Tag: Senryu

Haiku and senryu by Srini, Danny Blackwell, and Tuyet Van Do

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku1 Comment

starlit pond…
a paper boat floats
for light years

— Srini (India)
Tinywords, 25:2, October 3, 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku transports us into a quiet, enclosed space—perhaps a park, a backyard, or a secluded garden. The opening image is enchanting and dreamy: a starlit pond blurs the line between sky and earth, mirroring the cosmos in its still waters. The ellipsis at the end of the first line invites a pause, allowing the reader to absorb the magic of the moment. I can almost see a tapestry of stars delicately reflected on the pond’s surface.

The second line introduces a subtle shift: a paper boat floats on the water. It acts as both an interruption and an anchor—drawing us back from reverie into something tangible and innocent. The boat may symbolize a small dream, a fleeting hope, or a playful childhood memory. Its fragility contrasts with the vastness of the sky, evoking a sense of childlike wonder and gentle yearning.

The closing line, “for light years,” broadens the scale dramatically, allowing us to feel the vastness of our universe. This simple phrase goes beyond time and space, suggesting a desire for an unending journey or an unreachable dream, sort of imaginative, but still holds some meaning. It transforms the scene into something meditative—where a single paper boat becomes a bridge between the earth and the cosmos, a bridge that also connects a dream with reality. It seems one is thoroughly enjoying the surreal environment that inspires them to see beyond limited vision and express one’s longing in the most beautiful and innocent way.

the mosquito mesh
pixelating
the night

— Danny Blackwell (Spain)
NHK TV program Haiku Masters, July 31, 2017. Reprinted in tiny words 17:2

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

With the mention of “mosquito,” we could be receiving a kigo (seasonal reference), as they are most active during the warmer months—especially in June and July. Summer, as it relates to pixelation, can be likened to something overwhelming.

There is no explicit kireji (marker for the cut between parts in a haiku), but the line breaks act as a quasi one. The flow of the haiku can be read as one part, yet it is broken down as a pixelated mesh would be. This brings the reader more into the “space” of the poem.

The mosquito mesh is dual-acting: keeping out mosquitoes but also a catalyst for altered perception. As a person who used to work in information technology, I have often thought about the poetic implications of mesh and it being like pixelation. It is a visual metaphor drawn from the digital realm that plays with mundane texture. The mesh breaks the darkness of night into fragments, perhaps making it more manageable and less oppressive. This toriawase (combination of elements to create harmony) of the analog and digital invites multiple readings, with the word “night” having physical and metaphysical implications. “Night” could be indicative of a sadness, a horror, or a malaise.

The mesh could also be illustrative of the distance between intimacy and separation. The poet is close enough to notice the effect of the mesh, yet the mesh itself signifies a boundary between inside and outside, human and nature, the safe and the wild. It is a contemplative image that captures the modern condition: the world increasingly filtered, fragmented, and mediated through invisible grids.

With the repetition of t and i sounds, I can almost hear the tick of mosquitoes against the net and their whining. Overall, it is a haiku that expresses succinctly and poignantly a bridge between technology and the natural world, and the false divide we put up between nature and humanity.

emergency room
an elderly patient
rocking back and forth

— Tuyet Van Do (Australia) 
Pulse, 19th September 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

The emergency room (ER) is a tough place to be, for a variety of reasons. While there is a triage process that’s designed for providers to first see patients with the most severe injuries and diseases, a lot of people end up in the waiting room for anywhere between 2 to 3 hours (or sometimes more) before being seen by a provider. The ER can be a crowded place. I’m personally a strong advocate for preventing diseases and injuries, though some things are hard or impossible to avoid. In this senryu, I first saw the ER waiting room full of people, and then noticed the elderly patient rocking back and forth. This movement could help create a soothing rhythm in the midst of what is often chaos and uncertainty. The elderly person could be rocking back and forth as they wait for the doctor or test results. While the ER can be a very difficult place to be, it’s also often a place of healing, recovery, and discovering what’s gone wrong.

We don’t know what the patient is going through in this senryu, but when I read this poem, I immediately feel compassion and empathy for the elderly person and for the human condition. It’s never easy being human, and it gets increasingly more common for things to go wrong in the body and mind as we age.

