Tag: jacob salzer

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 by Robert Witmer, Mona Bedi, and Vaishnavi Pusapati

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

summer
the millstone
grinding
the donkey

— Robert Witmer (Japan)
Acorn, 2012

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The word “summer” serves as the kigo, or seasonal reference. With summer linked to heat and exhaustion, the donkey, laboring under the sun, embodies the season’s oppression. There is also a contrast between the carefree time of the season for many and the hardship of the donkey. The poem is in line with the haiku tradition of showcasing animals as mirrors for the human experience.

The line break after “grinding” sets the haiku up for suspense. On the literal level, the millstone grinds grain, powered by the donkey. Yet, the syntax suggests another possibility: the millstone is grinding “the donkey.” This ambiguity shifts the focus of agricultural labor to an existential meditation. The donkey is not only the driver of the millstone but also its victim, ground down by endless work. The brevity of the poem creates the opportunity for two interpretations in one phrase.

The opening word “summer” creates a pause much like a kireji (cutting word) in Japanese haiku. That initial fragment provides a sense of heat and the monotony in the donkey’s circling. The lack of punctuation allows the lines to blur a bit as if there is a heatwave. Also, the way the haiku is set to four lines to slow down the reading, instead of the usual three in English-language haiku, illustrates the trudging of the donkey.

The donkey itself evokes the burden of living and the servitude we all must endure. In this haiku, however, the animal is emblematic of exploitation and fatigue. The millstone, traditionally associated with providing food, here becomes an instrument of slavery or torture. Therefore, the poem shows a contrast between the cycle of food production and the cycle of suffering. In this sense, this haiku may have Buddhist or Hindu overtones—specifically, with impermanence (mujo) and suffering (dukkha).

Looking at the sound, the s hisses like the heat of summer, and the m is heavy, creating a sense of weight that links with the donkey’s toil. Additionally, “grinding” is an onomatopoeia that mimics the action of the millstone and the servitude of the donkey.

As a person concerned about animal welfare, this haiku is touching. It made me consider more deeply the amount of labor and forced suffering we inflict upon our fellow creatures. The slow pacing, sound, and pivot line all work well to convey the feelings and ideas the poet wanted us to consider.

the deep blue 
of my hometown sky
summer’s end

— Mona Bedi (India)
Wales Haiku Journal, Summer 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

Colors in haiku can add psychological, emotional, and sometimes spiritual dimensions. In this haiku, the deep blue could imply a kind of melancholy or a sense of calmness and mystery. Perhaps the poet’s hometown has significantly changed over the years, yet a certain nostalgia seems to remain. This resonates with the turning of the seasons as well. As summer ends, in certain parts of the world, there is a noticeable shift to the cooler air of autumn. Perhaps the end of summer also signifies that the poet is letting go of something and starting a new chapter in their life.

I appreciate how, even though this is a personal haiku, it transports readers into their own hometowns, acting as a kind of portal into the past and perhaps the future. There is a strong sense of place in this poem that connects us with the land, yet also with our family, friends, and the people we grew up with. A well-written haiku.

cloud hills—
between sips of tea
the smell of petrichor

— Vaishnavi Pusapati (India)
Under the Bashō, March 13 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

A meditative verse, steeped in stillness, sensory richness, and inward calm with deeply evocative undertones. It makes me think of the times when I used to enjoy tea and pakoras during the rain in our village haveli. The main reason behind that joy was the smell of petrichor, which always captivated my senses and allowed me to thoroughly enjoy the scene.

‘Cloud hills’ could be either a kigo (seasonal reference) or a place intentionally chosen by the poet to preserve certain past memories or simply to enjoy a moment of peace with nature. I find it more surreal and dreamy when I imagine places like this—where one can witness the beauty of different seasonal changes all at once. I see clouds as dreams, and hills as passion and emotion—elements the observer is trying to connect with. The em dash in the first line makes the image feel more intimate and personal, hinting at a deeper emotional association with the place.

