Upcoming Programs & Events



A 6-Part Video Course on the History and Practice of Writing Haiku

The course will go live on September 12, 2022. During the initial run, there will be regular haiku challenges, Q & A Zoom sessions, and a community-wide Kukai ("haiku party") where participants can share their poems in real-time. After the initial six-week run, the course can be taken at any time, entirely on your own schedule. Click the image above (or go HERE) to see a video summary of the course. To enroll, go HERE.



A One-Hour Webinar Exploring the Basics
of Haiku
(a perfect way to test the waters if you are thinking about other programs)

Writing haiku—three-line poems featuring “season words” that reflect what’s happening in the natural world—can be a fun and enriching way to sharpen your literary skills, express your love of nature and find meaning and creativity in the world around you. Haiku can also be a spiritual practice in itself, aiding in the cultivation of qualities like receptivity, mindfulness, sensitivity and tenderness, as well as a greater awareness of interdependence. Click on the image above (or go HERE) to register.



A Day-Long Workshop on Finding Your Poetic Voice In Collaboration with the Natural World
Saturday, September 10, 2022

This day-long workshop offers a simple introduction to the art of haiku so that poets can begin writing right away. The atmosphere will be friendly, open, and interactive, with an emphasis on using haiku to connect more deeply with ourselves, with one another, and with the Earth. To register, click on the image above, or go HERE. 

10:30 am - 12 pm
2 pm - 3:30 pm
Eastern Time (USA, Canada)
COST: $75



HAIKU—The Master Class 2023
Beginning January 2, 2023

This year-long course, conducted in a private Facebook group, is designed to introduce poets to every aspect of the art of haiku. The curriculum includes:

• 52 Full-Length Weekly Haiku Lessons with discussion among members
• 4 Weekly Haiku Challenges per month
• 1 Kukai Gathering per month
• A one-on-one Weekly Review with Clark via email of up to ten haiku

Please note that the fee for the Master Class includes membership in the Weekly Haiku Challenges with Clark Strand, which is where the community-wide weekly challenges and monthly Kukai will take place.

The 2023 Master Class is limited to 25 participants on a first-come, first serve basis. The fee for the year is $3,000 payable on registration to WOODENBOWL@AOL.COM via PayPal.

If you wish to reserve space now for the 2023 Master Class, you can send a $500 nonrefundable deposit via PayPal to the email address offered above. You will be pre-registered as of payment and can pay the balance by November 1, 2022.

Please note that all fees are non-refundable. If you drop out midway through, you will need to start over in the event you want to complete the training, since this is a very group-oriented activity.

For answers to questions about the Master Class, contact Clark at CLARKSTRAND@AOL.COM.

JULY-AUGUST HAIKU TIP
Essential Point #12: Just the Basics, Please

Our "17 School" is based on the idea that the 5-7-5 form for haiku is basic to its nature. Apart from that form, and a preference for season words, we do not set limits on haiku.

Syllable for syllable, haiku is the most highly contested poetic form in all of literature. From the beginning, it inspired a host of opinions, often disguised as rules. Some of those opinions gained lasting consensus among haiku poets—for instance, that a haiku was better with a season word, or that it should have a compelling turn of thought. Other notions fell by the wayside, passing out of fashion over time.

Only one so-called “rule” for haiku has remained stable over the course of its long history, and that is its 5-7-5 syllable form. Poets have occasionally tweaked that form by a syllable or two, and there have been modern movements to abandon it, writing meterless “free verse” haiku instead. But, always, it returns. There seems to be something inherently satisfying about the 5-7-5 pattern that makes it durable over time. Our 17 School grew out of the conviction that free verse haiku is unlikely to gain broad acceptance in English, a language where majority of speakers (over 99% by one estimate*) believe a haiku to be a poem written in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively.

So, what makes the traditional form so appealing? Is it the tri-part structure? Or maybe the fact that 5, 7, and 17 are all prime numbers? No one knows for certain. No matter the reason, capturing a momentary thought or experience in that form is so intrinsically satisfying that it entices people to return to it again and again.

Because haiku is still relatively new in English, it is hard to say what will become of it.  Poets have already used it for so many purposes. Will it become a vessel for satire—a bit like the limerick? Or will it build off the Western tradition of the epigram, those short, pithy aphorisms that express an idea in a clever or amusing way?