While this poem may seem simple on the surface, there are layers of psychological and medical complexity that I appreciate. A well-written senryu that offers a portal into another world.

Painting by Hisae Shouse

Haiku by Martina Matijević, Anthony Lusardi, and Paul Callus

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

dusty teddy bear   
brushing off   
my childhood 

— Martina Matijević (Croatia)  

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku evokes a tender yet bittersweet moment of reconnection with the past. The “dusty teddy bear” serves as a symbol of childhood, once cherished, now forgotten, or stored away. Dust here is not just physical but metaphorical, suggesting the passage of time and emotional distance where one may have fading memories of childhood.

The middle line, “brushing off,” is beautifully ambiguous, yet letting the person find some clarity into their childhood. It implies a physical act where cleaning the toy hints at revisiting or even confronting long-buried memories. There’s a subtle emotional movement in this line: care, nostalgia, and perhaps a trace of reluctance. This is how one reverts back to their past life with a little bit of effort and time.

The final line, “my childhood,” brings a sense of closure. The teddy bear becomes a gateway to personal history, and the speaker, by brushing it off, also dusts off a part of themselves. The haiku captures a universal experience, how a small object can unlock an entire era of feeling. It’s delicate, reflective, and deeply human.

Lastly, the sound of consonants b and d in this haiku strikes deep yet strong feelings that might have brought back some vivid memories of childhood.

blind date
a wildflower                           
my app can’t identify

— Anthony Lusardi (USA)
Prune Juice, August issue, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The senryu opens with “blind date,” situating the poem in the modern social world. It’s also a circumstance that many of us can identify with. Usually, “blind date” senryu have elements of humor. So, as a reader, I immediately expected a comical twist.

The second line introduces “a wildflower”—a counterpoint to the digital world referred to in the third line. The wildflower symbolizes something growing outside expected boundaries and a sense of freedom. In traditional haiku aesthetics, a wildflower often embodies sabi (rustic beauty), yet here in this senryu, it is employed in a playful way where the poet’s date is implied to be a “wildflower,” and notes how romance or love is often indescribable.

The closing line captures the tension between technology’s attempt to categorize the world and the irreducible mystery of human connection. There’s an irony in our dependence on apps to “know” what’s what—even as what truly matters (the person on the blind date) resists such identification.

Overall, the humor is understated—a hallmark of senryu—but carries emotional resonance. Beneath the joke about the app’s failure is a quiet longing for authenticity, for something not optimized or labeled.

Checking in on the sense of sound, the w and f sounds give both emphasis and a wispy feeling to the poem. With the format, the last line is long, yet it is not an issue since not only is this a senryu (which doesn’t focus on format much), but the line breaks seem natural.

Ultimately, I chose to comment on this senryu because of its mixing of technology, romance, and playful use of nature. I was happy to see it appear in the prestigious journal, Prune Juice.

monsoon rain
over the paddy fields
a flight of dragonflies

— Paul Callus (Malta)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

This is an interesting haiku that shows the after-effects of a monsoon in the paddy fields where rice is grown. According to the National Environmental Satellite, Data, and Information Service: “A monsoon is a shift in winds that often causes a very rainy season or a very dry season. Although monsoons are usually associated with parts of Asia, they can happen in many tropical and subtropical regions – including several locations in the United States. Monsoons are caused by a change in the direction of the wind that happens when the seasons change. In fact, even the word monsoon comes from the Arabic word mausim, which means ‘season.’ At the beginning of summer, the land warms up faster than bodies of water. Monsoon winds always blow from cold to warm. In the summer, warm air rising off the land creates conditions that reverse the direction of the wind.”

In this haiku, the extreme weather of heavy monsoon rains is contrasted with the silent and delicate flight of dragonflies. Traditionally, dragonflies are an autumn kigo (seasonal reference). The flight of dragonflies could symbolize a human migration, i.e., perhaps the farmers in the paddy fields are also temporarily migrating due to the heavy rains, as summer fades into autumn.

