Tag: jacob salzer

Haiku by Jeff Streeby, Richa Sharma, and Luke Levi

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn HaikuLeave a comment

On the Jefferson River
one swallow’s perch song
making a summer

— Jeff Streeby (USA)
Part of a haibun titled “A Brindle Bull.” Published in Bacopa Literary Review, September 2019; won Bacopa Literary Review’s Mixed Form Prize in 2019; nominated for a Pushcart Prize; reprinted in January 2020 by Contemporary Haibun Online.

Commentary by Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The Jefferson River grounds the poem in a historically significant place. It was named by the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1805 in honor of President Thomas Jefferson because it carried the largest volume of water at the time compared to the nearby Madison and Gallatin rivers. The river also carves through the dramatic Jefferson Canyon near Cardwell, which is also home to the famous Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park.

In juxtaposition to this important river is a swallow perched and singing, bringing the present into focus. The poet’s choice of one swallow instead of many makes the haiku more centered in the moment. Swallows are birds of motion, being aerial acrobats and migratory. To witness one perched and singing is to recognize a pause in perpetual movement. This corresponds to the river, which is constantly flowing. The swallow, unlike the river, takes a moment to provide a song that could be perceived as a celebration or initiation of summer. It is almost as if the swallow is saying, “River, I know you will not stop, so I will stop for you and sing your glories.”

The final line makes the seasonal reference or kigo clear. “making a summer” is where the poem diverges from simple observation. A single swallow, as perceived by the poet, creates an embodiment of summer with its song. It echoes the Zen notion that perception and reality arise together. Summer is often a time of joy, and I feel the poet is comparing this season’s emotions to the history of the Jefferson River, embodied in the swallow’s song.

Though the haiku lacks a cut marker (kireji) to separate its two parts, a comma is intuitively felt after the first line. There is no real need for punctuation to be added.

The pacing is in the traditional English-language haiku format of short/long/short lines, which approximates the rhythm of Japanese haiku. The brevity and minimalistic language of the poem matches haiku tradition. The poet could easily make this haiku verbose but rightly did not.

Looking at the sound, the contrast between the soft “o” sounds and the harder “r” sounds brings musicality to the haiku. Swallows have a “twitter-warble” song during courtship and egg-laying, with a series of continuous warbling sounds followed by rapid, mechanical-sounding whirrs. These sounds could be reflected in the letter “r” used throughout the haiku.

This is a haiku that merges the past and the present, flow and pause, and the miniscule and grandiose with great effectiveness.

bird by bird
I dismantle
the birdcage

— Richa Sharma (India)
published in folk ku journal, issue 3, 2024

Commentary by Jacob D. Salzer: 

I appreciate this haiku for its metaphorical value. What is the birdcage? The limited thoughts/beliefs we have on a myriad of subjects seem to create a mental birdcage. The birdcage could also represent a limited worldview or mental prison that is self-created and/or imposed by others. What would happen if the mental birdcage was dismantled? Would our inner birds then truly begin to sing and fly?

This haiku reminds me of the four questions that Byron Katie offers regarding any thought or belief that someone is struggling with: 1) Is that thought true? 2) Can you absolutely know that the thought is true? 3) How do you react when you believe that thought? 4) Who would you be without the thought? Byron Katie then asks her clients to explore “turnarounds” or what are potential opposites of the thought that we believed was true. This process of inquiry can be highly enlightening as we learn to see and experience life without limited thoughts/beliefs that may not even be true to begin with. I highly recommend her book Loving What Is.

In terms of sound, the “b” sound is predominant throughout this haiku, which seems to make the word “dismantle” stand out even more. I think dismantle is a powerful word. I had not seen this word in a haiku before, until now. I think it works great in this poem. What else can we dismantle to live more loving and joyful lives? What can we let go of to walk lighter and with more ease and less suffering?

Aside from the metaphorical power of this haiku, it can also be read literally (i.e., the poet saw birds and heard the beauty of birdsongs, to such an extent that he physically took apart his birdcage). This haiku might also spark conversations about animals and birds in the zoo. In addition, this haiku brings to mind a famous poem by Maya Angelou, “Caged Bird.”

This is a powerful haiku that borders on surrealism (and perhaps folklore) but is also accessible with deep psychological meaning and modern-day relevance.

river rope
swinging into
no thoughts 

— Luke Levi (USA)
published in Frogpond, 48:2, 2025 

Commentary by Hifsa Ashraf:

The phrase “river rope” immediately draws attention with its unusual pairing and the soft repetition of the ‘r’ sound. Without punctuation, the opening remains open-ended, inviting readers to imagine the river and the rope in their own way. Is the river calm or rushing? What kind of rope is it? What time of day is it? The poet leaves space for multiple interpretations.

“swinging into” introduces a gentle rhythmic movement—the pull, sway, and faint sound of the rope in the air.

