WHR August 2011
Haiku Final selection
Again, a vast amount of submissions of haiku was made. One welcome trend which has begun to emerge is that poets are starting to attempt at writing something new, different and interesting rather than blindly following the predominant main stream of world haiku, which has now become more than boring. These attempts are not necessarily successful, which is the cost of such efforts. However, in a sense that is not the point. The real point is that it is heading in a right direction, leading, it is keenly hoped, to better things. Some of them, for this reason, I have selected for this issue even if their quality is not the highest.
As usual, those haiku which fall in the category of Vanguard haiku were few and far between. This is the radical end of all haiku. I urge poets to have courage, open mind and imagination to venture into this exciting zone of haiku. For those who are unfamiliar with our classification of haiku I reprint below the guidance published in the last issue with some modification.
…Some people are asking what on earth is Shintai haiku, or Vanguard haiku. The classification is just like the index titles of a filing cabinet in order to avoid unnecessary polemics about what is and what is not haiku. There are now so many different varieties of haiku that defining haiku seems to me to be almost like fighting a losing and pointless battle. So much so that we had better say that “Haiku is haiku if the author says so.” All that remains to be done is to ask the only right and essential question: Is it then good as a poem?
All haiku poems can conveniently be divided into three categories according to how traditional or radical they are. This is more of a practical classification than of an academic one. The most traditional end is grouped together under the Neo-classical with stringent kigo or 5-7-5 rules. The most radical (freest) end is classified as the Vanguard. Anything between these two falls into the Shintai (or new-style). The borderline cases can go either category depending on the perception of a haiku poet who creates or reads them. And whichever category they may go, it does not matter. Such a preoccupation is “academic”…
Neo-Classical Haiku
First Place
Tonight let’s seesaw
between heaven and earth
on the crescent moon
Riitta Rossilahti
Second Place
hidden pond
frog after frog echoes
the one before
Bruce Ross
Third Place
tuffo di rana
riecheggia il suono in mille
piccole onde
frog's plunge
the sound echoes throughout
thousand small waves
Felice Vinci
Seven Honourable Mentions (In no particular order)
Natsumi kosuge cemetery does the summer wind gowhere you have gone André Surridge
with the world at rest the firefly becomes busy lighting the darkness Priscilla Lignori
Zatsuei, (In no particular order in terms of merit but mostly in the alphabetical order of authors’ surname)
past the chimney Steve Addiss
Summer dawn Siddhartha Borkakati
evening
sunlight Nana Fredua-Agyeman lavender spikes tangled in bindweed morning heat Ann K. Schwader smell of the parched earth Gillena Cox first warm day the kitchen wind chimefinds its voice Susan Constable under a leaf wandering caterpillar summer's end evening shower swimming pool filling into laughter summer sunset – changing colour of rising waves Ramesh Anand love to smell the neighbour’s red roses- they grow over my fence Winona Baker at the edge of summer going more slowly through the rain Gerd Boemer a butterfly bangs into my head – summer’s end Owen Bullock summer breeze – the load of heavy-limbed poplars Sharon Burrell after the fireworks crescent moon sinks in the west fourth night in July Stephen Colgan a spider hanging by a thread . . . midnight moon Susan Constable lightening strike uplifted saguaro arms in a monsoon sky John Daleiden after the rain – the lilac fragrance covers the moon Ioana Dinescu pregnant ground hog my summer garden her feeding ground rising sun two red-tailed hawks hovering over Lake Biwa Raffael de Gruttola starless sky fireflies move in and out of darkness Nana Fredua-Agyeman late autumn dusk... I cannot quite close the lid on the garbage can Sari Grandstaff Summer breeze a newly blossomed flower nods at the table fan Lars Granström A woodcock nests beak-deep in snow little black eye on me John Hamley garden wedding a grasshopper rides the bridal train William Hart cloudless might mid-august shower of meteors Lois E. Harvey after an illness the sweet smell of fresh cut grass Peggy Heinrich two white butterflies circle each other and me our hearts fluttering flat heat of the day Anne Hills
meadow pond a flurry of white wings the heron and its image Elizabeth Howard | this autumn evening alone with yesterday, today and tomorrow Marie Shimane long summer night a locomotive chugs across my dream Alan S. Bridges rain dance brings only clouds of dust shanna moore widower’s garden her roses bloom side by side with weeds Victor P. Gendrano or Haiku of Merit towards the syrup for hummingbirds Liette Janelle I would like to sing Like a warbler at the dawn, With a voice of God. Douglas F. Johnson Wistfully watching, Light showers falling on jade leaves, Child clutching at bars... Charanjeet Kaur red watermelon cold and sweet to the tongue summer drought Howard Lee Kilby a train journey... I sit backwards, watching the cornfield pass by Natsumi Kosuge morning broomstick, collects crisp leaves, a funeral mound Snehith Kumbla Gently his fat weight sinks the lily pad—and yet, the frog is himself David E. LeCount between the gravestones where the lawnmower can't reach -- purple irises Priscilla Lignori Moonlit bird flies off -- a shadowy branch tap, taps the window CaroleAnn Lovin a bat in the summer twilight flit flies in a jittery circle Patrick Mizelle in the space between star dust and your blue eyes heaven twinkles shanna moore carrying the last rays of the sun kite goes home Aju Mukhopadhyay The earthly tremor shows the land's solar resolve the people rise again Ravaged by earthquake a child finds her family a mud-coated photo Surendra Munshi half lotus . . . the constant drone of flies Nika summer dusk hiking alone I am not lonely Marian Olson leaves sparkle, shimmer... sun glares on blades of grass... Summer screams GREEN! George Power, cotton pyjamas patterned with red hearts – how many summers left? Patricia Prime sweltering heat the frog won't move for the weeding Bruce Ross spent peony the next breath of wind its last longest day one weed after another Ann K. Schwader magnolias— the beauty of endurance in a shaken world Marie Shimane sudden summer rain - another rinse cycle for this week’s laundry John R. Snyder open windows – from the garden I can hear the neighbor’s long shower John R. Snyder wizened apples – all the words I didn’t say still on the tree Richard Stevenson Hot summer night - Fire outlines distant hills... Cool full moon looks on Shalini Sunkuru ice-cream chimes... piercing the humid air a little girl's scream André Surridge sunset view - from balcony roof to wall the spin of spiders izak bouwer the moon so pure a meandering river carries it as I watch Anna Yin |
