Haiku by Kavita Ratna, Quamrul Hassan, and Mikō

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

mountain peaks
inside my shoe
a pebble

by Kavita Ratna (India)
published in Cold Moon Journal, August 2024

Commentary by Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening image, mountain peaks, presents a vast and expansive landscape, suggesting a range of mountains viewed together rather than a single peak. It also leaves the exact nature of the mountains open to interpretation—whether they are high, steep, snow-capped, distant, or being viewed from the summit. The second image, inside my shoe, creates a striking shift in perspective. The vastness of the mountain range is suddenly replaced by something intimate, immediate, and almost unnoticed.

A pebble, once an insignificant fragment of the mountain landscape, becomes a source of discomfort when it enters the narrator’s shoe. In this sense, this haiku may suggest that even something small can become significant when it is close to us.

The pebble can be read metaphorically as a small obstacle or problem in life. Just as a tiny stone inside a shoe can make walking difficult, seemingly minor difficulties can disturb our progress when we fail to acknowledge them. At the same time, the pebble may represent a limitation or hurdle that prevents us from moving comfortably toward larger goals. The contrast between the grandeur of the mountain peaks and the inconvenience of the pebble ultimately draws attention to the power of perspective: something insignificant in the vastness of the world can become enormous when it is experienced personally. The haiku thus moves from the grandeur of the external landscape to the intimate experience of the individual, suggesting that the scale of a problem is not always determined by its physical size, but by how closely it affects us.

The absence of punctuation in this haiku can be important because it leaves the three images open and connected without imposing a fixed interpretation or stopping point.

valentine’s day   
the only text he gets   
grocery list    

by Quamrul Hassan (USA)
published in Failed Haiku, April 2024

Commentary by Jacob D. Salzer​:

I appreciate the humor in this haiku, though it could also have a more serious interpretation.  Perhaps the other person (presumably the partner) in this haiku has a physical disability or can’t get to the grocery store for other reasons. While flowers, chocolate, and maybe a date are nice, I also appreciate the practicality of a grocery list. Still, on first read, my first interpretation was humor. The man in this haiku may not have expected a grocery list text on a romantic holiday.  Regardless if we read this haiku as funny or potentially more serious, this poem is infused with care and attention. Well done!

lost community . . .
I gather my rusty arms
for the crucible

by Mikō (Netherlands)
Remembering ten years of My Haiku Pond

Commentary by Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The first line resonates strongly with me, as I have lost communities in the many iterations of “Nick.” Moving, changing scenes, war, and many other factors can contribute to us losing communities. In the case of the poet, Mikō might be referring to the My Haiku Pond online community. The use of ellipsis is appropriate, as it demonstrates the time it takes for a community to unravel or change. It also allows us to ponder the communities we have lost.

Rusty arms is perhaps the haiku’s central image. On one level, it evokes old tools or weapons that are disused and corroded. On another, arms suggests limbs, stiffened or worn. The rust implies the passing of time, and perhaps the erosion that comes with isolation.

The final line reframes everything that came before. A crucible is a vessel for enduring extreme heat. It is for testing, purifying, or transforming materials into something else. By ending with this image, it is implied that the poet is not gathering rusty arms to mourn them, but to submit them to a test or to purify them. There is a narrative arc in these three lines: loss – recovery of old resources – the willingness to face a test or transformation. The third line could be a nod to the famous 1953 play The Crucible by Arthur Miller, which uses a figurative meaning to describe the mass hysteria of the Salem witch trials. Finally, in the Bible, a crucible serves as a powerful metaphor for spiritual testing, suffering, and character refinement.

This haiku relies on suggestion rather than explanation. We don’t know what exact community was lost, or what the crucible represents (a trial, a war, an inner reckoning), and that ambiguity generates resonance.

The word rusty can be seen as an autumn seasonal reference, or kigo. This is a poignant reference, as this is a time when leaves are falling, and the world is becoming sparse, much like the process of losing a community.

The pacing is equivalent to the standard English-language haiku, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short last line. This approximates the traditional Japanese haiku rhythm of go-shichi-go.

Looking at the diction, the poet could have easily made this haiku verbose but chose to be brief and efficient in wording. Furthermore, the heaviness of “l” sounds in the first and last lines expresses grief. Additional weight is added to the haiku with k/g sounds in “community,” “gather,” and “crucible.”

This haiku can be interpreted in many ways and has several allusions. It is an intriguing and unique work from a poet who has engaged widely in the haiku community for many years.

Sumi-e painting

Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Jas Asencio Ramirez, and Royal Baysinger

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

milky way …
the city’s debris choking
what is left of its river

— Kala Ramesh (India)
first published in Acorn, fall issue, 2025

Commentary by Jacob D. Salzer: 

This is a revealing haiku that speaks volumes about the amount of waste produced in cities. This haiku also shows how poorly waste is often managed, leading to polluted water, soil, and air. The first line provides a much broader perspective on the Milky Way galaxy that shows how ignorant much of humanity is, creating a narrow-minded economic system based on scarcity, supply-and-demand, competition, and a refusal to take care of the Earth. The Milky Way and the Earth have been revered for thousands of years, especially by Indigenous Peoples, environmentalists, and spiritual people. Indigenous Peoples also often live near rivers, lakes, and oceans. Indeed, where there is water, there is life. If a city’s debris is choking a river, that’s a clear sign that we have built too much, too fast, and now we are all taking the consequences. In the end, we all share our brief human lives on this small Earth, and we are all temporary visitors here. What will we do with our limited time here?

