

Mariposa, Number 49, Autumn/Winter 2023

ancient caldera

clouds waterfalling

over the rim

homeless men

play chess in the park . . .

each one

a forfeited pawn

in someone's game

Mariposa, Number 48, Spring/Summer 2023

sea thrifts everywhere we look dawn

nightingales sing

from hidden perches

sometimes

the little details

are all that matter

This issue includes the results of the 2022 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka:

autumn arrives

in a whirl of leaves

this body

withering, too, despite

my best intentions

2nd Honourable Mention Tanka

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2022

autumn arrives

in a whirl of leaves

this body

withering, too, despite

my best intentions

2nd Honourable Mention

Judge's comments:

In this poem, autumn is referring to the autumn of our lives. There's nothing we can do to stop the aging process. There's no fountain of youth, so no matter what we do, we are dying or "withering," just as fall withers into winter. The phrase "whirl of leaves" alludes to the whirlwind that life is. It seems like we're a child and then before we know it, we're over the hill. Time passes more quickly than we want, especially as we get older and feel the end closing in. We can use masks, retinol cream, or exercise and eat the right foods, but inevitably, there's nothing we can do to stop what's going to happen. The use of commas in line 4 further emphasizes the narrator's attempt to slow down this process, by literally slowing the poem down. There's also an acceptance to it too in line 5, with a bit of humor to boot.

—Susan Burch

Mariposa, Number 47, Autumn/Winter 2022

an ammo box

padlocked and buried

in his garden

the seeds of sorrow

dad kept inside himself

Mariposa, Number 46, Spring/Summer 2022

moonstone

this galaxy I carry

in my pocket

the river

spews its wrath between

canyon walls . . .

our humanity foundering

in this pandemic's wake

(note: this tanka was printed incorrectly as "on this...)

 

Mariposa, Number 45, Autumn/Winter 2021

pyrocumulus

the dragon arching

across your back

dusty tack

hangs in empty stalls

redolent

with memories that might

or might not be mine

 

Mariposa, Number 44, Spring/Summer 2021

leaves of grass

and hollow reeds sing

between our lips

we join the insects

orchestrating summer

the intricate lace

of decaying leaves

are we

any less beautiful now

that our youth is gone

This issue includes the results of the 2020 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka:

a raven

believed it could fly

through me

unaware that I am glass,

pretending to be sky

3rd Place Tanka

 

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2020

a raven

believed it could fly

through me

unaware that I am glass,

pretending to be sky

Third Place

Judge's comments:

This one-breath tanka is not only whimsical, but astonishing. The first three lines reveal a raven with magical traits—one who believed it could fly through a person. The tone of the tanka sounds fanciful until it pivots on the fourth line with the word "unaware." Eventually, I hear "glass" shattering into pieces and I feel a sudden twinge of pain as I read the revelation of the last line—"pretending to be sky." Sometimes, I, too, like to pretend that I am carefree and invincible like the sky because it feels good. I even manage to convince others that I am such until I get hurt and I'm reminded that I'm actually fragile, vulnerable, and destructible. It's a sad truth, and the poet has effectively conveyed this message in five lines.

—Christine Villa

Mariposa, Number 43, Autumn/Winter 2020

white squalls

appear in the distance

without warning

this vision of something

I do not want to know

This issue includes the results of the 2019 San Francisco International Rengay Competition:

Rengay written with Jennifer Hambrick (in normal type) and Debbie Strange (in italics):

In the Key of Grey

hydro lines

the sixteenth notes

of grackles

morning

in the key of grey

the lullaby

of wind through grain

empty silo 

high lonesome

a crush of midnight

shadows

barbed wire

the descant of coyotes

curving

into the distance

a train's lament

Third Place (tied)

Excerpted from the judge's comments:

...It was one of very few rengay with a double theme. And the music references are skillfully incorporated into each verse, all of which relate very nicely to one another. I found this rengay to be very aesthetically pleasing.

—Seren Fargo

Mariposa, Number 42, Spring/Summer 2020

the chaos
of children's snow boots
on the porch
we find life's pattern
in this jumble of days


This issue includes the results of the 2019 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu, and Tanka:


the coiled tips
of fiddlehead ferns
remind me
that every forest knows
how to make music

2nd Honourable Mention Tanka

The judge's commentary may be accessed under the San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu, and Tanka tag.

San Francisco International Rengay Competition, 2019

Rengay written with Jennifer Hambrick (in normal type) and Debbie Strange (in italics):

In the Key of Grey

hydro lines

the sixteenth notes

of grackles

morning

in the key of grey

the lullaby

of wind through grain

empty silo

high lonesome

a crush of midnight

shadows

barbed wire

the descant of coyotes

curving

into the distance

a train's lament

Third Place (tied)

Excerpted from the judge's comments:

...It was one of very few rengay with a double theme. And the music references are skillfully incorporated into each verse, all of which relate very nicely to one another. I found this rengay to be very aesthetically pleasing.

—Seren Fargo

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2019

the coiled tips
of fiddlehead ferns
remind me
that every forest knows
how to make music

2nd Honourable Mention Tanka


Judge's comments:

These coiled fern tips remind me of what's called the "scroll" at the top end of a violin, which is surely why these ferns are named for fiddles. These tips will uncoil, as if to release their music. All aspects of the forest—the high canopies of swaying trees, the forest duff below, and everything in between—all contribute to the music of the forest. The poet notices and is filled with appreciation for the harmony of nature.

—Michael Dylan Welch

Mariposa, Number 41, Autumn/Winter 2019

sea fog
white sails split open
the morning


whiffling geese
sift snowflakes between
their wings . . .
I've never felt your loss
more keenly than today

Mariposa, Number 40, Spring/Summer 2019

blackout
wild daisies scatter
the light


summer fair
our dog retrieves
a lost boy


This issue includes the results of the 2018 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu, and Tanka:

Senryu:


labyrinth i walk into and out of myself

Third Place


Tanka:


a star tortoise
carries the universe
on its back . . .
are we slowly moving
away from each other

Second Place


small embers
of rose hips in snow . . .
the look
in mother's vacant eyes
so hard to define

Third Place


The judges' commentaries may be accessed under the San Francisco International Competition for Haiku Senryu and Tanka tag.

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2018

a star tortoise
carries the universe
on its back . . .
are we slowly moving
away from each other

2nd Place Tanka


Judge Kenneth Slaughter's comments:

Tortoises and turtles are survivors. The star tortoise, however, is an endangered species because of its beautiful shell. Humans like to collect them. It's an earthbound creature that carries the symbolic weight of the universe on its back. There are many ways to go in lines 4 and 5, and the ellipses give us a moment to ponder the possibilities.

Scientists know the universe is expanding, and everything is moving away from everything else. The poet reminds of this and wonders if, on a human level, we are also drifting apart. The "we" could be a married couple. Or it could be all of us, as we struggle with alienation, loneliness, and a growing distance from one another. This is a very topical poem, suggesting a whole lot in just five lines.


small embers
of rose hips in snow . . .
the look
in mother's vacant eyes
so hard to define

3rd Place Tanka


labyrinth i walk into and out of myself

3rd Place Senryu


Judge Christopher Herald's comments:

Yes! Both! Love it!

Mariposa, Number 39, Autumn/Winter 2018

dusk-to-dawn the low anthems of great grey owls


fallow fields a light dusting of snow geese


ice-skating
through a winter garden
of frost flowers . . .
there is a certain grace
in learning how to fall


Honoured to have "Snowy Owl" appear in this issue!