The Bush Warbler

The Magazine of The World Haiku Club

Vol. 3, Issue 2: December 2003

The Bush Warbler

The WHF 2003 Bush Warble

As part of the World Haiku Festival 2003 in Holland we asked haiku poets around the world to perhaps take a short walk over the weekend of the WHF and share with us their haiku and thoughts be they from their walk or some other activity they took part in during the time of the Festival. This way, by sharing their 'bush warbles', the whole world became part of the festival. Some sent haiku, others short notes and haiku, haibun and photos. The Bush Warble was not a kukai, a competition but a sharing and its in that spirit that we print the warbles in all their glory - juat as they came in - unedited and full of the spirit that the WHC has become accustomed too from haiku poets the world over.

We haven't published the photos but I think you'll agree that these words bring with them many many pictures.

Thanks to each and everyone for sharing with us something of your life, in the same selfless way that the Bush Warbler throws its song to the wind.

Paul Conneally

Education & Regional Director WHC

The Bush Warbles

I really like warblers, but now is sad time "after warblers", because the majority of the birds are taciturn. I like the nightingales and I find for myself the blackbirds singing in the manner of Miles Daves (somehow cool and with the pauses in which the bird listen its own frase) and the blackcaps (Silvia atricapilla) singing as Charlie Parker (specially if you try to slow this singing you can find elements of Parkers and Gillespie's jazz frases). Maybe it is the reason Charlie was known as "bird". I like the nightingales, but the blackcaps and the congenial sorts are for me the best in the bird warbler word. Try to listen them and differentiate when Spring come again ! Good luck !

high noon—

warblers fell silent

buzzing of flies

Tomislav Maretic

Zagreb, Croatia

I will join Bush Warbler' the World Haiku Festival by sending a haiku that I made at the old canal in Tokyo.

The canal has been made at Edo era and near Fukagawa. At that time Basho has been alive, and maybe visited there.

The pool was surrounded by high building, but the water of canal was continued to the Tokyo bay. The plenty willows guarded the atmosphere of Basho.

Willows swing

....at old canal

....Basho still is

Sakuo

Best regards,

Sakuo

My "Kentucky Warbler" was seen skimming the rippled surface of the Ohio River. My ginko took place on the Kentucky side of course! A beautiful, clear and sunny day, squeezing every living moment from Summer's soul.

Ohio River

a warbler's feather floats

to new waters

b'oki

(bette wappner)

northern Kentucky, USA

Be looking on the water's shores there in Holland for b'oki's Kentucky Warbler's feather! Wish I could be there. :)

It's sunny this morning, and a bit hot, we however, are in the rainy season; here in Trinidad and Tobago. On my way to an errand, walking pass the St James high school, I muse and admire how well the grounds are kept, the blooming red ixora are resplendent in the sunshine, I have to look where I'm going however, and as my glance returns to the concrete pavement, there it is, head tucked in a tiny grey mass.

the sidewalk

wings elegantly folded

a dead bird

gillena cox

St James, Trinidad

crisp morning

the redemption center

reeking of beer

conservation land

i find my way back

by someone's litter

organic farm

bugs eat bugs

who eat plants

Z. Vayman (Zinovy)

Massachusetts, USA

I'm pasting a new haibun "Misery Bay" and I'll understand if you find it too depressing or meanspirited.

Thanks,

Helen Ruggieri

Olean, NY, USA

MISERY BAY

September 11th we walk around the monument to Commodore Perry commemorating the Battle of Lake Lake Erie between the British and the United States on September 13, 1813.

Perry won the battle (Don't Give Up The Ship!) but lost the winter following when he moored in the sheltered waters of Presque Isle near Erie, PA. Smallpox was epidemic that winter spreading below decks in the low ceilinged, cramped quarters where the crew sheltered from the terrible lake winds that came down across the lake from Hudson Bay.

The dead (and sometimes the nearly dead) were dropped through holes chopped in the ice in what came to be called Dead Men's Pond. And the Bay came to be called Misery Bay in remembrance of that wretched winter after such a triumph, the very first naval victory for a fledgling government.

Not far away someone is orating about 9/11 promising we will never forget, creating a new holiday, something like November 11th which we no longer observe.

A pox on all their wars, all their pious speeches.

bright sun

sand sucks at our feet

small waves break

before dawn the mars lights up

the moon shines through the clouds

bunches of corns on a table

The full Moon shines through the clouds before dawn.

Mars is brilliant at a distance from the Moon.

I felt chill in late Autumn. - Sekimu

This [photo] was taken while hiking late this afternoon (Sept 12), in a rocky seep area near Lost Creek Lake in southwestern Oregon, USA. Slow moving water flows there every season except for Summer.

Brook M. Montane

USA

bird feeder—

a timbre of graitude

in the bird's warble

an'ya

Oregon, USA

daily horoscope

expect

the unexpected

doris kasson

Bush Warble Gingko

Largo, Florida, USA

waking to a warbler

wounded son waits for VA

i send milk chocolate

Nancy Stewart Smith

Georgia, USA

knot hole

here, a cicada cried

itself to oblivion

earlier and earlier

eating the evening meal

darkness

DW Bender

Orlando, Florida, USA

the moonlight illuminates

Japanese pampas grasses

the silver waves—

moon viewing

a small girl hugs her rabbit doll

next to her mama

etsuko

Japan

It was beautiful moon viewing this years too......

on the sundeck

birds and talk silenced

the ocean's roar

~Francine Porad

(Makaha, Hawaii)

On a gloriously warm and sunny autumnn day, I visited the River Thames, close to its last point of navigation,in Lechlade. There were cruisers and narrowboats moored along the banks whilst a few small hire boats went upriver to explore as far as they could go. There must have been at least twenty swans drifting around, some coming hopefully up to onlookers, others searching the river bottom, tails up, legs akimbo. One swan seemed to have set himself above the others and was swimming around with his beautiful white wings fluffed up high in a threatening manor to any swan that dared to come near.

riverside picnic

an angry swan defends

his feeding place

peace disturbed

a group of swans run

across the river's surface

second chance—

a fish escapes from

the grebe's beak

On the way I stopped off at Burford (Oxfordshire) and sat beside the stone bridge watching the River Windrush speed beneath it. The water was very clear but no fish to be seen. The river bottom appeared to have bubbles moving along it, until I realised that the 'bubbles' were shadows of the waterboatmen, looking as though they had huge round feet.

fast moving current

a waterboatman skims

upstream

celia crook

Oxford, UK

This weekend I was at a rehersal for my dancing show, it may not be as special as a country walk or a trip somewhere new but I was there all weekend so its all I could write about! It has never occoured to me to write poetry about dancing before but, once you think about it you can write poetry about absolutley anything. I chose to writh haiku, I love haiku as it gives little clear images and you get a vivid picture of what the poet is thinking. I didnt know whether I had to include the line ' bush warbler' so I wrote two, one with and one without.

showtime in four weeks,

quartet of bush warblers.

jewled costume, bright lights.

OR

scratch on skin surface,

costume pinned not yet sewn.

thimble, needle, thread.

hope they're ok!

ruth (from the renga at the baltic in june)

Tyneside UK

I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people on the planet, because I was able to attend the WHC World Haiku Festival on Saturday (unfortunately, I was unable to attend the other days).

In addition to meeting some wonderful people, I was able to listen to talented poets from all over the world read their haiku to a live audience (though the audience may have been small, the haiku was huge!). During the reading, Leeuwarden's city bells began to peal, and though this is relatively common here in the Netherlands, it just seemed to add to the mystique of the moment and the poignancy of the words.

Debi Faulkner

The Netherlands

MORNING WALK

A hint of red bleeds through the fog shrouded trees.

the drip of moisture

from leaf to leaf—

mist on my glasses

Seeing the lane one foot at a time. Road sounds: distant and muffled,

otherworldly. Imagining waterfalls and oceans.

the creak of a branch—

a squirrel down a tree

and up another

We alone on this path.

Adelaide B. Shaw

New York, USA

My residence is in northern California, close to Berkeley, referred to as the Bay Area. While taking a walk yesterday, I could hear in my mind the call of the Uguisu (Japanese Bush Warbler); I then listened to the actual chirping of birds nearby coming from a wooded area. I was reminded of the Uguisu having inspired ancient Japanese poets, and felt gratitude for their contributions.

first sign of dawn

song of an uguisu, but was it

near my window, or a dream?

Joachim Seckel

California, USA

water-heaven shrine—

an elevator door opens

to an oasis of tokyo

tamahide restaurant—

a winding line of people

wishing to enter

sweet sake alley—

no-nonsense spirit of edo

lives on

sun parasol—

a young lady looks mature

in its shadow

new coolness—

three security checks

before reaching her door

I visited a friend living right in the old town of Tokyo, namely Nihonbashi. Tokyo was called Edo before 1868 when the Shogunate fell.

Eiko Yachimoto

Japan

On Arran I was visiting another poet, Malcomb Ritchie and his Japanese wife, Masako. We read to each other for two hours.