On the other hand, according to the World Population Review: “The most common method of cultivating rice involves flooding the field, a practice typically carried out in what’s known as a rice paddy. This helps water and protect the plant from vermin and disease.” Therefore, the monsoon rains can help cultivate rice, though it’s more difficult to work in the paddy fields during the downpour.

Despite the potential melancholy interpretation relating to the autumn kigo, I can’t help but feel hope, courage, and resilience in this haiku: even in the heavy monsoon rains, the dragonflies are flying together. I think the plural form of “dragonflies” is special because I normally only see one dragonfly at any given moment. While there are likely two dragonflies in this haiku, it could also be enjoyable to imagine several dragonflies flying together.

In short, this is a significant haiku that shows resilience, a seasonal shift, and offers a portal into the lives of farmers who work tirelessly in the paddy fields to grow and cultivate rice. More interesting facts about rice can be found on the World Population Review website.

Painting by Ernest Barbaric

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, Ranu Jain, and John Paul Caponigro

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku7 Comments

carefully
a stranger’s footsteps
in the shoemaker’s hands

— Robert Witmer (Japan)
Modern Haiku, 54.3, Autumn 2023

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An intriguing haiku that can be read in at least two different ways. On first read, I see a shoemaker repairing someone’s shoes. The shoemaker doesn’t know this stranger, and yet performs a service. This involves a great deal of care and caution. The shoes themselves tell stories based on their appearance. I appreciate how the details of the shoes are left to the reader.

This haiku could also encourage us to contemplate where shoes come from. However, on a broader scope, this haiku involves a deep contemplation on where everything that we wear comes from. 

In short, this is an interesting psychological haiku that focuses on a worker’s interactions with the public. This is also a haiku that adds to an important conversation about work, the economy, and the making of shoes (and everything that we wear). A significant haiku.

waterfall picnic
all our music
live streamed

— Ranu Jain (Australia)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The humor in this haiku or senryu is at once amusing and deep. The jocular aspect of it is the pun in the word “streamed,” which relates to both the streaming water and the modern trend of streaming music online. The poet could be having a picnic with friends or family and playing music, with the waterfall “streaming” the sound to everyone in the vicinity. The more subtle viewpoint is that we have gotten so attached to being online that we have forgotten that nature’s music is all around us. A waterfall, a bird, the stones beneath our feet—nature is creating music constantly. The trick is to spare a moment to listen. We don’t need to pay for subscriptions or own devices. Live streaming music in nature is free and without hidden agendas.

Thinking about the kigo or seasonal reference, “picnic” is most likely placed in spring or summer. This points to the abundance that is illustrated by the presence of waterfalls and music all around us. So, I would say the poet used the association of the kigo and the content as a comparison.

The poet hit the target of being brief, with only seven words in the haiku or senryu. Another principle the poet touched on is the simplicity of language and the accessibility of its reading. The last line delivers a fun “aha” moment that is reminiscent of many other great haiku and senryu. With the lack of punctuation acting as a kireji and the usage of puns, I would venture to say this lands more into senryu territory. However, the labels of haiku and senryu are often not as clear and not as distinct as in the Japanese tradition, as compared to the Western haiku tradition.

Sonically, the poet integrated the sounds of the waterfall with the letter “l” flowing through the poem. The hard yet lilting “l” sounds connect well to the power and melody of the waterfall. A fun yet subtle haiku or senryu.

leaving one shell 
for another 
hermit crab

— John Paul Caponigro (USA)
Cattails, April 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

It appears to be a simple haiku at first glance. Yet, it reflects a process of abandonment, transformation, adaptation, and survival. The first line in the haiku primarily shows signs of detachment. The reasons may vary from natural causes, such as molting and infection, to abandonment. But, it is how circumstances push the hermit to leave its shell that has protected it for a long time. It also demonstrates the evolving phases of life that never remain stagnant.