The final line, “no thoughts,” turns the poem inward. Rather than presenting a concrete image, it leaves us in a meditative stillness, suggesting a mind emptied by the simple act of watching the rope swing. Everything else in the scene seems on hold around that quiet or subtle motion.

The absence of punctuation and a clear kigo further deepens the haiku’s openness and mystery.

Robert S. Duncanson – Meeting by the River (1864)

Haiku and haibun by Gareth Nurden, Sathya Venkatesh, and Anthony Lusardi

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haibun, HaikuLeave a comment

civil twilight
around the old parish
the halogen glow of snow

— Gareth Nurden (Wales)

Commentary by Nicholas Klacsanzky:

What initially got me interested in this haiku was the first line, “civil twilight.” I had to look it up, and found out that it means “the brightest of the three twilight phases, occurring when the sun is between the horizon and 6° below the horizon. It provides enough natural light for most outdoor activities, often making artificial lighting unnecessary. It begins in the morning before sunrise and ends in the evening after sunset” (National Weather Service). I never saw this kigo being used, and I was impressed by its sense of sound. The running of “i” and “l” through the line makes it sing.

The second line further sets the scene and serves as a pivot between the first and third lines. The lack of punctuation helps this pivot succeed. The word “parish” is wonderful in its specificity, while “old” adds to the “l” sound in the first line and creates a contrast of times.

Though the first line introduced the time of day, the last line features the season: winter. This supplies a direct comparison between the state of the parish and the stark season it now inhabits. The word “halogen” is a brilliant touch, not just from an imagistic standpoint but also from a mood perspective. The radioactive glow of halogen is reminiscent of war, industry, science, and more. However, the take that stuck with me is the relation to the aftermath of war. The old parish is most likely in ruin (physically or metaphorically), and the halogen of snow magnifies this fact. The snow and twilight did not intend to illustrate the old parish’s wrecked state, but it did in the poet’s eyes, and maybe in the eyes of others around. On another note, the third line keeps with “l” and “o” sounds that blend musically with the second line, and some of the first line.

The relationship between civil twilight and the halogen glow of snow creates toriawase, or a skillful combination of different elements. Though both of these parts are of nature, the old parish brings in a human and spiritual element. This adds another layer to the toriawase.

This haiku is understated and unfolds with meaning with each line and word. It brings in time, seasons, and the connection between human architecture and spirituality with the natural world. It is a contemplative work that delivers through excellent diction, imagery, and phrasing.

red alert
the umbrella seller sits back
to enjoy his tea

— Sathya Venkatesh (India)
published in haikuKATHA, issue #44, 2025

Commentary by Hifsa Ashraf:

The haiku presents a striking shift in mood, moving from danger or urgency to quiet ease. The opening line, “red alert,” signals danger or impending disruption, immediately creating tension and uncertainty. Without punctuation, it allows readers to imagine various interpretations, the most common ones maybe a storm, heavy rain, or another natural calamity.

The second line introduces an umbrella seller that subtly hinting at the nature of the alert. Umbrellas suggest rain or rain related disasters. Yet instead of reacting with alarm, the seller seems to be relaxed, creating a contrast between the urgency and the utter relaxation.

In the final line, “to enjoy his tea,” there is a quiet sense of ease, even a hint of enjoyment. The umbrella seller appears untroubled, suggesting that what brings concern to some may offer opportunity or simply remain an ordinary moment to others.

The overall imagery can be read as revealing a colder, more self-interested side of human nature, where one benefits from circumstances that may trouble many. At the same time, the haiku remains open to multiple interpretations and invites the reader to consider both its subtle implications and its silences.

A haibun:

while reading ryokan’s poetry

i thought about the annual christmas parade in boonton, new jersey. held right after black friday on main street with fire trucks and floats for every local business. the high school marching band, the politicians, the VFWs, the church choirs, the boy and girl scouts and all the neighbors lining up and down the road, taking selfies and tossing confetti with the first falling snow. and if i was his pupil, i would try to convince ryokan to join me in the festivities . . . yet i would imagine, he would convince me to join him near the rockaway river, right near its small falls, far away from all activities and ask me to just listen.

                        late autumn moon;
                        eventually the town sleeps
                        but never the river

— Anthony Lusardi (USA)
first published in failed haiku, issue #111, September 2025

Commentary by Jacob D. Salzer: 

This is an intriguing haibun where modern culture collides with Nature. The parade and modern culture also contrast with the monastic life of a Japanese poet, calligrapher, and Zen Buddhist priest, Ryōkan, who lived in the 18th and 19th centuries. The annual Christmas parade is loud and full of bright colors, sounds, and music, flashing phone cameras, confetti, etc. The parade is happening after Black Friday, when people buy things that day at discounted prices, but it can also involve physical violence and be dangerous. This kind of stimulation at the parade and during Black Friday can easily activate the human sympathetic nervous system (fight, flight, or freeze).