Our 17 School takes a “just the basics” approach to haiku, resisting the temptation to set limits on what it can accomplish in English. As it develops, haiku in English will inevitably depart from Japanese haiku in style and tradition. How else could it follow the poetic contours of its own becoming? As a school of haiku, we seek to explore and inform those contours. But we have no wish to control them.

* See "Magic–Mystery–Music: The Persistence of 5–7–5 in Haiku," by Charles Trumbull, Frogpond, Issue 37:1.

—Clifford Rames & Clark Strand, Editors
 

This Month's Feature

Haiku in a Time of War: The Internment Camp Poets
by Susan Polizzotto, 17 Features Editor


Members of a Japanese-American family awaiting re-location to a camp.
Photo: Dorothea Lange, Hayward, California, May 8, 1942

With war raging in Ukraine and a surge of haiku being written about it, I’ve been reflecting on the role of haiku in wartime. Pulling a thread from the broad tapestry of that subject, this article focuses on haiku written by people incarcerated in internment camps in North America during World War II. 

In 1942, after Japan's attacks on Pearl Habor, Hong Kong, and Malaya, the United States and Canada declared war on Japan. Anti-Japanese sentiment that had already been simmering escalated to a boil. The governments of both countries ordered Japanese immigrants and their descendants to relocate to internment camps, authorized by presidential Executive Order 9066 in the U.S. and by order-in-council 1665 of the War Measures Act in Canada. Deprived of their liberty, livelihoods, and homes, about one hundred fifty thousand people of Japanese ancestry, including citizens by birth, were confined for the duration of the war in places like Tule Lake, California, and Tashme, British Columbia. Enduring extreme hardship and injustice, some wrote poetry to document their lives in the camps and express feelings too painful or perilous to state in prose. They formed haiku clubs or continued participating in clubs and groups they had belonged to before the war.

Their poems were occasionally published in camp newspapers and newsletters. Notable examples of haiku diaries and anthologies have also survived. Usually written in Japanese, they remained untranslated and in private hands for decades. Some were inherited by children or grandchildren who spoke only English and couldn’t translate their contents. These records seemed destined to remain unread—sorrowful chapters of history confined to the past.

That changed when an American poet and former internee at Tule Lake decided to compile an anthology of internment camp poetry. Violet Kazue de Cristoforo felt compelled to translate and share her haiku and those of other internees. Encouraged by her second husband, a U.S. Army officer she met in post-war Japan, she spent over forty years on the project. Her anthology, titled May Sky: There is Always Tomorrow, was published in 1997.

Born Kazue Yamane in 1917 in Hawaii, Violet was living in Fresno, California, with her first husband at the onset of the war. In 1942, they were forcibly relocated along with their children and his elderly parents. She gave birth to their third child in an internment camp. After her husband was labeled an agitator and sent to a different camp, she became the sole caregiver for the children and her in-laws.

Violet used poetry to channel her grief. On whatever scraps of paper she could find, she wrote kaiko, a type of free-form haiku in a single line in Japanese. She later translated them into three-line poems in English. Violet loved haiku’s simplicity, how it evinced a range of emotions—pain, betrayal, hope—in a nuanced way. Notice how she couches her feelings with natural images in these two poems, letting them speak for what lies within her heart.

          muraski usuki kakitsu hagakure ni oreshi ichiri

               Faint purple iris
               One broken flower
               hidden under a leaf

          shokubutsu hinjaku to omou soko koko natsuno hatake

               Vegetation seems meager
               here and there,
               summer garden plots

Dr. Satsuki Ina, an American psychotherapist, writer, and filmmaker, was born in the Tule Lake internment camp in 1944. Years after her family was released, she discovered letters her parents had exchanged while they were living in separate camps. They inspired her to explore their life stories, make meaning of tragedy, and heal from the trauma that began before her birth. Her father kept a haiku journal which is currently being translated and will be published soon under the title, Snow Country Prison: The Haiku Poetry of Itaru Ina. Four hundred poems are included in the collection, two of which I’ve taken the liberty of translating in the 5-7-5 form.

          kanshi no me yurumu shasô ni tsuki suzette

               the camp warden’s eyes
               blur as the train windows pass –
               a cool, composed moon

          wata no hana okata wata ni natsu fukaki

               the cotton blossoms
               have ripened into cotton,
               as summer deepens

Canadian haiku poets Torao Takeda and Sukeo “Sam” Sameshima continued writing haiku while interned at the Tashme internment camp near Hope, British Columbia. Haiku was a lifelong practice for both of them. They had belonged to clubs before the war and continued to teach and write haiku after they were released.

