The Haiku Pea Podcast
Series 3, Episode 20 - "Found Poetry", October 19, 2020
storm-clouds
I spread out my joy
on the grass
culled from: "New Rain", The One & the Many by Rabindranath Tagore
Sunday, November 01, 2020
Poetry Pea, September 2020
The Haiku Pea Podcast
Series 3, Episode 18 - "Loss", September 21, 2020
circles of lichen
I thought we would have
more time
3rd Place
2018 Kaji Aso Studio Haiku Contest
winter jasmine
we inhale the scent
of dying stars
The Cherita, Book 41, August 2020
Issue: "i heard it first"
the aurora
pulses overhead
like a heartbeat
in these dark times
light knows how
to lift me up
Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, October 2020
Featured Artist: October 31, 2020
Note: this tanka was first published in GUSTS 31, Spring/Summer 2020
World Haiku Review, Autumn 2020
squirrel-proof
we buy a bird feeder
that isn't
Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Shintai Haiku Category
sequestered
I cultivate the seeds
of loneliness
Editor's Choice Haiku
Hon. Mention, Vanguard Haiku Category
Comments:
This is an interesting way of handling loneliness caused by the pandemic. All the secrets are contained in line 2. The interpretation of the words 'cultivate' and 'seeds' decides the author's response. She is not yet suffering from the fully-blown loneliness but clearly expecting it is coming. In that case, it would certainly be better to 'grow' it in the way she likes or tolerates, rather than leaving it to grow by itself out of her control, making her life an utter misery. There is 'good' loneliness and 'bad' loneliness. The word 'cultivate' seems to me to be giving such implications.
—Susumu Takiguchi
The Haiku Foundation, Per Diem, September 2020
Selected by Susan Burch for the theme of "Mental Health/Illness": September 9, 2020
split chrysalis
all the ways we learn
to become small
Museum of Haiku Literature Award
Selected from Blithe Spirit 25.4, 2015
Wednesday, October 28, 2020
The Cicada's Cry: A Micro-Zine of Haiku Poetry, Autumn 2020
a pinch
of sun in our soup . . .
marigolds
The Bamboo Hut, Number 4, 2020
The Birds Inside My Ribcage
railway spur the to and fro of meadowlarks
blown cattails
moorhen prints emboss
the mud
circles of sun
in the peregrine's eyes . . .
windy bluff
smoky moon
a sandhill crane's
rusty crown
solstice
the snowy sky freckled
with crows
Under the Basho, 2020
we amble
along an esker's spine
gravel shifting
into small symphonies
underneath our boots
ghost moths . . .
mother's pale hands
f l u t t e r
around the light
of her memories
sacred waters . . .
we sleep among pods
of sperm whales
suspended upright
in the ocean's belly
along an esker's spine
gravel shifting
into small symphonies
underneath our boots
ghost moths . . .
mother's pale hands
f l u t t e r
around the light
of her memories
sacred waters . . .
we sleep among pods
of sperm whales
suspended upright
in the ocean's belly
Shamrock Haiku Journal, Number 44, September 2020
prairie sun
the yellow chest sacs
of sage grouse
elder flowers
the whistles we will make
from their stems
Moonlight Haiku Challenge Anthology - Consulate General of Japan in Toronto, September 2020
The Consulate General of Japan in Toronto published the following haiga in their Moonlight Haiku Challenge Anthology:
Kokako, Number 33, September 2020
the footprints
of invisible people . . .
sandstorm
distant thunder
bred by lightning . . .
a coyote's yip
the air thicker
than manuka honey . . .
how long
has it been since
we danced with bees
the brash calls
of trumpeter swans
overhead
we are always searching
for the best place to land
sunlight's tongue
flicks among oak leaves
how seductive
these age-old dances
with elusive shadows
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
GUSTS, Number 32, Fall/Winter 2020
every tide
etches its own screed
upon the sand
here and there, traces
of someone else's ashes
a string
of shabby prayer flags
in the ditch
snowflakes mending edges
where hope used to be
saucers of ice
spin their way downriver . . .
we are honed
until nothing remains except
the roundness of memory
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