Tag: Alexander Groth

Haiku by Alexander Groth, Gareth Nurden, and Ibrahim Nureni

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

meteor shower
her wish for
dialysis

— Alexander Groth (Germany)
published in tsuri-doro, issue #30, 2025

Commentary by Nicholas Klacsanzky:

This haiku takes the tradition of a “wish upon a shooting star” to very real emotional depths. As a life-saving treatment, dialysis being wished upon through a superstition highlights the desperation of the patient. Commonly, a wish made in this fashion is much lighter and whimsical. It is also associated with childhood, and the patient herself might be a child. The meteor shower mirrors that seriousness and overwhelming experience of needing dialysis, which is a mechanism for survival rather than a cure.

“Meteor shower” functions as a seasonal word (kigo), traditionally evoking images of wonder, transience, and celestial beauty. In Germany, meteor showers happen most in summer and winter. In looking at the mood of this haiku, I would suspect that the meteor shower would be happening in winter.

The poet deftly leaves some details out. We don’t know who “her” refers to: a mother, a daughter, a patient, or the speaker herself? We don’t know if the wish is granted. We don’t know if she can afford it or access it. This haiku is effectively spartan in information and wording.

The lines are written in descending order, from distant grandeur (meteor shower) to personal strife (her wish for) to the stark focus of dialysis. The lines becoming smaller and smaller could be reminiscent of many things: how a meteor falls to the Earth, the dimming of life for the patient, or the flow of liquids during dialysis itself.

In looking at the punctuation and sound, this haiku does not employ a dash or ellipsis to mark a cut. The haiku is so sparse and is phrased in such a way that adding punctuation might have looked clunky. The first two lines have euphony with the letters “o” and “r.” However, in the last line, the switch up in content is matched with a change in sound: “i” and “y” are focused upon, while “s” is still carrying some of the flavor from the first two lines.

In only six words, this haiku presents medical trauma, economic hardship, human longing, and cosmic indifference—and does not sentimentalize it. In this haiku, the wish upon a star, an innocent gesture, becomes a call for empathy and assistance for those who are less fortunate.

The crow lurking
In my parking bay
Learning to walk again

— Gareth Nurden (Wales)

Commentary by Jacob D. Salzer:

A powerful haiku that has at least two interpretations. The crow could be learning to walk again due to an injury or old age. The poet also could be learning to walk again for similar reasons and/or due to another medical condition. I appreciate how learning to walk again slows us down and lets us appreciate life and notice more in our surroundings.

Interestingly, there are three -ing verbs in this haiku, which is not commonly seen in English-language haiku, but it doesn’t come across as distracting. On the contrary, the -ing verbs seem to show connection and coherence.  

In short, this is a haiku that inspires compassion for both the crow and the poet. In the end, a lot of people will learn to walk again as we grow older, and may become more like a child again as well. A beautiful haiku.

onion bulbs—
I peel another layer
of sorrow

— Ibrahim Nureni (Nigeria/USA)
published in Acorn, 2024

Commentary by Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening line, onion bulbs, establishes both a literal and symbolic foundation for the haiku. On one hand, it refers to a physical object associated with harvesting and storage; on the other, it suggests something layered and hidden. The image implies that beneath the surface of ordinary things lies something hidden within human experience. The em dash creates a pause, supplying a sense of hesitation and emotional weight.

The ending phrase, I peel another layer of sorrow, extends this metaphor into something very personal. The act of peeling becomes an inward process of confronting a long-time buried feeling. Each layer removed does not lead to clarity or resolution but instead reveals further sorrow, suggesting a therapeutic process. The word another depicts repetition, implying that this is an ongoing, possibly exhausting process of resurfacing something painful or difficult to face.

The haiku does not have a clear end. Rather than arriving at a core truth, it presents sorrow as something endlessly layered, where reaching to the core is either delayed or uncertain.  

Coloured Artwork Of Leonid Meteor Shower Of 1833 is a photograph by the Science Photo Library

Haiku by Thomas L. Vaultonburg, Tuyet Van Do, and Alexander Groth

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

broken bridge—
the river teaches me
its alphabet

— Thomas L. Vaultonburg (USA)

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku reflects wreckage, destruction, and loss—possibly due to war, natural erosion, or catastrophe. The opening line, “broken bridge,” immediately conveys a sense of disruption—be it in relationships, communication, or continuity. A bridge often symbolizes connection, transition, or passage from one state to another. Here, its brokenness suggests a severed link, a collapse in understanding or unity. The em dash after the first line pauses the reader, allowing them to fully absorb the scene and connect with it in their own personal way.

The second line shows how, in the absence of that constructed path, the observer begins to engage directly with the river. The destruction of the bridge uncovers a hidden relationship with the river—something previously ignored as people simply crossed over it, never truly noticing its flow, sound, or resilience. Now, with nothing in between, the river demands presence. It becomes a metaphor for uninterrupted thought—fluid, spontaneous, and reflective—offering insight and wisdom in the aftermath of loss.

The final line, “its alphabet,” is especially evocative. It suggests the river has its own language—one that the observer is now learning to read. This could represent poetry, expression, or a deeper understanding of the self and nature. The word “alphabet” also points to musicality, rhythm, and perhaps even healing, as if the river’s sounds become a kind of song or meditation.