Takeda, who wrote under the pen name Koson, meaning “Lonely Village,” was the sensei, or teacher, for the club. Sameshima’s penname was Mokujin. He lived to be 101 years old. Just prior to his death in 2017, he donated two poetry anthologies that had been written at Tashme to the archives of the Nikkei National Museum and Cultural Center.

Yamabiko (Mountain Echo) and Reiko (Spiritual Light) contain approximately 600 haiku written by various members of the Tashme club and are often signed with pen names. A team of translators, Jaqueline Pearce, John Pierre Antonio and Michiko Kihira, have translated about half of the haiku. Here is a sampling. Each poem records a personal experience happening in a single moment of time. Notice how the emotions are implied but not stated.

Three haiku by Koson:

          sanran to zushi no hi yurete haru samuki

               flickering flame
               the Buddhist altar shining
               cold spring

          renpo no yamioshikaburi tō kawazu

               mountain range
               covered in darkness
               distant frog sound

          hei wagun ranchi no natsuhi tsunde saru

               a loaded hay wagon
               leaving the ranch
               summer light

And three by Mokujin:

          fuyu no hi no tana no furuhon mitsumeiru

               winter lamplight
               I gaze at old books
               on the shelf

          roji idete tu-lipu no hi no arinikeri

               leaving the alley
               suddenly, tulips
               in the sunshine

          shimo no hana jitensha muzan ni horare ari

               frost flowers
               a forgotten bicycle
               left behind

Some of the current wartime haiku I’ve come across lately capture events and emotions in a blunt, literal way. I’ve written haiku like this about Ukraine, but while the approach feels cathartic, the poems sound like news articles. They communicate, but don’t soar. Reading haiku from the 1940s written in North American internment camps emphasizes that poetry is a language of images. Images transcend literalism, grab readers' hearts, and stimulate their imaginations. In haiku practice, if we master the art of the image our poems will soar.

Highlights from the Weekly Challenge Group
 
Each month "17" features four haiku with commentary from our online Facebook community, Weekly Haiku Challenge with Clark Strand. To learn more about the group and how to join it, go HERE. —Suzanne Tyrpak, 17 Highlights Editor

"baby's breath"    summer / plants

welcome home bouquet
awake all night listening
for the baby’s breath
 
—Dana Clark-Millar
 
A “welcome home bouquet” is both a blessing and a protective talisman.
 
One may imagine new parents falling into exhausted slumber after hours of labor. But sleeplessness often accompanies that homecoming. A newborn’s breath feels tenuous and fragile, like the flower named after it. During those first days it is natural to listen for it.
 
Breath is the first sign of life we manifest when arriving in this world, and the last sign when we depart. The poet captures all of this with eloquent simplicity. First, we see the flower. Then the child. And then the child as a flower.
 
—Clark Strand

"beachcombing / gathering shells"    summer / humanity

while beachcombers sleep
empty shells tell their stories
to the dark ocean
 
—Valerie Rosenfeld
 
Like journeying through sleep, this poem’s soothing sensuality comes through like whispers of receding waves.
 
The beachcombers have gone home, taking their shovels, prods, and collection baskets. It’s now safe for seashells to gather along the shore and share their stories.
 
Empty shells, upturned like little oval mouths frozen open, seem to speak. Without mentioning sound, the poet invites us to imagine the soft gurgle of waves, the popping of bubbles percolating in the sand, successfully creating the hypnotizing and dreamlike qualities of the beach at night.
 
The descriptions “empty shells” and “dark ocean” add poignancy to this beautiful haiku.
 
—Clifford Rames

"cross breeze"    summer / humanity

The gentle cross breeze
Extinguishing the candle
Brings perfect darkness
 
—Louis Muglia
 
A candle is blown out by a cross breeze. “Gentle” contrasts with the decisive strength of the last two lines. The breeze doesn’t just blow out the candle, but completely extinguishes its light.
 
