Featured Artist: December 10, 2021
Welcome to this archive of my published poetry, photography and art. Thank you for allowing me to share my creative passions with you, and for taking the time to visit. Please be kind, and do not copy any of the content on this site without permission and attribution. All rights reserved © Debbie Strange. I unfold my origami self / and swim into a lake of fire / washing my hair in ashes / the crane-legged words / of a thousand burning poems.
- Archive
- Articles/About
- Awards & Honours
- Images & Words
- Other Writing
- Photography Publications
- Poetry of Light Photography Exhibition
- Readings/Videos
- A Year Unfolding: Haiku
- Mouth Full of Stones: Haikai eBook
- Prairie Interludes: Haiku eChapbook
- Random Blue Sparks
- The Language of Loss: Haiku & Tanka Conversations
- Three-Part Harmony: Tanka Verses
- Warp and Weft: Tanka Threads
Wednesday, December 22, 2021
Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 55, December 2021
laundry day
we learn to wring out
our anger
Contemporary Haibun Online, Issue 17.3, December 2021
My thanks to Ron Moss for selecting my work for the haiga showcase feature, and for his lovely commentary!
Debbie Strange's work has been published widely; her haiku and art are always of a top standard. In this gallery we can see how she combines colors and shapes to create mesmerizing images, and then pairs them with poems that deepen the experience.
Haiga Showcase Feature:
Wow! The colors and shapes of "city skyline" ensure that this haiga will stand out anywhere. The clever visual of repeated shapes connects well with the one-line haiku, which is nicely balanced at the bottom of the image.
The "hammered dulcimer" is a lovely kaleidoscope of shapes and colors, with a touch of texture and human emotion. The text has been balanced well on the image and contained in a small box, which allows for readability amongst all the busyness.
"Our bodies" offers another strong image. The tree takes the whole frame, and the white space surrounding it gives us room to breathe. The haiku's use of the curving wind echoes the leaning tree, making everything come together in a balanced way.
Two strong brushstrokes compose the main visual of "the wingspan," and they're countered nicely by the vertical text—something that is not easy to achieve. The subtle background colors give us a feeling of a sky in the digital realm.
Chalk on the Walk Haiku Project (New Zealand), 2021
Curated by Sherry Grant
Collaborative Haiga Feature: December 21, 2021
Chalk on the Walk Monoku Project (New Zealand), 2021
Curated by Sherry Grant
Haiga Feature: December 21, 2021
Chalk on the Walk Haiku Project (New Zealand), 2021
Curated by Sherry Grant
Haiga Feature: December 11, 2021
Chalk on the Walk Monoku Project (New Zealand), 2021
Curated by Sherry Grant
Haiga Feature: December 1, 2021
Bull-Headed: Haiku, 2021
My thanks to the editor, Corine Timmer, for including my work in this anthology, and for donating the proceeds to "Care for Cows Vrindavan"!
highland steer the shagginess of my covid hair
please note: this work was submitted as a monoku, but was published as a three-line haiku in error
Temple, British Haiku Society Members' Anthology, 2021
moon bridge
the arch of a dragonfly
laying eggs
Blithe Spirit, Vol. 31, Number 4, November 2021
a woolly bear's
segmented colours . . .
firebreak
we shelter beneath
our cedar-strip canoe
heavy rain
hammers nails of light
into the water
a rabbit's head
falls out of the dusk
I stand transfixed
as a horned owl's wing
silently lifts my hair
note: This tanka is based on an actual event. A horned owl dropped his dinner on our balcony, and then swooped in to retrieve it. A truly magical (albeit, gruesome) moment!
Akitsu Quarterly, Winter 2021
circling wolves a cyclone of reindeer in the forecast
humid cave
ice pillars thrust
upward
My thanks to the editor, Robin White, for featuring this haiga on the back cover!
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, 5:1, Autumn/Winter 2021-2022
night of stars
the singing bowl
of our campfire
lifting fog
the day breaks into
something other
Sunday, November 21, 2021
Tsuri-doro: A Small Journal of Haiku and Senryu, Issue #6, November/December 2021
basalt pillars
father used to seem
so tall
Ribbons, Volume 17, Number 3, Fall 2021
My thanks to Jenny Ward Angyal for her lovely review of The Language of Loss: Haiku & Tanka Conversations. It may be accessed via the book title's tab of this blog.
a whisper
of moths circling
the beacon
it is much too late
for sirens
My thanks to Ryland Shengzhi Li for including my work in his essay, Gifts of Tanka: An Essay on Structure:
"The event-and-response structure comprises an event, state, or thing paired with a response...
the ocean
was in a rage last night
but today,
these peace offerings
of blue mussels and kelp
(1st Place, 2018 Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest)
Here, the event comprises the first two lines of the ocean in a rage last night, while the response, today's peace offerings, comes in the last three lines. What follows rage is not destruction, as one might expect, but offerings of peace.
Although the words of the poem focus on the ocean, they also invite the reader to infer meanings about human life. The poem suggests a mood of hopeful expectation in a dire situation, perhaps reconciliation after a fight. If even the ocean, the vastest thing on earth, can resolve rage with peace offerings, how much more so we human beings. In this sense, the poem's description of the ocean gives us perspective and grounding in our own life, while relating the ocean to human affairs helps us see the ocean with greater familiarity. The poem also suggests the impermanence of all things: even a strong emotion like rage will eventually wane and be pacified. The "peace offerings" here are also food items, often used to cultivate peace between humans.
Haiku Canada Review, Volume 15, Number 2, October 2021
(ir)rational thinking you might even be right
clear conscience
a loon's call drifts
into morning
This issue includes a lovely review by Pearl Pirie of Prairie Interludes. It may be accessed via the book title's tab of this blog.
My thanks to Maxianne Berger for mentioning my work in her review of Window Seats: A Contemporary Anthology of Cat Haiku & Senryu, edited by Stanford M. Forrester:
There are cats who have no homes, and cats who do.
pussy willows
the swollen bellies
of feral cats
(note: this haiku was originally published in Acorn 32, Spring 2014)
Daily Haiga: An Edited Journal of Traditional and Contemporary Haiga, November 2021
Featured Artist: November 20, 2021
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