This haiku sparks conversations about ways we can protect the Earth and reduce the sheer amount of waste we produce on a daily basis. This haiku also inspires questions about where products come from, and how they are sourced and created. Hopefully, this will lead to more mindful and informed consumers who are not fooled by clever or misleading marketing campaigns.

Finally, in a much broader sense, this haiku urges us to think about our values and how we want to live on Earth with our limited time here.

According to the Global Waste Index 2025 by Sensoneo, “After a comprehensive analysis of waste management in 38 countries, Israel has emerged as the country with the highest per capita waste generation, producing up to 650 kg of municipal waste per person annually. Of this amount, 524 kg is landfilled, representing 80% of the country’s total waste  – the highest landfill share among all analyzed nations. Consistent with data from 2019 and 2022, Chile and the United States continue to rank among the world’s most significant waste polluters.

On the other end of the spectrum are two Asian countries. Japan jumped to first place from seventh in 2022, thanks to low rates of waste generation and landfilling. South Korea secured second place with the highest recycling rate among all nations – 54%. Surprisingly, Estonia joined the top three with almost no waste sent to landfills. Positive rankings were also achieved by Scandinavian countries such as Sweden and Finland, as well as by DACH region countries, Germany and Austria.”

Source: https://www.sensoneo.com/global-waste-index/2025/

An important haiku.

winter breath 
floats through chilled air-
child tries to catch it 

— Jas Asencio Ramirez (USA)
first published in Brussels Sprout, Volume XII:3, 1995

Commentary by Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The season the haiku is placed in is shown in the first line with “winter.” It is reinforced with “chilled.” The cold and sparseness of winter is contrasted by the third line. A child tries, in its innocence and playfulness, to catch the visible, floating breath. But, like the breath, a child’s carefree nature eventually dissipates. Sometimes, it seems to parents that their children grow up too fast. Classic haiku often focus on a fleeting moment, and this one is built around impermanence. The attempt by the child to catch the breath is doomed from the start. The imagery is hopeful at the same time, capturing a child’s innocent belief that something visible must also be graspable.

In the second line, there is an approximation of kireji, or a cut marker, to delineate the two parts of the haiku, with the introduction of the dash. The line break after “floats through chilled air—” creates a small pause, mirroring the way breath hangs in cold air before scattering.

The letter “r” in this haiku seems the most prominent to me, which brings a sense of heaviness. This provides more weight to the visible breath. Light letters like “t” and “i” also provide tenderness to the musicality of the haiku.

In terms of pacing, the haiku follows the short/long/short line lengths. This reflects the traditional Japanese haiku rhythm. Though this haiku is not so focused on absolute brevity, the word choice by the poet unfolds an emotional response from the reader. The poet captures a poignant moment with clarity to allow readers to ponder the relationship between innocence and experience, transience and staying power, and hope and realism.

as the heatwave settles a swell of cicada songs

— Royal Baysinger (Canada)
first published in Frogpond, 46.3, 2023

Commentary by Hifsa Ashraf:

This monoku reflects a moment of seasonal transition, where one phase of summer gradually transforms into another. The opening phrase, as the heatwave settles, suggests that the speaker has been enduring and observing an extended period of oppressive heat, waiting for the moment when its intensity finally begins to ease. The word settles becomes the hinge of the poem, marking not only a shift in the weather but also a quiet change in the speaker’s emotional state. As the heat subsides, so too does the inner tension, creating a sense of relief and anticipation.

The phrase a swell of cicada songs evokes both a rising chorus and a wave of renewed life. The word swell carries a double meaning: it suggests an increase in sound while also recalling the movement of a wave, reinforcing the poem’s sense of transformation. The cicadas seem to celebrate this subtle change in the season, their chorus becoming a natural announcement of renewal. Their songs may also foreshadow the coming rains, or express the instinctive joy of a landscape awakening after oppressive heat.

Beyond the seasonal scene, the haiku resonates as a metaphor for human experience. Just as the heatwave eventually settles, periods of hardship also come to an end. The swelling chorus of cicadas becomes a symbol of hope, resilience, and inner renewal—a reminder that difficult times can give way to fresh understanding, joy, and transformation.

The poem’s music further deepens its effect. The repeated s sounds in as, settles, swell, songs, and cicada create a soft, whispering rhythm that mirrors the gradual easing of the heat, while the w sound in heatwave and swell suggests the motion of a wave carrying the poem from stillness toward renewal.