Within that dark room made suddenly cooler by the breeze, we experience a chill—followed by a feeling of the other senses “reaching out” into the darkness to see if there is something, or somebody, there.
 
In Japanese haiku, such poems are said to evoke yugen, a feeling of mystery. “A perfect darkness.” What does that even mean? Completely black? Or perfect in some deeper way?
 
—Clark Strand

"midsummer"    mid-June / the season

deluding ourselves
that this could last forever –
midsummer evening
 
—Jonathan Ayelett
 
Caught up in the romantic magic of a midsummer’s evening, the poet yearns for the moment to last forever. The poem’s first word acknowledges this desire as a fantasy, yet the poet lingers in hope. But no matter how much he hopes the beauty of this time will endure, it is soon gone.
 
This heartfelt haiku eloquently captures the poignancy of such precious moments.
 
I’m reminded of Emily Dickenson’s poem, “Forever – Is Composed of Nows.” Its first lines are:
 
Forever – is composed of Nows –
‘Tis not a different time –
Except for Infiniteness –
 
—Becka Chester

“fourth of July / Independence Day”    July 4 / Observances
 
a ten year old child
of refugees, lifts a Fourth
of July sparkler…
 
—Shirley Brown
 
Resettlement is often the last resort for people who have been forced from their homes by conflict or war. The first choice of most refugees would be to go home.
 
This haiku’s staggered phrasing and slightly awkward rhythm may at first seem distracting, but they accentuate a refugee’s precarious situation.
 
On one of America’s most significant and symbolic holidays, Independence Day, a child of refugees tentatively lifts a sparkler, unsure if he/she has yet earned the privilege to participate in American life.
 
What will the child’s next decade bring? Many hurdles, surely. But also new opportunities, hopes, and dreams.
 
—Clifford Rames
 
“dust devil”    summer / the landscape
 
the dust devil lets
something radiant swirl up,
the core of itself
 
—Kelly Shaw
 
I love this poem’s philosophical and imaginative qualities. I’m speculating that the poet inquired, What lies at the core of a dust devil? The obvious answer is nothing—it’s a column of hot air.
 
However, the poet visualizes a dust devil as a sentient being, possessed of self-awareness, and a vibrant inner life. “Radiant core” might describe inner awakening or enlightenment.
 
Who or what are we at the core of our being—beyond the periphery of our physical attributes? This is a vital question, and difficult to answer. Only in a haiku like this can it be stated simply and elegantly.
 
—Susan Polizzotto
 
“loon”    summer / animals
 
 the cry of the loon,
engraved on the lake water,
vanishes with dawn
 
—Stephanie Ayazi
 
The phrasing is elegant. The first image is auditory, the second visual. The last line blends the two senses together in a moment of synesthesia leaving us with a puzzling question: What does it mean for the loon’s cry to “engrave” itself on the water?
 
This technique is often used in Japanese haiku. A misperception momentarily breaks down our ordinary framework for understanding the world.
 
Awake before dawn, the poet hears a loon crying. The cries vanish as the sun comes up, and the water becomes perfectly still. Did the loon’s cries cause the ripples? That question lingers along the edges of this wonderful poem.
 
—Clark Strand
 
“sandcastle”    summer / humanity
 
sandcastle at night –
the pale wandering moonlight
takes up residence
 
—Becka Chester
 
This haiku is worthy of Yosa Buson, who enjoyed writing imaginatively romantic verses that evoke bygone places and times.
 
Following high tide, someone has built a sandcastle. With the waters now in retreat, the structure is likely to last for hours—perhaps until dawn. But the castle has been abandoned, left to moonlight and damp night air.
 
Over the image of a sandcastle the poet has superimposed an actual castle—unoccupied, forgotten, perhaps verging on ruin. Twelve hours becomes twelve centuries.
 
Most compelling is the ghostly image of moonlight “taking up residence,” as if the poet had witnessed long-lost spirits of the dead.
 
—Clark Strand

Season Words for the Weekly Haiku Challenge

For those belonging to the Weekly Challenge Group, it can be helpful to know what words are coming up over the next month, but we encourage all of our subscribers to write and share haiku on these themes. In this way, we can begin to follow the seasons together—spring, summer, fall, and winter—and share the joy of haiku together as a community.
—Becka Chester, 17 Season Word Editor

July 25 Season Word    “sandcastle,” all summer / humanity
 
The Britannica Dictionary defines sand castle (sandcastle) as “a small model of a castle or other building that is made with wet sand on a beach.” As families crowd sandy shores during the summer months, the building of sandcastles is often a shared activity of children and adults.
 
In Haiku World, William J. Higginson writes, “From the simple tower molded in a beach pail to fanciful creations for summer contests…the vulnerability of sand castles to wind and tide makes them ephemeral and adds to their appeal. The best sand for building on the beach occurs at or just below the high-tide line.”
 
In 2016, Beyonce recorded her song “Sandcastles,” the first lines of which are as follows:
 
We built sand castles that washed away
I made you cry when I walked away
Oh, and although I promised that I couldn’t stay, baby
Every promise don’t work out that way, oh, babe…
 
August 1 Season Word    “jasmine,” late summer / plants
 
A plant in the olive family with climbing branches, but no tendrils, jasmine produces white and yellow flowers along with small two-lobed black berries. There are over two-hundred species of jasmine. In Haiku World, Higginson specifies, “In haikai, (jasmine) refers to common jasmine or jessamine, which originated in Persia…and the Himalayas and has spread both east and west.”
 
Jasmine has long been symbolic of sensual love, purity, and feminine power: sprigs of the blossoms have been used to honor the Virgin Mary, the Buddhist goddess Tara, and the Hindu goddess Shri Dugadevi. With its intoxicating fragrance, many perfumes contain its aroma, including the famous Chanel No. 5.
 
The French Surrealist poet, Andre Breton, wrote his poem, “Always for the First Time,” several lines of which are as follows:
 
…It's a field of jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of Grasse
With the diagonal slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised…
 
August 8 Season Word    “hammock,” all summer / humanity
 
Webster’s Dictionary describes a hammock as “a swinging couch or bed usually made of netting or canvas and slung by cords from supports at each end.” The actual word came to us, through Spanish, from the Taino word meaning “stretch of cloth.” Christopher Columbus wrote in the chronicle of his first visit to the Bahamian Island of Guanahani (San Salvador), “A great many Indians in canoes came to the ship today for the purpose of bartering their cotton, and hamacas, or nets, in which they sleep.”
 
For centuries, hammocks have been used on sailing ships as sleeping quarters for the crew. They can still be found on submarine vessels today, some suspended directly above torpedoes for spatial economy. As they swing with the motion of the seas, many sailors still find them more comfortable than a conventional, fixed bed. 
 
Campers will often bring hammocks with them as a light-weight bed for sleeping out in the open. Today, hammocks are a symbol of the laid-back, leisure days of the summer months.
 
August 15 Season Word    “melon,” late summer / plants
 
Webster’s defines melon as “any of various typically sweet gourds (such as a muskmelon or watermelon) usually eaten raw as fruits.” In Haiku World, Higginson writes the melon “[u]sually refers to muskmelons, varieties of the reticulatus melon group, which may also be erroneously called cantaloupe in [the] U.S.”
 
In the fourteenth century, samurai warriors often gave melons as gifts to their shoguns (military leaders) as a sign of loyalty. The tradition of melon-as-gift continues in Japan to this day. Through the course of their careers, many Japanese farmers strive to master the art of cultivating the perfect fruit, many of which can fetch as much as several thousand dollars each. In a 2019 auction, two melons from the island of Hokkaido sold for just over $45,000.
 
In 1971, Sylvia Plath’s joyful poem, “Fiesta Melons,” was published posthumously, a few of lines of which are quoted below:
 
In Benidorm there are melons,
Whole donkey-carts full

Of innumerable melons,
Ovals and balls,

Bright green and thumpable
Laced over with stripes

Of turtle-dark green.
Choose an egg-shape, a world-shape,

Bowl one homeward to taste
In the whitehot noon…
 
August 22 Season Word    “new moon,” late summer-early autumn / the skies
 
A new moon occurs when the moon's phase is in conjunction with the sun so that its dark side is toward the earth; the moon is actually invisible. However, in Japan, the thin crescent that shows at the beginning of the moon’s cycle is what is considered a new moon. Every month has at least one new moon, while occasionally a month will have two. So, what makes the new moon at this time of the year so special?
 
