WHR‎ > ‎WHR Home‎ > ‎WHR January 2011‎ > ‎

Haiku 2, January 2011

Shintai Haiku Selections

First Place
        I play piano
        to chase away the blues
        from my humble house

Howard Lee Kilby
Second Place
        hair strand
        divides her
Snehith Kumbla 
Third Place
        icy winter day
        refusing his brown hand
        she slips again

Victor P. Gendrano

        I tip my hat
        the wind insists

ayaz dary nielsen

Seven Honourable Mentions (In no particular order)

       Christmas snow 
can angels dance
on a pinhead?

Chen-ou Liu

Musky perfume
open unsleeping eyes--
drowsy sweetness


amateur night
a candle melting into
candle remains

John Stevenson 

                         Zatsuei, or Haiku of Merit

a marble Christ
stained glass sunlight
over his woe
Alexander Ask
red poppies--
a gentle breeze 
blows across the minefield
Alan S. Bridges
clear sky
a sick vulture all alone
in the tree
Rosa Clement
shot guns 
a flock of birds flies
without scattering
Rosa Clement
  street puddle
the crow drinks a few drops
of sky
Rosa Clement
railroad yard
a beggar
wrapped in cardboard
Raffael de Gruttola
day lilies -
alongside the vase
yesterday's petals
Peggy Heinrich

On a city street
the baby squirrel hesitates
and I catch my breath.

Anne Hills
  paper birch
paper wasp
Elizabeth Howard
grandpa at the beach -
    watches waves come and go
    come and go, come .....
vishnu p kapoor


war memorial
the soldier's shadow covers
another soldier
Rosa Clement
dental waiting room
I numb my worries
with stale news

William Hart
holding the flower 
in the middle of its being -
the red poinsettia 
Priscilla Lignori 

stray cat,
sleeping with our
easy-going mutt

ayaz dary nielsen 

(In no particular order)

bringing wildness
to the wilderness

Sean MacMathuna
for sale
in snow

john martone
stand naked
leafless frosty branches;
life almost squeezed

Aju Mukhopadhyay
winter, a phase
of life, comes to lead it
to fulfilment

Aju Mukhopadhyay
shadows forgetting
daytime discretions

ayaz dary nielsen 
shafts of sunlight —
his fingers trace
her skin

Nirali Shah
Time to talk
to the inner child--
baby sitting

    one of these days
         one of those days

John Stevenson 

        Wanting a poem
        I lie in bed just barely 
        Aware of birdsong

Elizabeth Strand