http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com/
prolonged drought
throwing stones in the pond
without a splash
Chen Xiaoou
imagining
living where once there was
the Permian Sea
Claire Vogel Camargo
monsoon rain
simmering down
the stew of dals
Hifsa Ashraf
either sky or ocean the first blue puzzle piece
Kristen Lindquiet
charred limbs
scent of cedar
on skin
left behind
the baby deer’s
singed coat
rush of flight
the wild fires
pushing winds
I always enjoy haiku by Hannah Mahoney, so it is a delight to see her collection SHIFTING LIGHT from Backbone Press.
I particularly am drawn to moments of self-reflection, and of sudden awareness:
what it means
to have a body
midnight snow
Children are a traditional enough topic in haiku. As more mothers write haiku, the contemporary work is even richer in this intimacy.
folding her clothes
remembering folding
her first clothes
And although we expect nature keenly observed, some of these haiku are refreshingly surprising:
receding wave
a scallop opens
its many blue eyes
With the speed of monoku, everything changes in an instant:
a swallow’s flight a leaf’s
The indigo chapbook with fluttering leaves is a pleasure to hold, but better to open. To order, go to
https://backbonepress.org/category/haiku-collections/
http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com/
breaking my fall a haiku moment
Brad Bennett
no moon tonight i walk alone
Devoshruti Mandal
mother’s grave the red roses she never liked
Jackie Chou
a pile of stones black teacups mended with gold epoxy
Miriam Sagan
teacher’s funeral between loved ones the worst student
Wieslaw Karlinski
Doughnut Haibun
it’s Bicycle month, and Bike To Work Day, and there are free snacks out on the Rail Trail. You work remotely, and don’t bike, but you like a festivity. Maybe you’ll score a second breakfast. But when you come home you are carrying a large shallow cardboard box that broadcasts its contents: doughnuts. A lot of doughnuts. Crullers, glazed, sugared, and doughnut holes. You’ve been giving them away on your return trip along the Acequia Trail. They were leftovers, and the organizers were glad to pass them on. You’re feeding the homeless guys chatting on the bench and the lady who sometimes lives in the tunnel, the by-pass under St. Francis. And there are plenty left over for me.
you say
the roses are blooming
all over town
These nice-looking doughnuts from a road trip a few years agi.
forest fire smoke–
suddenly craving
a cigarette
ancient river rock
sharp edges worn over time
sun etches shadow
Wildfire Haiku
~Stella Reed
through a haze of smoke
red sun
casts blue shadows
What to take. What to leave.
On the map villages
glow red yellow green.
stalwart pines on fire
ash
on blackbird’s wing
planes drop pink slurry
mist
of falling prayers
Amidst smoke and ash
baby goats arrive!
Small sparks of joy.
Winds shift. Fires grow.
Womens’ rights also
in flames?
thirsty winds
acrobatic fuel for
ravens and embers
Chill winds blow ill
Wildfires spread in the Gila
Schools burning books
Miriam's Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond 