It’s always nice to read unusual haiku/senryu. When poets share something original, they have stronger voices. This is the case with this poem.

It paints a picture of neglect, maybe melancholy, and simplicity. Perhaps the poet noticed his or her cracked fingernail while sorting through the fridge. Though we don’t know exactly what is going on (which is good thing to practice in haiku), the tone of the haiku is that of something gone wrong. It seems that the poet has neglected herself or himself for some reason.

It is an interesting fact that only sandwiches are mentioned. It means that the poet lives a meager existence. So, in the poet’s humble life, something has gone wrong. But using the word “forgotten” I lean towards it being depression–a feeling of loneliness.

The poet envisions the depth of his or her loneliness by the crack on the nail and the amount of forgotten sandwiches. One part is something missing (cracked nail), and the next part is dealing with fullness (many forgotten sandwiches): a strong contrast.

The wording is concise and nicely phrased. I think Yumino wrote a poignant haiku that expressed his or her feelings, and of which we can feel as well.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

amidst
‘smoke on the water’
heron hunts

© Hannes Froehlich (Germany)

Besides the conciseness of language and the image, I like how Hannes played with the phrase in the second line. If you all don’t know, “smoke on the water” is a famous song by the band Deep Purple. So, the second line can have two meanings: the heron could be hunting while this song is playing, or there is actual smoke on water. The quotation marks around it make it even “lighter,” and adds an intriguing effect.

I also like the relaxed pace of the haiku. Often, poets like to cram as much as they can into haiku (including myself). Hannes goes for simplicity, which is a good lesson for us.

The smoke on the water conceals what the heron is hunting for, and maybe there is something spiritual about it as well. The heron could be hunting itself. We may never know. But that is part of the beauty of haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

flower show
the stage was already
set for death

© Edwin Lomere (USA)

This haiku, or perhaps senryu, is open to many interpretations. It could be about the ephemeral nature of flowers, or life in general. It could be about a funeral. It could be how metaphorical coincidences happen, like when someone dies while acting on stage, while flowers were attached to the stage, and the flowers were now something used for an entirely different purpose.

But besides searching for meaning, we get a feeling of dissonance while reading this haiku. I think this is central to the haiku. It creates friction by us reevaluating what beauty is and how that beauty might end up being an instrument of something morbid.

On the technical side, the sound of the haiku is engaging. Edwin wrote a succinct haiku that leaves much to ponder and to feel.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

midday heat
a great eggfly sips
my sweat

© Lucky Triana (Indonesia)

This haiku shows the classical compassion and even irrationality that is the essence of haiku. It also has a strong seasonal reference and a great sense of sound.

The poet is sweating, but the butterfly is taking away her sweat. Though this action is instinctual, there is a sense of compassion in it–which is a paradox that haiku often employs.

“Midday heat” is a common seasonal reference for summer, and summer is a relaxing and joyful time. The act of the butterfly taking away her sweat is an expression of this carefree atmosphere.

I enjoy the naming of this butterfly, as in haiku, giving exact details is often essential to creating meaning and mood.

The sound of “t” works to create the tension of the heat in “heat” “great” and “sweat.” The sweetness of the compassion can be seen through the “s” sounds: “sips” and “sweat.”

I wish I had been there to experience this. A pleasant haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

cherry blossoms
how a street becomes
a car-park

© Eric Lohman (USA)

Lovely! This is a time, in my opinion, that a crafty rhyme can slip in with ‘blossoms’ and ‘becomes’…the syntax leads you smoothly through cherry blossoms and how a street ‘becomes’ (smooth sounds) before abruptly stopping you at ‘car-park’.(harsh sounds)
Having ‘a car-park’ on L3 is so abrupt it forces the reader to go back to the top, re-reading and building a clearer image on every reading…love it!

– Brendon Kent (UK)

To add to this, I love the juxtaposition between the two parts. Seeing the similarity in the way cherry blossoms bloom and the way urban streets fill up with cars is a genius insight. It also makes a harmony between the natural world and human technology.

In terms of sound, “blossoms” and “becomes” has both a pleasant “b” and “o” sounds, which increases the beauty of the haiku.

Lohman could have written much more, but chose to be concise, which is key to writing haiku. Writing about small things in a large way, concisely: an essential art to practice for any haiku poet.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)

all our wars
lost
blossom wind

© Eva Limbach (Germany) (2016)

Every word counts and is powerful in this haiku. The pacing is also effective. Having “lost” as the second line shocks us and makes us stop. The juxtaposition is also effective. Blossoms are beautiful, unlike wars, but both blossoms and wars get lost in the wind: blossoms in natural wind, and wars in the winds of hate, vanity, anger, and jealously.

The big difference is that blossoms are innocent, and though they are spread randomly and carried off, they give no harm. I believe this haiku is a call to be innocent and sweet like blossoms in the winds of life. It also has a distinct feeling, which is important, as haiku are about feeling, ultimately.

This haiku is a bit indescribable, as haiku should be.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (Ukraine)