Overall, it is a haiku that displays humility, and that when the human-made world breaks down, nature is there with its voice and language.

vacation at grandma’s
cicada’s symphony
singing me to sleep

— Tuyet Van Do (Australia)
Haiku Girl Summer, 25 August 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

“Cicada” is a classic summer kigo (seasonal reference) in the Japanese haiku tradition, and in most countries. The poet could be implying that she was on summer vacation while visiting her grandma’s house. I got the feeling, though, that perhaps her grandma was no longer there, and the cicadas were a substitute for the lullabies that her grandma used to sing. The loudness and fullness of cicada song fill the gap left behind by a loved one to some degree.

In the second line, there is a shift to the natural world, connecting humanity with the cicadas. Oftentimes, cicadas are thought to have harsh calls, but the word “symphony” characterizes their sound as pleasant and even awe-inspiring. Perhaps at a place as so nostalgia-infused as grandma’s house, even cicadas can sound melodious and sweet.

The third line returns to the human, showing the effect of nature on the poet. It displays a clear juxtaposition of human experience and nature. Additionally, it also manifests the connection between sound and the memory of an emotion. Music, or certain sonics of nature, can often open the floodgates of memory.

Looking at the sense of sound within the words themselves, the repetition of the soft s sounds mimics the hiss and hum of the cicadas in the first line. In the last line, the s dominates again, this time softened by ng and sl, creating a lulling effect.

It is a simple haiku at first glance, but with a second look or more, one can easily see and feel layers of meaning that are poignant and resonant.

school bathroom—
the scent of fresh deodorizer
lingers in my hair

— Alexander Groth (Germany)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

Many activities can happen in school bathrooms. They can be a kind of hiding place for some students, where they talk and share secrets, though more unfortunate things can happen in school bathrooms as well. The scent of the fresh deodorizer could be covering up another scent, though this is left open to the reader. In a broader sense, this haiku makes me think about the psychological, physical, and emotional effect that various scents have in our daily lives. It also makes me think about the chemicals in various deodorizers/deodorants that some people are exposed to on a daily basis. In college, I learned certain deodorants have harmful chemicals that can enter the lymph nodes and can cause various medical problems over time, including cancer. In short, this is an important haiku that sparks conversations about school safety, the sense of smell, chemicals, and the social lives of students. 

Panorama of the Tiber with a broken bridge. Caspar van Wittel (1653–1736) 

Haiku and Senryu by Gordon Brown, Kelly Sargent, and Alexander Groth

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

winter morning
inside the gargoyle’s mouth
a bird’s nest

— Gordon Brown (USA)
tsuri-doro, issue #14, March/April 2023

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The starting line with a kigo shows the cold weather when people mostly stay inside and enjoy the coziness of rooms and memories. A winter morning may indicate fog, snowflakes, snowfall, blizzard, or simply coldness. It may be a window view, a view from the balcony, a view from a vehicle’s window, etc. In any case, the person has captured something unusual—something that people don’t focus on in their daily routine. Perhaps, the poet is trying to relate his personal life with the imagery. 

The English article ‘the’ before ‘gargoyle’ allows us to ponder statues, stubs, waterspouts, fountains, etc. But, it seems whatever form the gargoyle’s mouth takes, it needs some maintenance. In religious terms, gargoyles are meant to be both good and bad. In architecture, they are used for the disposal of water. The placement and the purpose of a gargoyle in this haiku is significant. It seems like the gargoyle is no longer in use, or simply a statue where a bird nests. This may indicate that the gargoyle is meaningful even if no one cares. It’s a sign of adjustment where insignificant things become significant—especially in hard times. In this case, a bird nests in the gargoyle’s mouth to avoid harsh weather. For that bird, this creature is a great blessing, and for the place where it is situated, it may have become a curse. We never know when and where life turns upside down. But, we need to learn from nature about how to adjust to situations that are not useful to us. 

finding my adoption papers —
polished apples 
without a stem

— Kelly Sargent (USA)
Mayfly, issue #77, July 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

This is a powerful haiku that uses detailed images in a two-part juxtaposition to communicate emotions and meaning. There is metaphorical power in this haiku as well. The discovery of the poet’s adoption papers likely creates a myriad of emotional responses, such as shock, melancholy, and perhaps relief, simultaneously. It could be that the person or people who adopted the poet kept the adoption a secret to prevent the poet from being exposed to past psychological trauma in their biological family. The word “polished” reminds us that sometimes things are not as they appear, and much can remain hidden beneath the surface. “Without a stem” points to the disconnection between the poet and their biological family and shows how hard it is to face the mystery of their family tree. This haiku also extends what a family can mean. I appreciate the poet’s vulnerability. This is a potent haiku with psychological depth and meaning.

fishing trip 
carefully I remove the hook
from my skin

— Alexander Groth (Germany)
Failed Haiku, issue #100, July 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Not only is the last line a surprise but it also can be taken in several poetic directions. Like many great haiku and senryu, the images in this poem can be perceived as both mundane and metaphorical. Perhaps the poet “catches” himself with a hook in an ironic twist, but “hook” could also pertain to attachments or hang-ups. The poet could be saying that before engaging in fishing, he needs to let go of a few burdens—psychological or otherwise.

Since this is classed as a senryu, no punctuation, seasonal reference, or avoidance of personal pronouns is needed. Still, the poet kept to the principles of brevity, casual language, and pacing the lines in a traditional short/long/short rhythm.

Looking at the aspect of sound, the sharp “i” in all the lines of the senryu connects to the hook. In addition, the “k” sounds in “carefully,” “hook,” and “skin” contribute to the feeling of sharpness. Ultimately, this haiku appears to be effortlessly written, but on looking deeper, demonstrates the technical prowess of the poet and layered depth.

William Henry Hunt, Bird’s Nest with Sprays of Apple Blossoms, circa 1847