The second line in this haiku, ‘for another’, is about transformation, adaptation, and readiness for a change, like we all do in life. The hermit crab may not fit in the old one or may face discomfort due to growth, infection, or other factors. This means it has no choice but to find another shell, another protective shield, or another phase that helps it to move on in life. We all have the same process in life: a childhood protective shield is usually provided by parents or loved ones, and when we grow up, we have to leave that bubble for another, which makes us independent. It may be our social circle, new friends, life partners, etc. So, our lives are not different from the changing phases of a hermit crab. I like the way the poet shared the development first without punctuation so that the reader can wander from one aspect to another without any clue until the closing line. It prompts us to ponder the different stages of life that are more evolutionary in nature. It also pushes us to think about how attachment and detachment, adoption and adaptation, stagnation and transformation, make our lives dynamic.

The deeper side of this haiku resonated with me after reading it. It depicts mysticism where we abandon the materialistic life and search for another one, which is more satisfying, simple, subtle, and calm. It illustrates how we detach from the physical shell of life to find the spiritual or mystical shell. Not only that, but it forms the stages of life that lead to the path of selflessness, mindfulness, and nothingness, where we abandon our materialistic life by transforming it. It is possible to achieve this through resilience, flexibility, acceptance, and readiness to change. This is how a crab, or a person, becomes a hermit and lives a healthier, peaceful, and prosperous life. I think this is the true essence of evolution as well. 

Painting by Achille Etna Michallon (1796–1822) 


Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Joanna Ashwell, and Manasa Reddy Chichili

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

plucked jasmine
a funeral
        on my hands

— Kala Ramesh (India)
The Heron’s Nest: Volume XXIV, Number 1: March 2022

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Jasmine not only has a powerful scent but also has far-reaching symbolism in rites and rituals. In India, jasmine is a common flower used as garlands for the deceased. The scent of the flower is so strong that it often can linger on the hands of the person handling it. In this haiku, the poet creates emotional resonance with the contrast of death and the continuance of scent (or life) after an offering. Interestingly, due to the phrasing, the funeral mentioned could refer to a person or the flower itself.

The word “plucked” connects well to the theme of death, as after a flower is plucked, it eventually withers. The poet may be saying that like plucked jasmine, when people die, our scent is left behind in the form of memories, passed on wisdom, and life work. The phrase “on my hands” has a dual meaning of physically being on one’s hands and also a sense of responsibility. With added space in the third line, I believe Kala is illustrating the weight the funeral is having on her and the responsibility she feels in taking care of this rite. It is also a unique concept to see one’s hands as a funeral, which leads readers much to mull over.

Traditionally, jasmine is a kigo or seasonal reference for spring. In India, jasmine can blossom from spring to autumn. Overall, I propose that in the context of this haiku, Kala may have been increasing the resonating contrast of spring with the end of life.

The poem is quite efficient with only seven words. This effectiveness doubles with the usage of multiple meanings with “plucked” and “on my hands,” plus the employment of physical space in the third line. In terms of sound, the most outstanding letter is “l,” where the reader can almost feel the action of being plucked.

There are many ways for readers to imagine the haiku in existence and that is one of the strengths of this poem. Kala allows the “white space” in the haiku to speak and the result is a multi-layered poem that connects to the deeper recesses of our spiritual self.

chaffinch call
a brief burst
of sunshine

— Joanna Ashwell (UK)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, issue 3:2, Spring/Summer 2020

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

Chaffinches call for many reasons, i.e. rain, warnings, mating, or interactions with each other. The chaffinch, a little bird, is a symbol of positivity, happiness, and good tidings. The call of a chaffinch is being heard by the poet or a keen observer, which shows how nature attracts our senses in different ways. Chaffinches have a soft tune when they chirp. When a person hears their call, it is in a calm and quiet place i.e. park, forest/jungle, garden, meadow, etc. The word ‘call’ instead of ‘chirp’ indicates that it is for a purpose. Having no ellipses at the end of line one allows us to interpret it in our own way. 

The rest of the haiku defines or specifies the chaffinch’s call which may be related to a pre-rain or post-rain situation. “A brief burst” is purely a seasonal expression here with some great analogies, i.e. a brief burst of joy, hope, laughter, or related feelings after a hopeless, cloudy, hazy day, or feelings. I see it as a sudden change in weather where the sun is playing hide and seek with clouds akin to the ups and downs in life where we need a call or news that can break gloomy feelings or thoughts. 