Higginson asks and answers this same question: “Why limit this new moon of the coming HARVEST MOON of mid autumn? Because that harvest moon is so anticipated that those of a deep haikai sensibility count the days of the waxing moon, from this “starting moon” through the growing crescents of the SECOND-DAY MOON, THIRD-DAY MOON, and so on right up to WAITING EVENING the night before the ultimate full (HARVEST MOON) of the year.”
 
Matsuo Basho expressed anticipation of the new moon in this haiku:
 
It was the new moon! 
Since then I waited – tonight
I have my reward!
 
September 5 Season Word    “state or county fair,” late summer-early autumn / observances
 
In Haiku World, Higginson describes state fair as “An annual competitive exhibit of farm and home products, with prizes awarded for the best produce and livestock, best pies and canned good, etc. Dates vary by state. There are also county fairs, which usually precede state fairs.”
 
Typically held in late summer or early fall, state fairs will often have as entrants the winners from the much smaller county fairs held throughout the state. In addition to farmers and homemakers competing, there are junior division events in which 4-H and FFA youngsters can compete amongst themselves.
 
In 1945, Rogers and Hammerstein composed the music for the film, “State Fair,” some of the lyrics to its eponymous song is as follows:
 
Our State Fair is a great state fair
Don't Miss it don't even be late
(our state fair is great)
It's dollars to doughnuts at our state fair
It's the best state fair in the state
 
September 12 Season Word    “milkweed,” all autumn / plants
 
Higginson describes milkweed as “a large genus of North American plants that have a milky fluid in their hollow stalks. ‘Milkweed’ in haikai refers to the seed-bearing milkweed pods—with bright white, silky hair—of common milkweed…and showy milkweed. Both form large pods after the summer bloom period, sending their seed aloft with the pods split open in autumn.”
 
The regeneration of this plant is crucial to the survival of the monarch butterfly. Their larvae (caterpillars) can eat only the leaves of this plant. The deliberate replanting of milkweed in California and other states has brought the creature back from the brink of extinction. In one county in California, the population of western monarchs in 2021 soared to 100,000, up from just 2,000 the previous year.
 
The writer, Stephen King, once made this comparison with milkweed pods: Dreams on waking were like…the split-open husks of milkweed pods, dead shells where life had briefly swirled in furious but fragile storm-systems.
 
September 19 Season Word    “sandpiper,” late summer – early autumn / animals
 
There are over eighty different species of this shorebird in existence around the globe, and most have brown, tan, or grey plumage on their upper body, with cream or white feathers on the lower part of their frame. Most sandpipers are a teardrop shape which tapers at the tail and long legs for wading in water. Their size ranges from four inches long up to two feet long.
 
The majority of sandpipers are carnivores, consuming invertebrates such as sand crabs, snails, shrimp, clams, and insects. Some species use their beaks as a deep probe into the sand, while others utilize their bill as a scoop while running along shallow water. Watching a small flock dine at the ocean’s edge can be amusing, as the birds move in concert with each other along the sand, scurrying on their tiny legs to outrun the waves.  
 
The American poet, Elizabeth Bishop, described the intense focus of these birds in her poem, “The Sandpiper:”
 
…The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn’t tell you which.
His beak is focused; he is preoccupied,
.
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!...
 

Kool ‘Ku News
 
   Haiku is the most popular form of poetry in the world. That’s why it so often appears in popular culture. Here are some of the poems that made the news in our online community—plus haiku-themed special mentions, news items, contest announcements, and more.  – Clifford Rames, 17 News Editor

Kukai Results—JUNE 2022

A Kukai is a monthly haiku gathering where poets anonymously submit 3-5 poems for commentary by their peers. Participants vote for the five haiku they liked the best from those submitted and then briefly explain what they liked about them. This Kukai was conducted by the WEEKLY HAIKU CHALLENGE with Clark Strand group on Facebook.

Below is the poem that won the most votes. There was one in first place with 6 votes, four in second place with 5 votes and four in third place with 4 votes.

FIRST PLACE HONORS (6 votes)

watching sheep watch me
each one of us questioning
what I’m doing here
—Dana Clark-Millar

Susan Polizzotto: “Exactly how I felt when the sheep looked me in the eye on the farm where I stayed last summer. Love the haiku humor!”