Photo by Jon Washburne

Results for the Inaugural George Klacsanzky Memorial Haiku Contest

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn contest2 Comments

The inaugural George Klacsanzky Memorial Haiku Contest received submissions from 491 poets, totaling 1,393 haiku. This is a great honor for Haiku Commentary and for the memory of haiku pioneer George Klacsanzky. The judge of the contest, Michael Dylan Welch, was kind enough to write commentary on the winning poems. The full results are shown below.

First Place

abandoned cemetery
the dust in me
whispers a prayer

— Denisa Hanšutová, Slovakia

We are made from dust and to dust we shall return. This poem confronts us with that reality in its allusion to the book of Genesis, reminding us of our place in the cycle of life. This cemetery is abandoned, so even the cemetery is returning to dust. Yet the poet is visiting, either by chance, out of curiosity, or intentionally to see the grave of a loved one. In a moment of introspection, the poet’s awareness of mortality prompts a prayer of hope or desire, whispered in quietness, as if not to disturb the scene’s moving tranquility. Saint Augustine said, “It is no advantage to be near the light if the eyes are closed.” Perhaps visiting this cemetery has opened the poet’s eyes.

Second Place

nettle flowers—
the paramedics stop
defibrillating

— Lucas Weissenborn, Norway

It’s easy to suspect that these nettles, despite their flowers, are stinging nettles. As a result, this poem’s first line immediately introduces tension. Yet we could hardly predict where its last two lines will take us, which is a sad moment marking the end of a life. We can picture these flowers at the side of a road, noticed after an accident and the arrival of paramedics. The nettles echo that metaphorical sting. Most likely it is summer, the peak blooming time for many nettles. And although summer is usually the peak of life, here a life has ended, and we can engage with that moment of psychological realization that no more can be done to save this life.

Third Place

piecing together
a torn photograph—
winter stars

— Alvin B. Cruz, Philippines

Loss is confronted with a desire to heal, to mend, surely to piece together more than just a photograph. The stars may be particularly clear in winter, but their light is also cold. The image of the last line carries a coldness, yes, but also the idea of wishing upon a star, of desiring a return to the way things once were. A melancholy sadness pervades this poem, yet not without a touch of hope. I appreciate this poem’s deft pairing of unstated emotion with tactility.


Honorable Mentions
(in no particular order)

moonlight
the stillness
of a wrecking ball

— Ravi Kiran, India

It’s not often that we see a wrecking ball. It’s a tool of destruction, yet here it’s an object of fleeting beauty, seen at night when it’s not being employed for its intended purpose. The poet finds a new purpose for the wrecking ball and records that moment of attention for our appreciation.

glacial erratic—
a refugee traces
his lifeline

— Meera Rehm, UK

A refugee will know his or her origins and never forget them. Where does a glacial erratic come from? In some cases, the answer might be as simple as somewhere farther up the mountain, near a still-active glacier. But in many parts of North America and elsewhere, glacial erratics survive far from mountains, left over from the ice age where their origin is often much more of a mystery. Here the refugee contemplates not just the past but also the future.

summer midnight—
the traffic light changes
for no one

— Punyasloka Mohapatra, India

Perhaps we’ve been on a late-night walk and have seen traffic lights change when no cars are on the road. The irony of this poem is that the light changed for the poet, the observer, if not for a passing vehicle. Haiku poets are noticers, appreciators. Billy Collins has said that haiku are poems of existential gratitude, and we feel that gratitude in this poem.

summer fair
the merry-go-round
of glances

— Herb Tate, UK

It’s easy to imagine a parent seeing his or her child on this merry-go-round, perhaps a carousel. Every trip around brings a fresh glance, a fresh meeting of the eyes, a fresh sharing of delight. Surely the watcher appreciates the gentle joy of the person on the merry-go-round—its purpose is indeed merriment, and the watcher shares that joy vicariously.

returning soldier—
the kids ask their dad
for souvenirs

— Annette Akkerman, Netherlands

This poem points to the innocence of children, who seem to have no idea what war is, or what their dad’s job truly is. The question is, does the father explain, or let the kids think that his travel is more like a vacation? We can be grateful that the father has indeed returned, even if the children are not aware of how grateful they should be for that, their true gift on that occasion.

starless sky
opening and shutting
the same cupboard

— Christine L. Villa, USA

It’s late at night, and the poet has wandered into the kitchen, perhaps forgetting why, or changing her mind. The sky is starless outside the window, and perhaps that dullness has clouded the poet’s mind in this moment of aimlessness. This “same” cupboard may have been opened just a moment earlier, adding more depth to this moment of distractedness, and we can only wonder why.

stargazing
the baby’s cry
brings me back to earth

— Rich Schilling, USA

The stars here are so absorbing that the poet has momentarily forgotten their child. The reality of being a parent isn’t without the optimism of gazing at stars, though, and every parent will wish for the stars for their newborn baby. Up may seem to be countered with down in this poem, beauty tempered with practicality, yet those stars will surely be what this family reaches for in the years ahead.

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Thank you to all participants of the inaugural George Klacsanzky Memorial Haiku Contest for making it a great success. We hope all of you participate next year in May. Cheers!