Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Eucalypt, Issue 27, December 2019
fingers of barley
strum the prairie skies
in this heat
our bones become liquid
our minds become still
strum the prairie skies
in this heat
our bones become liquid
our minds become still
Blithe Spirit, Vol. 29, Number 4, November 2019
journey's end
the red eyes
of a loon
sunflower fields
I never knew yellow
until now
the slough
behind our farmhouse
viridescent
with mallard drakes
in praise of morning
the vibrant trills
of prairie meadowlarks
rising up
from every fence post,
these old familiar songs
the red eyes
of a loon
sunflower fields
I never knew yellow
until now
the slough
behind our farmhouse
viridescent
with mallard drakes
in praise of morning
the vibrant trills
of prairie meadowlarks
rising up
from every fence post,
these old familiar songs
Root, British Haiku Society Members' Anthology, 2019
beachcombing . . .
a fossil emerges
out of extinction
a fossil emerges
out of extinction
Hedgerow Poems, Number 129, Autumn 2019
Note: haiku first published in Modern Haiku 50.3, Autumn 2019
Naviar Records - Haiku Music Challenge 312, 2019
Featured Haiku December 25, 2019
Please enjoy the music created in response to my haiku:
frozen trough
I cup the warm breath
of my horse
1st Place
2018 Sharpening the Green Pencil Haiku Contest
Please enjoy the music created in response to my haiku:
frozen trough
I cup the warm breath
of my horse
1st Place
2018 Sharpening the Green Pencil Haiku Contest
#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 19, December 2019
Guest Editor: Elizabeth Alford
snow shadows we find a deeper meaning
polar
night
the
hospital
corridor
even
longer
freezing rain . . .
every worry doubles
in size
snow shadows we find a deeper meaning
polar
night
the
hospital
corridor
even
longer
freezing rain . . .
every worry doubles
in size
The Bowerbird Tanka Group - 21st Bowerbird Tanka Workshop, November 30, 2019
I extend my deep gratitude to Julie Thorndyke for the following generous and sensitive commentary:
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
we surrender
to the acrid breath
of smoking dragons
Cattails, January 2014
"When I read this poem for the first time, it gave me shivers up my spine. No doubt it is because in Australia we are in the grip of early bushfires: a spring in which even rainforests are burning, and koalas are dropping from heat in a scarred landscape which no longer resembles the lush seaside towns of our childhood summer holidays.
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
Debbie Strange is writing about specific agricultural fields but for me they are the country landscapes of memory, brought to mind through the poet's use of sibilance and the hard, consonant sounds of 'f's and 'b' and 'd' and 'c/k'. The metaphor of the dragon representing fire is traditional, but the specific mention of "acrid breath" makes the image very real and reinforces for me the allusion to lost childhood places. The terrible smell after the bushfire. The desolation brought by a monster more real than Smaug himself. The word 'siege' represents the battle between nature and man, as in Tolkien's mythical war. How I wish that our native trees were able to mobilize, like Ents, and carry our wildlife to safety.
But no: the third line, the classic tanka pivot, is chilling: "we surrender". Hope is gone. We accept the dragons' power. It is a death scene.
I have never met Debbie Strange, except on the pages of tanka journals. I have learned that her words are elegant and piercing, and often they provide that little emotional jolt that make tanka such a powerful form of poetry. Here she uses a clasic tanka shape; fewer than 31 syllables; there is a rhythm in the lines and a build-up to line 5 and the drama of the dragon image.
There is plenty of room for wondering in this poem. Smoke can be used as a tool, and perhaps that is another message that readers could glean from these words. The mark of an effective tanka is that there is space for readers to bring to it their own interpretations.
This poem
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
we surrender
to the acrid breath
of smoking dragons
is for me, a call to arms—we must react against these words and not surrender to the dragon but work to change the seemingly inevitable descent into smoke-filled disaster on this planet. Thank you, Debbie."
Appraisal by Julie Thorndyke
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
we surrender
to the acrid breath
of smoking dragons
Cattails, January 2014
"When I read this poem for the first time, it gave me shivers up my spine. No doubt it is because in Australia we are in the grip of early bushfires: a spring in which even rainforests are burning, and koalas are dropping from heat in a scarred landscape which no longer resembles the lush seaside towns of our childhood summer holidays.
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
Debbie Strange is writing about specific agricultural fields but for me they are the country landscapes of memory, brought to mind through the poet's use of sibilance and the hard, consonant sounds of 'f's and 'b' and 'd' and 'c/k'. The metaphor of the dragon representing fire is traditional, but the specific mention of "acrid breath" makes the image very real and reinforces for me the allusion to lost childhood places. The terrible smell after the bushfire. The desolation brought by a monster more real than Smaug himself. The word 'siege' represents the battle between nature and man, as in Tolkien's mythical war. How I wish that our native trees were able to mobilize, like Ents, and carry our wildlife to safety.
