Haiku by Anthony Lusardi, Douglas J. Lanzo, and Minh-Triêt Pham 

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



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

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 HuntBird’s Nest with Sprays of Apple Blossoms, circa 1847

Haiku by Michael Shoemaker, Anthony Lusardi, and Richard L. Matta

morning campfire smoke
curls and rises above pines
meadowlark’s sing-song

Michael Shoemaker (USA)
Under the Bashō, June 24, 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The first line of this 5/7/5 haiku tells us the time and space where one can directly imagine the whole scene before going into the details. A morning campfire can be used for warming the ambience, a get-together, cooking, etc. In any case, a campfire usually is a sign of lively activities. Adding smoke makes this haiku a bit more profound and mystical. Is it just smoke and no fire? Does it happen before or after the fire? 

The second line is more focused on the details of the smoke, curling and rising above the pines. This leaves our imagination to run wild and to think of the shape, structure, intensity, and smell of smoke. The second line could be about how smoke overshadows nature. It may be a sign of air pollution adding toxicity to the pines, which is a symbol of purity.

The meadowlark’s sing-song could be a sign of alertness depending on the pitch. For me, it may be more like a complaint or a reaction to smoke/pollution—probably in the form of a sad melody we commonly ignore. The other aspect to consider is how nature responds to our acts of toxicity with sweet melodies. The meadowlark’s song demonstrates resistance and determination in the form of music and voice.

This haiku, in its simplicity, describes a story of our actions to spread pollution and toxicants and nature’s response to it.

gloaming . . .
a spider clings to                
her egg sac

Anthony Lusardi (USA)
tsuri-doro, issue #19, Jan/Feb 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer

“Gloaming” means twilight or dusk, but it can also mean sullenness and melancholy. I appreciate how this haiku shows a mother’s love and protection with the verb “clings” and the egg sac. The mother spider is protecting her eggs from something or perhaps many things. We don’t know what dangers might be present for the spider and her eggs, which opens the door to our imagination. Dusk or twilight effectively sets the mood and atmosphere of the poem, as light fades into darkness. With that in mind, this haiku might have a somewhat haunting atmosphere as what is visible becomes invisible, yet there is still enough light for the poet to capture this moment. As the night deepens, we enter the Great Mystery. In short, this is an effective haiku that gives us a glimpse of a mother’s love for her soon-to-be children, which can apply to other creatures, insects, and mammals as well.

pinewood derby
still missing the weight 
of dad’s touch

Richard L. Matta (USA)
1st Place Senryu, Kaji Aso Studio, 35th International Haiku Contest 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

This senryu tapped into my memories, as I participated in pinewood derbies when I was a young lad with my father. More than that, this senryu uses the word “weight” effectively to have a double meaning of the physical weight of the cars and the emotional/spiritual weight of a father’s presence. “Missing” could imply that the poet’s father has either passed away or is out of contact—leaving that justly up to the reader to interpret.

I also enjoyed the sound in this senryu, with the letters “o” and “w” prominently featured. The instances of “o” contribute to the senryu being slowed down and savored, whereas “w” manifests an airy feeling to the poem. In my opinion, both of these attributes complement the context in which the senryu is written. Lastly, the senryu is efficiently written with only nine words, simple language, and excellent pacing in the line breaks. It is clear why this senryu won an award: it not only resonates with readers effortlessly but also demonstrates a keen understanding of the technical aspects of senryu.

Illustration by Louis Agassiz Fuertes of an Eastern Meadowlark (Sturnella magna), from The Burgess Bird Book for Children (1919)