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 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 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 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 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 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!

San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka, 2016

dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath

1st Place (tie)


Judge Marilyn Shoemaker Hazelton's comments:

...Next, 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. Both poems center on absence and presence within our lives, and remind us how breath companions and consoles us with its beauty.

Mariposa, Number 36, Spring/Summer 2017

dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath

1st Place (tie)
2016 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka

Haiku Poets of Northern California, 2016 San Francisco International Competition

The 2016 San Francisco International Competition for Haiku, Senryu and Tanka


dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath


First Place (tie)


Comments by Marilyn Shoemaker Hazelton, Tanka Judge:

...Next, 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...