The third line of this haiku implies positive energy and life hidden in the sunshine which soothes our senses and changes our feelings/thoughts and ultimately our mood. If it is a pre-rain or post-rain circumstance, then ‘sunshine’ could mean brightness and light that makes us calm and positive after a rough patch or harsh weather.

I love this haiku because of its simplicity and expression. It shows how deeply our lives are connected with nature and how much we depend on it both internally and externally. 

Also, the sounds of ‘ch’, ‘s’, and ‘b’ make this haiku rhythmic and allow us to enjoy reading it while imagining the chaffinch’s call.

empty bowl
so many thoughts
singing in my heart

— Manasa Reddy Chichili (India)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, Volume 8:1 Autumn/Winter 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

I appreciate this haiku because, in the empty bowl, the poet’s heart and mind are full and overflowing with thoughts and images. The notion of “so many thoughts singing in my heart” gives me clear feelings of gratitude, harmony, and abundance. I appreciate how the value of the empty bowl becomes apparent in this haiku without explaining it. When each of us looks into the empty bowl, what do we see? 

This haiku could also involve a lack of food. I can see the poet holding the empty bowl, perhaps asking for food on a street. Even in this interpretation, the poet seems to be fulfilled in their spirit, even if food is scarce. In turn, I think of how food is sacred and not something to be wasted. The poet (and perhaps others) could have also just finished eating a meal and all that remains are so many thoughts of loved ones who are living and those who have passed.

I can also see a singing bowl in this haiku. This special bowl sings precisely because it is empty. 

This haiku also resonates with the well-known Buddhist saying from the Heart Sutra, “All form is emptiness. All emptiness is form.” Thoughts rise and fall, but only in what could be called a sacred silence. In a way, we could be seen as images of the invisible.

What songs can we sing to those we love in this lifetime? 

This is a moving haiku we can contemplate and experience without overly analyzing it. It is personal yet universal at the same time and accessible. We can each experience the poem in our own way. A beautiful haiku.

Painting by William Morris (1834-1896). Original from The Birmingham Museum.



Haiku by Goran Gatalica, Manoj Sharma, and Jennifer Gurney

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

between the hills
blown away like the seeds
a shepherd’s song

— Goran Gatalica (Croatia)
Basho-an Award, The 6th Basho-an International English Haiku Competition, 2023

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

A powerful haiku that includes multiple senses. There are four images in this haiku (the hills, the seeds, the shepherd, and the sheep). There are two sounds (the wind and the shepherd’s song), and there is a silence in the seeds, hills, and sheep, and in the shepherd, especially after the song is over.

In the first line, cemeteries are sometimes found on hills. This potential reference to death contrasts with the seeds symbolizing birth, although I actually see cycles of life and death vs. a stark contrast. 

In terms of sound, it’s interesting to note how the shepherd’s song travels farther between the hills. I can hear the song in the wind, which adds sonic depth. The sonic quality of “b” and “ee” seems to create an eerie feeling, while “away” and “song” seem to support a feeling of longing. I also usually see wind as a reference to a passing soul or souls. When we pass away, what seeds do we want to leave behind? The seeds could even be seen as seeds of karma, which implies the cycles of life and death and reincarnation.

The common definition of a shepherd is: (1) One who herds, guards, and tends sheep. However, a second definition is: (2) One who cares for and guides a group of people, as a minister or teacher. This second definition adds another layer to this haiku. Is the shepherd teaching a group of people through a song? What does the shepherd’s song sound like? Is it a spiritual song or a religious hymn? There is an inclination that this is an old song passed down through several generations. However, it could also be a new song. What are the lyrics? Where did this song come from? And what does it mean? The shepherd’s song could be one of hope, as seeds can be symbols of hope. However, the seeds may have been carried too far by the wind and perhaps didn’t land in healthy soil. In that case, perhaps this is a song of both hope and sorrow. Indeed, the words “blown away” seem to contain a clear sense of melancholy. There is also a sense of deep time in this haiku, as the hills are ancient.

