noh flute
the sparkle of sunlight
on water
Haiku Dialogue: Poet’s Choice, Suchness
Troutswirl, The Haiku Foundation Blog 28 Aug 2019
https://www.thehaikufoundation.org/2019/08/28/haiku-dialogue-poets-choice-suchness/?fbclid=IwAR2_9ZZmBI0RmtkCzRxZVUSrTut-1d6s_V6YsulYfJIbkTyRlHeAHBp7gjk
It’s an honour to see my haiku and tanka featured in Poets Salon with the theme Wild, along with some great poets.
incoming tide
the eager thrust
of a seagull’s wings
Ο
slow river
daffodils nod
at a passing swan
Ο
sunset walk
the passion
of a rambling rose
Ο
yellow scorpion
a kestrel’s wings blister
in the heat
Ο
a blackbird
tucks in its shadow
autumn twilight
Ο
only we
can hear the wild music
of the sea
we lose ourselves
in a swirl of birds
Ο
lured by the scent
of wild garlic
deep in the woods
I am lost
but for the river’s song
Ο
white parasol opening wild morning glory
Poets Salon – Wild, 14 August 2019
Hosted by Kath Abela Wilson
Broken Links
Sid has been on his own since Sylvia left. He’s always talking about going places when he’s fixed his motorbike. He has plotted his route on a map in red marker. First, the Portsmouth to Cherbourg ferry, then south through France, across the Pyrenees, down through eastern Spain and into Morocco. Then he would go along the East coast of Africa. He tugs on a spliff. Summer is nearly over. I ask him what happened to his plans to join friends at an ashram in India. He says there are too many war zones in the way. He would have to leave the bike and take a train to Moscow . . . or take a plane . . . but he really wants to go by motorcycle. But the bike has been in pieces for weeks—the chain in a plastic bowl soaking in something to get the gunk out; tyreless wheels in the hallway; black oil everywhere. He rubs a ginger-stubbled chin with oil-stained fingers and mutters about camshafts, cables and constant depression carburettor needles.
autumn breeze
the migration
of swallows
Narrow Road vol 8 August 2019
https://www.scribd.com/document/421603789/Narrow-Road-Vol-8-August-19?fbclid=IwAR1Ve7Zj-RbegHFyaAC3qYW1irR3Qr5Q-PnTzxuCeKEZQNe6vMdVXFlTaP4#download
cherry blossoms
an old man leans
on his cane
The First Morioka Haiku Contest
honourable mention
https://morioka-haiku.jp/wp/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/a6ccfdd5c23ef8a50188ee924c1994ab.pdf?fbclid=IwAR1eR_HE8Z2PUzXHnbIN57z3g7Rxd6Ce672eCsmEEqKmTfOlpltv4W1Tnx4
time travel
the perfume
of a pink rose
Frogpond 42.2 2019
http://www.hsa-haiku.org/frogpond/2019-issue42-2/index.html
2019 Marlene Mountain Memorial Contest
2019 Marlene Mountain Memorial Contest
Third Place:
bipolar mother’s monochrome smile
Judges Commentary:
Maternal mental illness is a subject that seems to be hushed up in our culture.
Especially in today’s mommy wars where mothers are pitted against each
other in seemingly every way: who has the cleanest house, who breastfed the
longest, who birthed without medication, who provides organic home cooked
meals three times a day, who stays home, who works outside the house,
whose children watch the least amount of TV … and on and on it goes. When
under all the pressure, womxn have an identity that goes far beyond the role
of “mother”. There are hopes, dreams, goals, desires and personal struggles
existing alongside all those parenting responsibilities, which is uncomfortable
for some to accept.
The thought of a mother struggling with bipolar disorder, or any mental
illness such as depression or anxiety, while trying to care for her children is
heartbreaking and more common than people realize. So much is said here in
so few words. An entire world is laid out bare of a mother doing her best to
get help but in the process is stripped of her personality, as it so often happens
with mood stabilizers, antidepressants, and antipsychotics. Her children have
lost her and she herself.
This monoku struck a chord with both of us not only for the subject matter
but for its craftsmanship. In this piece there is room left for the reader to
decide whether the poet’s mother is bipolar or the poet is the bipolar mother,
as the senryu can be broken up (bipolar / mother’s monochrome smile) or
read as all one phrase. Although, had she used “the” at the beginning ([the]
bipolar mother’s monochrome smile), it would have solidified one meaning
and you wouldn’t get all that blank space we love in Japanese short forms.
What a difference one word can make.
A poignant and timely senryu for today as mental health awareness is
ever-increasing as is the fight to keep medical care available to all.
https://docs.wixstatic.com/ugd/f4c0ea_ded1742ee13e43ad824263b1fb87c66c.pdf?fbclid=IwAR3dwO5Ahxgvat5soGhLMlEO7e8azZyWRIIz2A2AyRLoQg-L99qPleMBKcI