Stefanie Ayazi: “Who of us has not had the same experience. I agree with Susan—perfect haiku humor.”

Lynda Zwinger: “I love the humor, and I have been side-eyed by sheep, who clearly knew what I should be doing.”

Jonathan Aylett: “Funny and profound.”

Jennifer Howse: “I really like how this haiku spirals in on itself!”

Resa Alboher: “I love the comedy of this particular posing of this existential question with the sheep posing this question too!”

Kukai Results—JULY 2022

Below is the poem that won the most votes. There was one in first place with six votes in first place, one with five votes in second place and four with four votes in third place. 

Congratulations to our amazing poets from both month's kukai!

FIRST PLACE HONORS (6 votes)

When the west wind tapped
my window, I saw father
riding on a star.
—Sandra Filippelli

Marcia Burton: “The magic in this draws me in. Beautiful.”

Stefanie Ayazi “Wonderful way of describing the sensation of a visiting spirit.”

Suzanne Tyrpak: “Wistful and magical.”

Clifford Rames: “Magical and beautiful. What a wonderful way to remember her father, and how thoughtful of her father to tap on the window so that the poet can see his spirit soar. We should all be so lucky!”

Kelly Shaw: “Such a nice revelation of the magic that's always around but often isn't seen unless we are nudged. A striking image and message.”

Dana Clark-Millar: “The wind is always tapping, more like pounding, on my windows and calling me to look out. Love the imagery here.”

Results of the JUNE 2022 Tricycle Monthly Haiku Challenge

“Haiku is the one poetic form in all of world literature that concerns itself primarily with Nature. We may use haiku to express broad range of thoughts and feelings. But, in a formal haiku, self-expression is always channeled through images drawn from one of the four seasons of the year.” —Clark Strand

Congratulations to poet, Kelly Shaw, who in this winning “plum” haiku “embraces the fullness of a summer day like the lips of a lover—in the act of eating a single plum.”

inside of the plum
the ocean, the horizon
and midsummer’s day
—Kelly Shaw

To see all of the JUNE results, honorable mentions, and full commentaries, click HERE.

Results of the JULY 2022 Tricycle Monthly Haiku Challenge

“The poet Kai Hasegawa (b. 1954) once suggested that ‘kokoro’ (‘sincere feeling’ or ‘heart’) is the quality most lacking in contemporary haiku. According to Hasegawa, the modern emphasis on realism has resulted in a form of poetry that is “only about things.” This was not the case with the winning and honorable mention poems for last month’s haiku challenge. Our poets wrote about their subjects with feeling, crafting poems that used objective imagery to convey wonder, awe, and an intimate sense of connection with their fellow creatures from the natural world.” —Clark Strand

Congratulations to poet, Kathy Fusho Nolan, who in this winning “snake” haiku “captured an uncanny moment of oneness with a garter snake as she let it cross her open palm..”

A garter snake’s skin:
surprisingly cool and dry—
Palm up, belly down
—Kathy Fusho Nolan

To see all of the JULY results, honorable mentions, and full commentaries, click HERE.

Tricycle Monthly Haiku Challenge

For more information, including how to submit to the challenges, click HERE.

Don’t Forget: Tricycle now has its own private Facebook group, the Tricycle Haiku Challenge—a place to connect with other participants, respond to calls for submissions, discuss the winning poems, and ask questions. You may request to join the group HERE.

Haiku Success Stories

More and more haiku written by our Weekly Challenge members are finding a place in the wider world. Below is a selection of this month’s publishing successes and competition wins by our members. Enjoy!

The Haiku Pond Podcast - Spirits of Ancient Stardust
Congratulations to Dana Clark-Millar, whose haiku on the theme of “spirits” was featured on The Haiku Pond podcast. To hear the podcast and view Dana’s poem, click on the link above.

Poets for Peace
Congratulations to Jonathan Aylett, whose haiku sequence on Ukraine was included in the “Poets for Peace” Facebook Anthology.

Drifting Sands Haibun - Issue 16
Congratulations again to Jonathan Aylett, this time for his haibun published in Issue 16 of Drifting Sands Haibun (pg. 57).