In short, this is an interesting haiku that can be read from different perspectives. It is a deep and thoughtful haiku that asks us to consider our place on Earth, our ancestors, and Divinity. This haiku also asks us to contemplate our souls, our brief lives on Earth, and the afterlife.

looking back
at my younger self. . .
sun-kissed mangoes

— Manoj Sharma (Nepal)
Modern Haiku 55.2 : Summer 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

We cherish and miss our youth the most because it is full of adventures. I can feel this kind of youth in this haiku. The person is reminiscing about being young—the phase of life where one usually has the energy and freedom to do the things one wants. The narrator seems to be old enough that he finds it difficult to move on and reminisce about a time in his life that was opposite to his current self. So, in line one, looking back is not simply the remembrance of youth but also wishing to have the same energies or seeking solace in youth.

The second line ‘at my younger self’ with ellipses makes us pause for a while by asking some questions i.e. is this a photo or portrait, is he looking at a reflection in a mirror or in the water? A vivid memory? It seems the person is going through a transformation i.e. from middle adulthood to late adulthood. It is the most difficult time especially when one feels it mentally, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. It seems as if one self is departing and replacing another one, which is probably feeble. 

The last line in this haiku is really interesting and makes it more dynamic. Sun-kissed mangoes are definitely a beautiful analogy to the time of youth when mangoes not only ripen in the sun but also have their best taste. It shows how a youthful life flows like pulpy and juicy mangoes, which are sweet and provide energy. Sun-kissed mangoes as a kigo also show the beauty, care, and connection of nature with different phases of our lives. On the other hand, I see it as a very romantic and loving expression where a person fully enjoys one’s youth being surrounded by loved ones and expresses their feelings fully. 

your ratty sneakers
hanging out in the garage
as if you’re still here

— Jennifer Gurney (USA)
Five Fleas, March 17, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Having had several close members of my family pass away, this haiku resonates with me. It can connect with many readers, as the circumstance described is commonplace yet emotionally potent. The “ratty sneakers” become alive, serving in stead of the deceased (or possibly distant) important person. They transform into a representation of the mystery individual or even an independent entity that takes on a life of its own. There is also an irony in ratty sneakers becoming so poignant. It demonstrates that with emotional weight, any object can be of significance. This relates to the Japanese aesthetic concept of aware, which denotes how a physical object can trigger a personal or spiritual response.

The writing style of the haiku is extremely relaxed and natural. I believe this is what the great master Basho advocated for with his concept karumi. There is no particular kigo or seasonal reference. However, the poet may have been aiming more for a senryu or simply did not see the importance of adding a kigo. Either way, the poem does well with the subject matter and descriptions, giving us just enough for us to imagine and feel deeply.

The pace of the poem approximates the traditional Japanese haiku rhythm, which comes out to a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line in English. The effectiveness of the haiku/senryu also is seen in its conciseness, with no word out of place. Finally, the sound of the poem propels its atmosphere further. I especially enjoy the “r” sounds, which provide weight, and the letter “s” which appears to slow down the reading so we can take in the poem better.

This is a poem that looks like it was written with the utmost ease yet it has several layers of meaning and feeling. Most importantly, it can easily connect to readers and move them to memories of loved ones and the power of objects that surround us.

“The Shepard,” a painting by Alexander Roche (1861-1921)

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

Samo Kreutz’s thousand ways

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku, SenryuLeave a comment

kid’s bed
a thousand ways
to disappear

— Samo Kreutz (Slovenia)
(previously published in THF Haiku Dialogue, December 2022)

Commentary

I greatly appreciate the imaginative space of this haiku. This haiku transports readers into books, stories, and dreams. As a child, my parents would read to my sister and I. These are wonderful memories that I cherish. It seems in our modern world, it can be easy to forget the imagination, but when we do this, I think we all pay the price. I feel our imagination is important because it opens our hearts and minds, and can lead to many different perspectives and creative ideas.

I feel “a thousand ways to disappear” is a great way to express being completely immersed in a book, story, or dream. 

This is a touching haiku that shows the power of the imagination, stories, and dreams.

— Jacob D. Salzer

A lovely haiku that covers the stories of almost every person as a child. It shows the tangible and intangible aspects of life where a child’s bed is taken as a symbol of relief where one seeks solace and catharsis. The bed helps a child to become calm and have an uninterrupted environment where they can play, sleep, dream, and listen to stories. It’s a place that takes them to another world where they can freely think, feel, and do whatever they want.

