Tag: poetry

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”

Haiku and Senryu by John Shiffer, Sathya Venkatesh, and Michael Battisto

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku, Senryu2 Comments

graduation party
every firework ember
falling to earth

— John Shiffer (USA)
Published in Modern Haiku, 56:3, Autumn, 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku captures a bittersweet moment of transition, one that encompasses both endings and new beginnings. The graduation party is a universal milestone, marking a culmination of years of learning, friendships, and youthful freedom. The phrase is straightforward with no punctuation or emotional exaggeration, mirroring the simplicity and shared nature of the experience. It’s a scene most of us can relate to, making it emotionally accessible and real.

The second line acts as a pivot, symbolizing the peak of celebration where fireworks represent excitement, hope, and brilliance. But, there’s a quiet shift as we read “every firework ember/ falling to earth.” The embers, though once radiant, now fall, showing the fleeting nature of youth and celebration. The descent signifies the reality that follows: adulthood, responsibility, and an unknown future.

The closing line, “falling to earth,” deepens the metaphor. It suggests a grounding after a high, a fall not necessarily in failure, but in transition. It’s the movement from a protected world into a vast, unpredictable one. The contrast between the light of the ember and the gravity of its fall is powerful and unique, which lets us reflect on contrasting scenes, suggesting the impermanence and transience of life.

withered flowers 
on the temple chariot
morning twilight

— Sathya Venkatesh (India)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

A powerful haiku that shows impermanence and age-old traditions that have survived over several generations. I see the last line as a metaphor for the mystery of the afterlife. I interpret the morning twilight as a time when our souls continue, long after the physical body (perhaps symbolized by the withered flowers) fades away.

According to Symbolism – Hindu Temple Chariot As Replica Of The Temple by Abhilash Rajendran:

“In many parts of India the sight of a majestic temple chariot rolling slowly through crowded streets is both stirring and sacred. Known as the ratha, these elaborately carved wooden vehicles carry the utsava murti—the processional image of the deity—beyond the temple walls. In effect, the ratha becomes a moving replica of the inner sanctum, bringing the divine presence to every doorstep. This article explores the rich symbolism of the temple chariot, the reasons for its enduring popularity, the profound idea of the god leaving his abode, and many other fascinating facets of this age-old tradition. At its core the ratha is not merely a transport but a microcosm of the temple itself. Every design element echoes architectural features of the permanent shrine: towering pillars reflect temple gopurams, carved panels depict mythic scenes found on sanctum walls, and a miniature vimana (temple tower) crowns the top. When the deity’s image is placed upon this mobile shrine, worshippers are reminded that the chariot is a fully consecrated temple in motion. This replication underlines the belief that the divine resides not only within stone walls but in the very heart of the community.”

I appreciate the notion of seeing the divine in the ordinary. It speaks to a universal compassion that is quite powerful as it transcends our many differences and unites people.

In summary, this is a powerful haiku that sparks deep conversations about age-old spiritual and religious traditions, the impermanence of our brief human lives, the importance of community, and the mystery of the afterlife. Equally important, it shows a kind of compassion that’s universal, revealing divinity or spiritual energy within all people. A beautiful haiku.

protesters marching
wearing
sweatshop shoes

— Michael Battisto (USA)
Published in Modern Haiku 52:1, 2021

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

This senryu hinges on irony and ethical tension—a hallmark of the genre’s focus on human behavior. The opening line, protesters marching, shows collectivity and moral purpose. However, as is often the case in senryu, this one ends with a shock of hypocrisy.

The second line, wearing, sets up the suspense for the third line. It is a fine use of enjambment, and the line matches the first line with prominent “e” and “r” sounds to create euphony.

The final line, sweatshop shoes, delivers the punchline—with more euphony. The imagery exposes an uncomfortable contradiction: even with good intentions, we are irrevocably contributing to ubiquitous and exploitative companies. Living in the modern world, we would have to live off the grid to fully rid ourselves of these greedy practices—even with something as simple as shoes. With a masterful stroke, the poet refrains from judgmental language, allowing the irony to speak for itself.

The poem’s emotional effect is quiet but sharp. It provokes self-reflection rather than outrage, as the reader is implicated alongside the protesters. In this way, this senryu eventually centers on empathy. The march continues but with an unresolved weight on its feet.

Utagawa Hiroshige I (1797–1858, Japan), Fireworks at Ryogoku (bridge), #98 from the One Hundred Famous Views of Edos eries,1858. Color woodcut print on paper, 14 3/16″ x 9 7/16″ (36 x 24 cm). © 2017 Brooklyn Museum. (BMA-822)

Haiku by Neena Singh, Anne Kulou, and Sheikha A. 