Ardrossan – Brodick – Whiting Bay

perspective in the ferry’s wake,

the horizon widens

from a smile to a grin.

after reading poetry—*

asleep on the bus to Pirnmal

ah didn’t hear the driver shout.

*Ikkyu’s crow with no mouth

translated by Strike (Stonebridge Press – out of print)

ripe brambles glisten

black by the roadside

too many to eat—

fingers turn purple

pasted on the blue sky

the hawk waits for the right moment to dive

.......“great day”

.......“great day”

.......“great day”

..that’s what we say

when passing the other way.

white waves dazzle,

wind so fierce

the pewits are silent

the giant’s grave is guarded

and surrounded by tall spruce—

no birds sing here.

a family of bramblers

whistle as they pick,

with the drone of the sea

lapping at their backs.

in Whiting Bay

since 1965

at the end of the lane

by the burn

there lives

an old woman

from Latvia.

Dinner alone

in the Pantry lounge

light fades over the sea.

Larry Butler

Glasgow, UK

This week-end, I visited a good friend. He had bought several new board games and had been waiting for a chance to try them out. We prepared a few bites and a bottle of wine and got down to playing. I lost most of the games, some far too quickly... but winning the games was less important than the beautiful time spent together...

Board games— you and I

together all evening—

both only winning.

izabera

Brussels, Belgium

Dear Paul san

Thank you very much e-mail

There is national holday in Japan

Respect-for-the -Aged Day ... Keirouno hi in Japanese.

I recollected my great grand mother and grand father .....They told me Japanese old story in my childhood. so I love Japan very much.

I send you My Japanese Haiku photo and the English Haiku of this.

Fan—

Obi`s back

in the moonlight

Etsuko

Japan

------* Your Haiku friend etsuko*-

Hello, from the other side of the world I wish all those attending World Haiku Festival 2003 a very inspiring event. My 'bush warble' comes from South Otago in the South Island of New Zealand. On the Catlins Coast there are many waterfalls and bush walks. This area is very popular with locals and tourists. Our photographic group visited Maclean Falls, Kaka Point, The Nuggets lighthouse and the Cathedral Caves. We had a long but wonderful day. —Craig McLanachan

up the cliff face

many different levels

of tree ferns

after the rains

the deep rumble

of the McLean falls

under the falls

waves of mist

over moss green rocks

beneath the foam

tea coloured water—

roar of the stream

from the tree fern stem

a variety of saplings—

lancewood and birch

through the canopy

a sudden shower—

then sunshine!

meeting the sound

of the busy stream—

birdsong

draping the fuschia

in ten shades of green—

tree moss

the fallen body

of a forest elder—

spans the stream

beside the path

a moss covered bank—

scent of the forest

from the fuchsia

golden bark drapes—

paper for poems

among the rocks

these stunted little trees—

against the odds

afternoon sun—

a red admiral and I

share the rock

an argument of gulls

seeks space for the night—

lifts as one

windshadows brush

across the open bay—

Kaka Point sunset

beneath the lighthouse

an elephant seal rests—

one eye opens

in a rock pool

two seals swim a ballet ~

sinuous symmetry

into the horizon

the shadow of a cloud—

last rays, Nugget Point

Craig McLanachan

New Zealand 2003.

It is Sunday evening and the city is quiet. A neighbor and I stand beneath a streetlight solving the world's problems, and are momentarily distracted by a small but determined rhythm from the shadows. We pause briefly until it stops, then continue on, our conversation randomly punctuated by whatever moves nearby. It is late, so we part company and agree to resume our talk another day; tomorrow begins a new week of work.

old leaves

with each hop a toad

advances autumn

Elbert Pruitt

Texas, USA

went for my daily swim in the san francisco bay today, then took a cable car, the underground, across the bay, and walked to a friend's retrospective at the oakland museum. some warbles along the way—

a winged seed bounces

across the bay, looking for

a landing pattern

so much ink trying to

invent a new alphabet?

overlapping rectangle

ghosts of sprayed-out graffiti

2 tourists from new jersey

gab 'neath tara in poster

fog rolls in

houseless roll shopping carts

towards night camp

*

* *

with peaceful greetings,

Gary Gach

California, USA

coughing up

the sound of father

coughing no more

NB: A result of the dangerous cocktail of severe passive smoking and catching cold in Holland. My cough sounds exactly like that of my late father who of course cannot even cough now.

For the 19th of September:

yellow-green phlegm

from my aching throat,

aching for Shiki-ki

NB: Shiki-ki is the day to commemorate Shiki's death which falls on 19 September (he died in 1902). Shiki means hototogisu, or a cuckoo, who is

said to sing till its throat bleeds.

Susumu Takiguchi

Oxford, England