Upcoming Competitions and Submission Deadlines

Seeds From a Birch Tree
Clark Strand has invited poets from members of the Master Class and Weekly Challenge Group to submit 5-10 haiku for consideration for the 25th Anniversary Edition of his definitive book, Seeds From a Birch Tree. Clark is particularly interested in haiku that are fine examples of shasei or the sketch from life. The best of the submissions will be considered for publication in the new editions of Seeds. Please submit poems to clarkstrand@aol.com by September 10.

San Francisco International Haiku, Senryu, and Tanka Contest
Sponsored by the Haiku Poets of Northern California, this competition is open to everyone. The closing date for submissions is not until October 31 2022, so you have plenty of time to polish up your poems. Please see the HPNC website for complete guidelines and submission instructions.

Haiku In the News

Society of Classical Poets: Haiku Competition 2022
While the deadline for submissions (August 15th) has come and gone, we hope that some of you had the chance to enter poems. While we wait for the 2022 results (which we expect to announce in the next newsletter), here is a review of the 2021 results.

Tricycle Buddhist Review: The Haibun Lens
A brief tutorial in the the Japanese literary form of haibun. Pioneered by Bashō, haibun combines prose and haiku in order to flesh out or more powerfully evoke the emotion and/or spiritual journey that inspired the poem.

Atlas Obscura: Basho Memorial Statue. Tokyo, Japan
Looking for a new haiku destination? Heritage Garden, located in the Fukagawa neighborhood Tokyo, Japan, where Matsuo Bashō is believed to have lived from 1680 to 1682, is now also the home of a new life-size statue of the haiku master seated on a zabuton cushion. The effigy takes its inspiration from the portrait of Bashō drawn by one of his patrons, Sugiyama Sanpū.

Lithub.com: On Matsuo Bashō, Haiku’s Greatest Master, from the History of Literature Podcast with Jacke Wilson
Speaking of Bashō, The History of Literature host Jacke Wilson takes a fresh look at some of the most compelling examples of creative genius the world has ever known. In this new episode he examines the life and work of haiku master, Matsuo Bashō, and “sorts through his thoughts on the uses (and potential misuses) of the haiku form.” Along the way he seeks to answer the questions: “What makes much of it so bad? And how does that differ from what is truly great?”

Yay Cork: Haiku on Sherkin Island
All over Sherkin Island, Ireland, a mysterious trail of haiku poems written on colored paper have been appearing on hedgerows, fence posts and gateways, fluttering in the sea breeze. Turns out, it’s a playful new initiative by the Sherkin Island Haiku Group to celebrate the release of their new book, Light Between Seasons—A Year of Haiku Poetry from Sherkin Island (see below).

Haiku Book Picks:

Light Between Seasons — A Year of Haiku Poetry from Sherkin Island by The Sherkin Island Haiku Group (Sherkin Island Development Society; 2022)
Back in September 2020, we reported on the publication of Together Apart—Haiku from a Locked Down Sherkin Island by the Sherkin Island Haiku Group. Our Irish haiku friends have done it again with the release of their latest collection, Light Between Seasons—A Year of Haiku Poetry from Sherkin Island. All proceeds from the sale of the book will contribute to a fund for the purchase of Sherkin Island’s former national school building for community use.

Haiku Book Review

Poetry and Zen: Letters and Uncollected Writings of R. H. Blyth By R. H. Blyth/Edited by Norman Waddell (Shambhala Publications; 2022)
“A digestible yet sophisticated selection of the unknown Blyth, who now presents himself to us, ready to be admired, or at least understood,” writes Raymond Lam in his review of Poetry and Zen: Letters and Uncollected Writings of R.H. Blyth for BuddhistDoor Global.

Quote of the Month

“Haiku is not a shriek, a howl, a sigh, or a yawn; rather, it is the deep breath of life.” ―Santoka Taneda, Mountain Tasting: Haiku and Journals of Santoka Taneda (Weatherhill; 1980)

Haiku Poets Respond

A haiku by Jonathan Aylett, in response to the news that the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures is apologizing—50 years later—to Sacheen Littlefeather (now 75 years old) for the treatment she received during the 1973 Oscars, when she was booed, heckled, and harassed for protesting Native American mistreatment in the movies.



Kool ‘Ku Comics & Memes

This month’s Kool Ku’ comic comes courtesy of Go Comics.com, on behalf of Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/calvin-and-hobbes-by-bill-watterson-for-may-26-2020--429108670748953156/)