The second line, ‘between sips of tea,’ feels especially meditative and thought-provoking. It reminds me of a tea ceremony, where one is fully present and mindful, experiencing the ‘here and now.’ The sips seem to help the person unwind and appreciate the moment through all their senses. The use of the word ‘between’ invites readers to pause and take in the scene—whether that moment is brief or lingering. It reflects an aesthetic appreciation of drinking, where tea becomes more than a beverage—it becomes a profound experience for the body, senses, and mind.

The final line presents a beautiful blend: the aroma of tea merging with the smell of petrichor. It’s one of the most powerful combinations—evoking refreshed emotions and thoughts. It feels as though the poet is in perfect harmony with nature, immersed in a moment that is spiritual, nostalgic, and even a little mysterious. Both aromas—the tea and the petrichor—engage the sense of smell, which often requires deep attention and presence to truly notice.

Finally, the repeated ‘e’ sounds throughout the haiku add a soft rhythm, making it feel more musical and sensual.

“Wind and Sea” by HM Saffer

Jacob D. Salzer’s long journey

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

a long journey . . .
in mother’s clothing
the scent of snow

— Jacob D. Salzer (USA)
(published in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 7:1, Autumn/Winter 2023)

Commentary by the poet

In this haiku, I primarily wanted to honor my mother and her long Earth journey (and her soul’s journey, if readers are open-minded to past lives and reincarnation). I am also writing about my mother going for a long walk in the snow and carrying the “outside” into the house. The scent of snow in her coat lingers. I’m also recognizing the long journey of falling snow, as snow falls from miles above us to reach the Earth. I hope this haiku can act as a portal for the reader to reflect on their own mother and her unique journey.

Commentary by the other editors

This haiku sounds simple but carries many stories of life’s journey. A long journey describes a period that may last more than a year or a lifetime. But, it signifies the essence of a trip that has ups and downs, and deep personal experiences. The ellipses stop us for a while and let us ponder the various aspects or types of journeys. I see it as a life’s journey that has myriad phases and stages where the person continuously passes through experiences within the self and with other people.

The second line tells us about the traveller but it still doesn’t show whether she is the one who carries the clothing or is having a long journey. It may have two interpretations. One is that she passes through rigorous experiences i.e. departure, separation, illness, loneliness, etc. The second interpretation would be that someone close to her carries her clothes as a possession.

The last line depicts deep feelings, as the smell of snow can mean something went as cold as snow and leaves painful memories. Another aspect can be the smell of a person that comes from the clothes and the poet may take it as the smell of snow, akin to the lingering memories of a loved one. In both cases, the person remains discreet in expressing their feelings and tries to relate those emotions with the scent of snow, which does not make a sound.

— Hifsa Ashraf

Thinking about the seasonal reference in this haiku, “the scent of snow” is clearly directed at winter. However, a residue of snow could mean that winter has passed and that spring has come. So, the poet could be reexperiencing winter in the time of spring. This could symbolize how the poet feels about his mother’s life or even his life reflected by the one that brought him existence.

The two parts of the haiku combine well in that duration is present in each section. “Long” and “scent” both work to illustrate time passing by. “Journey” relates well to the implied cycle of seasons. With our phases as personalities, they can be representative of seasons—though one season can carry remnants of another season in it. The poet could be referring to how memory sticks to our personalities and in direct connection to his mother, it could mean that his mother has memories “too cold” to burn away.

With the punctuation, which delineates the two-part structure of the haiku, the ellipsis illustrates the duration of the journey. It also makes certain that the reader does not inadvertently read the second line as flowing from the first line.

The pacing emulates the traditional rhythm of Japanese haiku without the restriction of the syllabic count, which is often cited as an erroneous method of matching the format of Japanese haiku. The short/long/short practice is closer to the original haiku rhythm.

Looking at the sound, the letter that jumps out at the reader is “o.” Strewn throughout the poem, it gives a sense of elongation with the long syllables. In my opinion, it also heightens the emotional resonance of the subject of the haiku.

The way human life intermixes with nature in this haiku makes it special. It creates pathos and perhaps something verging on the surreal. A relatable, yet transcendent haiku.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

Winter Scene by Louis Remy Mignot, 1856