Showing posts with label haibun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label haibun. Show all posts

Saturday, January 25, 2025

Hedgerow Poems, Number 147, 2024

 Chaff and Bone


This washboard road, lit by rusty torches of burdock, leads to what's left of our farmhouse. The stone in my chest dislodges and liquefies, seeping through pores clogged with memories. I feel myself becoming smaller the closer I get to home.

meadowlark
if you could see
me now

Thursday, December 22, 2022

Hedgerow Poems, Number 140, 2022

Beyond


We find the photographs and journals after you're gone. Finally, the answers to questions we were too blind to ask. You found peace beside the sea, and so, we return you there.

all the times
no one noticed . . .
glass octopus
 

Monday, May 30, 2022

Burnt Diary: Memoir in Haibun and Tanka Prose, Moth Orchid Press, 2022

My thanks to the editor for including the following haibun and tanka prose in this lovely anthology:


Coming Undone

She always wore the same sweater. I've kept it all these years, and I wear it whenever my memories of her start to fade. Today, the last button came off, and I put it in the sweater's frayed pocket for safekeeping. When it slipped through a hole, and dropped between the floorboards, I finally realized that she was never coming home.

heirloom quilt
sparrow prints embossed
on new snow 


2nd Publisher's Choice Award
KYSO Flash Haibun and Tanka Prose Contest, 2016


Totems

When I live on the prairie, I long for the sea. When I live by the water, I yearn for the land. I am always living either half-empty or half-full, my totem selves pulling me in opposite directions.

my weathered skin
crusted with salt and dirt
the aftertaste
of this life and the last
where do I go from here


Skylark 3:2, 2015

Friday, June 12, 2020

Drifting-Sands-Haibun: A Journal of 21st Century English-language Haibun and Tanka Prose, Issue 1, April 2020

Coming Undone


She always wore the same sweater. I've kept it all these years, and I wear it whenever my memories of her start to fade. Today, the last button came off, and I put it in the sweater's frayed pocket for safekeeping. When it slipped through a hole, and dropped between the floorboards, I finally realized that she was never coming home.

heirloom quilt
sparrow prints embossed
on new snow


2nd Publisher's Choice Award
KYSO Flash Haibun and Tanka Prose Contest, 2016


Thursday, April 16, 2020

#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 22, March 2020

a halo around
the long night moon . . .
I find
another strand
of mother's light

Winner, 10th Annual Moonbathing Tanka Contest, 2018


Coming Undone

She always wore the same sweater. I've kept it all these years, and I wear it whenever my memories of her start to fade. Today, the last button came off, and I put it in the sweater's frayed pocket for safekeeping. When it slipped through a hole, and dropped between the floorboards, I finally realized that she was never coming home.

heirloom quilt
sparrow prints embossed
on new snow

2nd Publisher's Choice Award
KYSO Flash Haibun and Tanka Prose Contest, 2016


Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol.5, Issue 52, April 2020

Thank you to guest editors, Terri and Raymond French!




Monday, December 16, 2019

#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 18, November 2019

Haibun issue edited by Tia Haynes


not my fairytale

We used to make angels in the sand until our hair and skin sparked like fire on water. Now, I sit with my back against a chunk of driftwood, as hoary as this life without you.

castle ruins
a whale swims
up the moat




Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Vol. 4, Issue 48, December 2019

Haibun issue edited by Sonam Chhoki


I was thrilled to learn that the following haibunga had been chosen for this month's cover:





Sunday, April 09, 2017

KYSO Flash 2016, State of the Art Annual Anthology Number 3

Coming Undone


She always wore the same sweater. I've kept it all these years, and I wear it whenever my memories of her start to fade. Today, the last button came off, and I put it in the sweater's frayed pocket for safekeeping. When it slipped through a hole, and dropped between the floorboards, I finally realized that she was never coming home.


heirloom quilt
sparrow prints embossed
on new snow


Haibun: Second Publisher's Choice Award, HTP Writing Challenge 2016


Commentary by KF Editors:

This little button of a haibun reminds us of the set-up in "The Last Leaf" by O. Henry, in which the consumptive young woman thinks that she'll die when the last leaf falls outside her window. "Coming Undone" avoids any clever plot twists and aims directly at the heart in a spare and effective way.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

KYSO Flash, Issue 6, Fall 2016

Coming Undone


She always wore the same sweater. I've kept it all these years, and I wear it whenever my memories of her start to fade. Today, the last button came off, and I put it in the sweater's frayed pocket for safekeeping. When it slipped through a hole, and dropped between the floorboards, I finally realized that she was never coming home.


heirloom quilt
sparrow prints embossed
on new snow


Second Publisher's Choice Award, KYSO Flash HTP Writing Challenge


Commentary by KF Editors:

This little button of a haibun reminds us of the set-up in "The Last Leaf" by O. Henry, in which the consumptive young woman thinks that she'll die when the last leaf falls outside her window. "Coming Undone" avoids any clever plot twists and aims directly at the heart in a spare and effective way.