By contrast, the life of Ryōkan is strongly aligned with the beauty of Nature, without loud sounds or other excessive multisensory stimulation. The atmosphere of his life in Nature easily activates our parasympathetic nervous system (rest and digest), where we can relax, while being fully alert and present.

In this haibun, a powerful example of the collision between two worlds is “tossing confetti with the first falling snow.” With Ryōkan’s life and perspective in mind, perhaps the poet is ultimately starting to see modern culture as a kind of distraction that has established traditions, but are ultimately short-lived, while our true home is found in Nature and a quiet mind.

According to Britannica: “Ryōkan (born 1758, Izumozaki, Japan—died Feb. 18, 1831, Echigo province) was a Zen Buddhist priest of the late Tokugawa period (1603–1867) who was renowned as a poet and calligrapher. The eldest son of a village headman, he became a Buddhist priest at about the age of 17 under the religious name of Taigu Ryōkan. When he was 21 he met an itinerant monk, Kokusen, and followed him to his temple, Entsū-ji, at Tamashima, Bitchū province. He followed a life of monastic discipline there for 12 years. After Kokusen’s death he traveled to various parts of Japan as a mendicant priest. In old age he returned to his native Echigo province, where he studied the Man’yōshū and ancient calligraphy. He developed a strong master-pupil relationship with a young nun, Teishin, who after his death compiled Hachisu no tsuyu (1835; “Dew on the Lotus”), a collection of his haiku and waka poems. He also executed many pieces of calligraphy that are esteemed for their elegant beauty.”

Interestingly, there is no capitalization found in this haibun, aside from VFW’s (which I learned means Veterans of Foreign Wars, which is an organization representing U.S. veterans who have served in overseas conflicts). The lowercase words in this haibun seem to create a tone of humility.

In short, this is an intriguing haibun that offers social commentary on modern culture and the importance of being in Nature. It also provides a small window into the life of Ryōkan and Zen Buddhism. Despite our technological advances, cities will rise and fall with time, but Nature will remain. A powerful haibun.

Old Church Tower at Nuenen, 1884, Vincent van Gogh

Haiku by Samo Kreutz, Tuyet Van Do, and Bonnie J Scherer

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku, Senryu3 Comments

meditation music …
a kitten’s purr slips
into incense

— Samo Kreutz (Slovenia)
THF Haiku Dialogue, November 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku resonates deeply with me, especially since my recent collaborative book, Beyond Emptiness, explores themes of mysticism and spiritual transformation.

The opening line, “meditation music,” immediately evokes a serene, introspective space. For me, it echoes the tones of Sufi music or soft instrumental melodies—sounds that captivate the senses and guide the soul toward mindfulness. Such music plays a vital role in calming the nerves and synchronizing one’s rhythm with the stillness within.

The second line, “a kitten’s purr,” introduces a gentle, intimate sound—subtle yet profound. I interpret the kitten’s presence as symbolic of a beginner in meditation: quiet, curious, and softly aligned with the spiritual energy. Purring suggests delight, warmth, and safety—a sensory harmony that seamlessly blends with the meditative ambiance. It reminds us that the healing power of sound affects not just humans but all sentient beings.

The poet concludes it beautifully with “slips into incense,” which is both poetic and mystical. There’s a beautiful synesthetic quality here, a merging of sound, scent, and motion. The phrase “slips into” suggests a gentle transformation, a shift from the tangible into the ethereal. It reflects that moment in meditation when physical sensations dissolve, and one is immersed in the intangible. The incense symbolizes this spiritual diffusion where worldly concerns fade, and one melts into a deeper, more satisfying stillness.

Altogether, the haiku captures a sacred moment where the boundaries between body, mind, and spirit gently blur.

queueing for coffee
an elderly man
counting his change

— Tuyet Van Do (Australia)
Kokako 43, 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

This is an important haiku for a variety of reasons. 

Firstly, this haiku shows a fast-paced lifestyle that coffee is often associated with, and the sheer demand for coffee. While there is non-caffeinated coffee available, most coffee has caffeine, which is known as an addictive drug. Not all people who drink coffee are addicted, but many people are. This could transfer to the interpretation that some people seem to be addicted to a fast-paced lifestyle, thinking that faster is always better. However, some people also seem to move faster as a survival mechanism due to low-wage jobs and rising costs of living. By moving faster and sometimes working multiple jobs, there is an opportunity to make more money. 

While drinking coffee in moderation has health benefits, the added sugar to specialty coffee beverages, such as lattes, can have serious health consequences when consumed regularly over time, and can lead to diabetes mellitus, inflammation, and cardiovascular diseases, which can be fatal. According to the World Health Organization, in 2021, ischemic heart disease was the #1 cause of death worldwide, and diabetes mellitus was the 8th leading cause of death (source: https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/the-top-10-causes-of-death). There are also often negative health consequences that come with a fast-paced lifestyle, including increased stress, and not activating our parasympathetic nervous system enough to rest, digest, and relax.