It’s a domain where there are a thousand ways to see life differently when they are on their own and where all senses converge to provide a holistic perspective that is calm and content. Adults might desire to disappear into childhood memories, to feel nostalgic, or to have deep imagination/daydreaming that keeps them away from this chaotic world. I see this as an escape from reality where a person goes back to their childhood and gets lost in a time that was carefree and without responsibilities.

— Hifsa Ashraf

There is no distinct kigo or seasonal reference here. That is fine, especially since it can fit in the genre of senryu. There is a time placement of early childhood, though.

The way the two parts of the poem fit together is intriguing. Something as overlooked as a kid’s bed as an adult is given special appreciation. The word “disappear” is the most crucial, in my opinion. It connects to both adult and child selves. The juxtaposition in this haiku or senryu reminds me of the saying, “From one, comes many.”

There is no punctuation in the poem besides the needed apostrophe. This gives more of a case for fitting in the senryu genre. However, the line between haiku and senryu, especially in English, is often rather thin.

The pacing, with a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line, is common practice in the English-language haiku world to approximate the Japanese rhythm of haiku.

The concision in which the poem is written is commendable. The poet uses just the right amount of words with the most effective phrasing. It is fitting for such a simple, yet poignant subject. The chosen diction is on point as well for the mood of the poem.

The sound of the letter “d” in this poem is key. It provides weight to the poem and a staccato rhythm, which connects to “thousands” in an abstract way.

With a mastery of simple power, the poet delivers a nostalgic and perhaps melancholic form of celebration.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky

BEDROOM IN ARLES | THE BEDROOM | 1889 | VINCENT VAN GOGH

Royal Baysinger’s who 

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku, Senryu1 Comment

not there
to remind me who’s who
— your funeral

– Royal Baysinger (Canada)

(previously published in Frogpond 45.2 & skipping stones: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2022)

Commentary

The structure of this haiku is different from the usual haiku but it provides enough room to think about the message the poet wants to share with us. At first glance, I feel it’s simply a flow of ongoing thoughts about a sad reality. The thoughts don’t need to be rearranged to make them perfect for readers. We can easily comprehend what is being said without focusing more on the style of this haiku.

The opening line ‘not there’ without ellipses lets our thoughts wander until we relate it to our personal experiences or observations. I paused for a while to think about the deep meaning of these two words that may sound meaningless if there is nothing after them. But, when I read them in the context they are given, they make a lot of sense—especially when I see them in physical and mental contexts. Who is not there? Myself? Others? Or, the person who is no more? In simple words, it’s a void that has been left after the death of a person where the person who is mourning is trying to relate it to their thoughts and/or feelings.

The second line gives meaning to the first line yet it is a mystery who is reminding that person. And, who’s who? The poet has beautifully left room for us to find answers to these questions by relating our personal experiences to them. We all pass through grief and mourn over the death of our dear ones and we all somehow pass through the same feelings where certain questions are left unanswerable. Within the context of this haiku, it illustrates the feelings of a mourner who is all alone and facing difficulties in dealing with people who are in a close circle. In other words, it’s about handling social relationships which were previously handled by the deceased one. It shows a lot of dependence of one person on another which has ended now. Also, it demonstrates how we are related to each other in a wide social network and how we need each other to strengthen our sense of belonging.

Looking at the punctuation, the em dash in the third line provides a long pause to the third line which allows us to see the whole poem from different angles. ‘Your’ may address one person or every person in society. In both cases, it projects the significance of a funeral as an event that reveals who belongs to whom and how life becomes different after the departure of a person from one’s life. 

– Hifsa Ashraf

I feel this haiku speaks to the value of one person in our families and communities. I like the humbling reminder of the interconnectedness of life. I also appreciate the subjects of identity and memory. 

This haiku reminds me of my mother and her social connections. Throughout her life, she has connected so many people in mysterious and meaningful ways.

Also, this haiku brings me an overwhelming sense of sadness, love, and gratitude for the person who passed away. I get the sense that many people came to their funeral. Because of this, I feel the poet is moved by not only all the people he recognizes (even without remembering their names) but also by all the people he has never seen before. The life of each person has a ripple effect with wide rings echoing in the cosmos in ways the limited mind cannot fully understand.