But no: the third line, the classic tanka pivot, is chilling: "we surrender". Hope is gone. We accept the dragons' power. It is a death scene.
I have never met Debbie Strange, except on the pages of tanka journals. I have learned that her words are elegant and piercing, and often they provide that little emotional jolt that make tanka such a powerful form of poetry. Here she uses a clasic tanka shape; fewer than 31 syllables; there is a rhythm in the lines and a build-up to line 5 and the drama of the dragon image.
There is plenty of room for wondering in this poem. Smoke can be used as a tool, and perhaps that is another message that readers could glean from these words. The mark of an effective tanka is that there is space for readers to bring to it their own interpretations.
This poem
stubble fires
scarred fields under siege
we surrender
to the acrid breath
of smoking dragons
is for me, a call to arms—we must react against these words and not surrender to the dragon but work to change the seemingly inevitable descent into smoke-filled disaster on this planet. Thank you, Debbie."
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.
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
World Haiku Review, December 2019
father waxes
his handlebar moustache . . .
crescent moon
Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Shintai Haiku Category
his handlebar moustache . . .
crescent moon
Zatsuei Haiku of Merit
Shintai Haiku Category
Atlas Poetica, Number 39, 2019
leaving
when death
calls me home
let it be
while I lie with you
in the wilderlands
I surrender
myself to mystery
believing
that something immutable
waits beyond my ken
when death
calls me home
let it be
while I lie with you
in the wilderlands
I surrender
myself to mystery
believing
that something immutable
waits beyond my ken
Monday, December 30, 2019
Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, December 2019
star-nosed mole
we search for light
in dark places
Shortlisted
Best-of-Issue, Presence 63, 2019
we search for light
in dark places
Shortlisted
Best-of-Issue, Presence 63, 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
Irish Haiku Society International Haiku Competition 2019
soft rime
a chickadee's song
becomes visible
Honourable Mention
12th IHS, International Haiku Competition 2019
Note:
over 320 entries judged blindly by Anatoly Kudryavitsky
a chickadee's song
becomes visible
Honourable Mention
12th IHS, International Haiku Competition 2019
Note:
over 320 entries judged blindly by Anatoly Kudryavitsky
The Haiku Foundation, Per Diem, November 2019
Selected by Pravat Kumar Padhy for the monoku theme of "Celestial Bodies": November, 2019
a curl of eyelash on your pillow crescent moon
Brass Bell, April 2016
a curl of eyelash on your pillow crescent moon
Brass Bell, April 2016
The Haiku Foundation, Haiku Dialogue, November 2019
"Social Issues" prompts by Lori Minor: poverty and hunger
charity
how hard it is
to ask
charity
how hard it is
to ask
Purple Cotton Candy Arts, Will You Still Love Me? A Puppy Haiku Story, December 2019
Will You Still Love Me? A Puppy Haiku Story: written by Christine L. Villa, illustrated by Jiliane Vilches, and published by Purple Cotton Candy Arts.
I'm honoured to have the following haiku included:
ice cream truck . . .
our Dalmatian appears
out of nowhere
I'm honoured to have the following haiku included:
ice cream truck . . .
our Dalmatian appears
out of nowhere
Australian Haiku Society, December 2019
Summer Solstice 2019 AHS Haiga Kukai: Seasonal Entry
firestorm a dusting of red on the glacier
Summer Solstice 2019 AHS Haiga Kukai: Non-Seasonal Entry
patchwork quilt . . .
a happy cow produces
more milk
(Note: these haiku were written in response to artwork by Ron Moss)
firestorm a dusting of red on the glacier
Summer Solstice 2019 AHS Haiga Kukai: Non-Seasonal Entry
patchwork quilt . . .
a happy cow produces
more milk
(Note: these haiku were written in response to artwork by Ron Moss)
Seashores - An International Journal to Share the Spirit of Haiku, Vol. 3, November 2019
prognosis . . .
in the cranberry bog
cinders of light
fern spores
the ellipsis after
your goodbye
in the cranberry bog
cinders of light
fern spores
the ellipsis after
your goodbye
Moonbathing, Issue 21, Fall/Winter 2019
laden boughs
tremble in ambient light
I catch
a fleeting memory
of you holding my hand
tremble in ambient light
I catch
a fleeting memory
of you holding my hand
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