soft orange leaves—
how weightless she feels
in my arms

— Anthony Lusardi (USA)
Dedicated to Remi June
Presence, issue #79, July 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The open line allows me to pause for a while as it reflects a unique yet subtle side of autumn. Soft orange leaves make me think of not only the texture of leaves but also the time as well which raises some questions i.e. are the leaves soft because they are wet either due to dewdrops or raindrops? Are they on the ground or half-buried? Are they still hanging from the tree or stuck in the branches? What orange colour is it? The em dash makes the leaves significant in this poem but there is still a mystery about the details. 

The second line is a shift from nature to personal sentiments, where the poet creates a unique bond between the transformation of nature and personal thoughts and feelings. ‘How weightless she feels’ could reflect weakness, withdrawal, hopelessness, prolonged illness, near-death experiences, or a lack of interest. It seems the person is not feeling well and is ready to depart like soft orange leaves that are open to be annihilated or buried. The word ‘feels’ perhaps alludes to the poet not being sure about their feelings or the real state of mind of the person. The poet is sharing emotions or anticipating the future of this relationship that may be guessed from nature where orange leaves are destined to die. It is sheer hopelessness and readiness to accept the bitter reality of detachment and departure of a loved one. 

The last line shows the significance of the poet’s association with the person being mentioned where he tries to be protective and supportive, providing comfort to the person at this stage. 

This haiku is a beautiful example of a strong and subtle bond between nature and humanity. I liked the way the poet used a specific colour of leaf to project his thoughts and feelings and also left room for others to relate their life experiences with such examples from nature. 

call to prayers
the vastness
of domed desert

— Douglas J. Lanzo (USA)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An interesting juxtaposition between sound and silence, and between the limited body & mind and the vast desert. This haiku could perhaps have a kind of haunting quality. How many of our prayers are answered? Perhaps the deep silence of meditation is the highest form of prayer. From one editor’s view, my only suggestion would be to consider adding “a” before “domed.” An interesting haiku that leads us into contemplation and a deeper silence.

frosty dawn —
the metallic taste
of her lipstick

— Minh-Triêt Pham (France)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The first line sets the kigo in either winter or late autumn. Frost commonly looks lovely at dawn, with the sun slightly touching it and making it glitter in soft light. Yet, it can also be a reminder of a harsh reality.

This dual tone in the first line is juxtaposed with the irony of lipstick having a metallic taste. Though the last two lines are romantically inclined, there is also a touch of alarm. A lipstick with a metallic taste could indicate the presence of metal-based pigments that might not be healthy. The metallic taste could also be a sign of myriad medical issues, such as diabetes, liver issues, cancer, and more. So, the juxtaposition could be saying that a frosty dawn could be the same or similar to kissing your partner and having a metallic taste to something usually regarded as romantic. All this makes for an intriguing toriawase.

Looking at the more technical side of this haiku, the poet uses a dash as an approximation of a kireji. For me, it solidifies the seriousness and starkness of the moment. The euphony of this haiku is also important, in my opinion, with the letter “t” making a crackling sound and the letter “l” projecting strength. The haiku is also written in a rhythm corresponding to traditional Japanese standards with its short/long/short structure. Finally, the simplicity of language and brevity displayed matches the tradition of the genre.

Overall, I enjoy how the poet takes two “ordinary” events and compares them to create a “third part” of the haiku, where our imagination conjures myriad meanings that are personal yet connected to nature.

Royalty-free art without artist name