I feel this haiku is a humbling reminder that one person is never truly alone and that life is connected in mysterious, subtle, and meaningful ways.

This is a beautiful and powerful haiku that speaks to love, gratitude, and our limited time here in human bodies.

– Jacob D. Salzer

This could be classified as a senryu. It is written about human life in a poignant way. Senryu need not be humorous or silly. Many senryu, traditional and modern, portray the melancholy of being a person due to our flaws. This poem can fit into that category.

There is no kigo, or seasonal reference, present. This points even more towards my senryu hypothesis.

However, there is punctuation, which senryu are commonly devoid of. Traditionally, senryu do not have kireji, or cut markers. In the end, though, I am leaning towards it being a senryu. Ultimately, its label is not of serious consequence, since the poem connects well with readers no matter what we call it.

The em dash on the third line, for me, conveys the emotion of loss and feeling lost in the face of a loved one’s passing. I believe it’s a brilliant use of punctuation.

Thinking about the sonics of the poem, the elongated syllables of “o” make the mood even more somber. The strong “f” in the last line ending with the soft “l” additionally creates an emotional effect.

A senryu that expresses loss with brevity and directness but also irony.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

Frants Henningsen – A Funeral

Barnabas I. Adeleke’s muezzin’s call

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muezzin’s call . . .
Santa Claus steps aside
to make ablutions

— Barnabas I. Adeleke (Nigeria)
(previously published in Frogpond, 43.2) 

There are a few haiku that beautifully reflect interfaith harmony and show reverence and respect for every faith. This haiku is one of them.

The muezzin’s call to prayer is not only the call for prayer but also a message of peace for all those who are on the right path. The path that leads to serve humanity and make this world a better place. The writer beautifully blends two faiths based on the common grounds that are reflected in this haiku.

Santa Claus stepping aside is a gesture of reverence and respect not for other faiths but his own. It seems the Santa Claus in this case is a Muslim who took a break for offering a prayer, or it is a metaphor based on the actions a Santa Claus performs that brings happiness to others’ lives during the time of Christmas by distributing presents.

Ablution depicts the purification of the body before one offers a prayer. It is another way to clean one’s self and then serve others. The blend of beliefs and actions are interwoven beautifully in this haiku. It displays religious harmony in a true sense.

The muezzin’s call makes a person purify their body and soul before serving others. It’s an awakening call for all those who believe in peace, prosperity, and happiness.

— Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

Most haiku are based on a season. The mention of Santa Claus sets this haiku firmly in winter and specifically at the time of Christmas. This could be said to be a senryu as well, which usually examines human life and cuts into it with satire, commentary, and societal backlash. 

In the spirit of giving, it seems like the Muslim man who is dressed up as Santa Claus for an event takes a moment out of his work to pray. I feel this is symbolic of how Christmas has turned into less of a Christian tradition and more of a universal holiday that focuses on giving and receiving gifts generously. In the moment described, the man who pretends to be Santa Claus gives a gift to himself: a moment of peace. He also surrenders himself to God, which can be seen as a gift as well. 

There is nothing hypocritical with a Muslim man portraying Santa Claus, by the way. Though Saint Nicholas was a Christian and is the inspiration for the myth of Santa, Islam and Christianity both puts importance on charity. As a side note, Jesus is discussed over 100 times in the Quran. And surprisingly, Mother Mary is mentioned more in the Quran than in both of the Christian testaments.

One way to look at this haiku is that despite acting a part for work, we should never forget who we are and our foundation. The act in the haiku also calls to mind the humbleness and faith one should have as a religious or spiritual person.

In terms of technical aspects, we can see that this was written in the standard format for English-language haiku. In addition, the sound of this poem can be noted in the use of the letters “u,” “s,” and “c.” In each line, “u” is employed, which slows down the reading of this haiku. This allows the reader to imagine the scene better and to feel the calm of prayer.

It is a haiku or senryu that is at once humorous and profound, speaking to interfaith beliefs and the weaving of cultures.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

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