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku4 Comments

border outpost—
the sandbag wall
sprouts weeds 

— Neena Singh (India)
hedgerow, #150, October 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

War and conflict-related haiku often resonate deeply with me, as the theme aligns with one of my core areas of interest. This particular poem instantly takes me to a tense border outpost, where I can almost sense the presence of surveillance and patrolling troops. It evokes not just conflict but the psychological barrier that accompanies division and hostility. Symbolically, it’s not the border itself that divides people but the mindset behind it. The em dash after line one adds a subtle pause, creating a link that suggests a deeper association with the border, both physically and ideologically.

The sandbag wall can be seen as a symbol of protection, whether from natural disasters or human threats. It creates a barrier not just to movement but to differing narratives or perspectives. Yet, sand itself represents adaptability as it adjusts itself according to the environment. In this way, the wall becomes a sign of both hurdles and resilience.

The final line, ‘sprouts weeds,’ brings in a hope in a tough element that cannot be stopped, even in a rigid and controlled environment. Weeds may be seen as unwelcome, but they are also symbols of persistence and continuity. Their presence suggests that even in the most restricted areas, life finds a way. It may also hint at the unresolved histories that cannot be buried or walled off entirely and may continue to resurface despite the suppressed and difficult conditions.

Finally, the soft ‘s’ and ‘w’ sounds add to the haiku’s depth, echoing wind, whispering secrets, hushed tension, and quiet movements.  

the faint hum
of the hallway light—
still breathing

— Anne Kulou (Germany)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

This haiku explores a quiet moment in which the hum of artificial light becomes a mirror to the poet’s sense of aliveness. The crux of this poem lies in this interaction between the environment and inner self, which is often employed in the best haiku, as seen in poets like Basho, Santoka, Chiyo-ni, and Tohta.

The poem lacks a kigo or seasonal reference, but it definitely has a mood. In my opinion, the atmosphere of the haiku leans towards winter or late autumn, when nights are long, and people stay indoors. The absence of a kigo is not a weakness, as many haiku are traditionally written as non-seasonal, named muki haiku. As more people live in urban environments, non-seasonal haiku is likely to become more prevalent.

With the em dash in the first line, the poet creates a cut, or kireji, that separates the two parts of the haiku. It also brings about a sense of immediacy, whereas with an ellipsis, the reader would think it is more of a continuous scene. The choice of an em dash makes the haiku more raw and present.

In looking at the toriawase, or harmony/combination of parts, the monotonous hum of a hallway light mixes with the continuity of breathing. It demonstrates a synthesis between the human-made world and humanity itself. The word “hum” even suggests that the light is breathing, too. Also, the word “faint” is most likely a reflection of how the poet is feeling in comparison to the light fixture. In this sense, the poet and the light fixture become connected, and fraternity grows between them.

Exploring the haiku on a sonic level, the letter “h” stands out the most. “hum” and “hallway” hit a punctuated, yet light rhythm. Other soft consonants like f, m, l, th, and br help to make the haiku “hum” like the scene in the poem.

The pacing of the haiku is traditional in terms of Japanese haiku rhythm, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short last line. This pacing lends to the content well, as it gives the haiku an introspective air. The diction is also casual and direct, which is aligned with haiku tradition.

This haiku seamlessly blends past and present aesthetics. With foundational elements of haiku, the poet explores a non-seasonal, urban environment that turns towards self-reflection with artistic precision.

autumn rose 
on his car’s dashboard
—blind date night 

— Sheikha A. (Dubai, United Arab Emirates)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An intriguing haiku that explores the psychological complexity of a blind date.

The autumn rose as the first line is intriguing by itself, as roses are typically associated with spring. It seems the autumn rose signifies that something or someone has passed away, and there is an unfolding or rebirth of some kind. The man’s previous partner may have passed away, or they may have separated, and now the poet is open to dating again.

A blind date can have a wide range of outcomes, as both people rely on their intuition and questions to get to know each other better, though first impressions can be deceiving. Leaving a rose on the dashboard could show that the man has a hopeful mindset, or it could be a sign that he may be trying too hard to make a first impression. In the dating world, for many people, it is a competition. Who is going to find a true and lasting partner? Perhaps the rose is a way to try to stand out from the crowd. In this haiku, the blind date could have been going to a drive-in movie, or the poet could be saying goodbye and noticed the rose while walking past his car in the parking lot. Was the rose meant for the poet, and he decided not to give it to her? Did he give her the rose, and she didn’t accept it? Or was the rose meant for someone else and was left behind from a previous date? There is some mystery. The autumn rose signifies how so much of our communication is non-verbal. The transient beauty of the rose also comes with thorns, which seem to signify danger and/or protection. Indeed, all relationships have a degree of risk as trust is gradually established. The autumn rose could also relate to how a blind date doesn’t last long but can have its own beauty, even if the blind date doesn’t find rich soil that blossoms into a romantic relationship.

The term “blind date” also has room for more than one meaning. Aside from not knowing the person, what are we blind to within our own self? Sometimes, the person on the blind date can be a kind of mirror that reflects something within ourselves that we didn’t notice or pay attention to.

In summary, this is an interesting haiku that explores the psychological depth and complexity of relationships and dating.

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