The sheer demand for coffee is marked by the “queueing for coffee” in this haiku, which means there’s a long line of people waiting. Ironically, depending on the size of the business and the number of workers, people may have to wait for quite some time to buy their coffee. The fast-paced lifestyle is starkly contrasted with the elderly man, who is slowly counting his change and has to move at a much slower pace due to his age. This elderly man could be addicted to coffee, but he is not moving as fast as he used to. Alternatively, he could not be addicted to coffee at all. He may also be living in poverty due to counting his change. It seems people are waiting in line longer, partly because he is counting his change. Unfortunately, he may not have enough money to buy the coffee he ordered. I feel compassion for this elderly man and appreciate that he’s showing a slower pace of life. Also, the word “change” can refer to how the elderly man has transformed over his lifetime. The double entendre in haiku is a common device that is used to great effect.

According to Coffee Industry: Size, Growth, and Economic Impact Analysis, “The coffee industry is one of the largest and most influential sectors in the world, with an economic impact that extends far beyond just a daily beverage. As of 2025, the global coffee market accounted for $256.29 billion, and will register a CAGR of 4.52% from 2025 to 2034. This consistent growth reflects coffee’s enduring popularity, driven by changing consumer preferences, increasing disposable incomes, and the expanding coffee culture in emerging markets. According to a recent study, U.S. coffee consumption has grown by 5% since 2015, illustrating the increasing demand for this beloved beverage. This includes the shift toward premium and specialty coffee, which is boosting the value of global coffee beans, expected to reach $174.25 billion by 2030. Despite these hurdles, the coffee industry remains a crucial economic force, providing over 2.2 million jobs and generating more than $100 billion annually in wages across the U.S.”

According to Coffee’s Economic Impact:

“Two-thirds of American adults drink coffee each day and more than 70% of American adults drink coffee each week.”

Highlights of coffee’s economic impact in the United States include:

  • The total economic impact of the coffee industry in the United States in 2022 was $343.2 billion, up 52.4% since 2015.
  • The coffee industry is responsible for more than 2.2 million U.S. jobs and generates more than $100 billion in wages per year.
  • Coffee can only be grown in tropical climates. It cannot be grown in most of the United States and is sourced from countries with tropical climates. Every $1 in coffee imported to the United States ends up creating an estimated $43 in value here at home. Learn more about coffee and trade.
  • Consumers spend more than $300 million on coffee products every day—nearly $110 billion per year.

For more information on coffee, including the roots of coffee in Ethiopia, fair-trade, global coffee markets, and the consequences of colonization and enslavement associated with growing coffee in certain countries, I recommend this interview with Phyllis Johnson, published in The Sun Magazine: https://www.thesunmagazine.org/articles/601-crop-to-cup

In short, this is an important haiku that sheds light on coffee, the consequences of a fast-paced lifestyle, and also inspires compassion as we age. 

a story
cut short
earthworm

— Bonnie J Scherer (USA)
Modern Haiku 56.3

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

I believe this poem hovers between being a haiku or senryu—not that it matters too much. Ultimately, what is important is that it expresses violence and empathy via brevity, with its emotionality implied rather than stated.

Opening with “a story” is unique. As an editor, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that as a first line in a haiku/senryu. The phrase invites expectation and makes the reader curious about what is going to happen next in the poem.

“cut short” functions as both a poetic turn and a literal act. It interrupts the promise of “story” and physically refers to severing something. So, you got a balance between abstraction and the mundane.

With the mention of “earthworm,” we get the conclusion and also the opening up of the story. It grounds the poem in reality. This toriawase—story versus earthworm—creates resonance between human meaning-making and a small, often-overlooked being. The poet doesn’t dive into sentimentality; the earthworm is not anthropomorphized, yet the simplicity of the verse allows us to recognize that even the humblest organism contains a “story.” The violence is understated, yet it is heavy through sparseness.

I think the poem plays with the idea of impermanence and permanence. It is commonly known that if you cut off the body of an earthworm and the head remains, many times earthworms can grow their tails back and be whole once again. In this sense, the poet may be saying that even if a story is cut short, there is a strong chance that the narrative will continue with time.

Even though the poem is very short (five words in all), the sense of sound is strong. The elongated “o” sounds make the reading slower and more meditative. The “r” sounds perhaps bring extra weight.

I am a sucker for haiku and senryu that deal with the small things and beings around us, and this poem called out to me for that reason. The hidden meanings in the poem also made me more invested in it and allowed my mind to wander in introspection. A fine, sparse ku that does a lot with only five words.

Painting by Julius Adam (1852 – 1913), “Cat with her Kittens”