heavy snow—
in the window
my buried name

— Robert Hirschfield (USA)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, autumn/winter, 2024 

Commentary: I appreciate the psychological and philosophical depth of this haiku. The first line alone carries emotional weight as well in the word “heavy.” I think the dash puts more emphasis on the snow and also creates a long silence in the poem, which resonates with the deep snow. I also appreciate the window in this haiku that seemingly separates the “inside” from the “outside.” I see the window as the lens through which we see the world. As a meditation, this haiku reflects on human mortality and encourages us to reflect on our Earthly lives and life after death. I also appreciate how this haiku shifts the focus back to the beauty and power of Mother Earth who survives long after we are physically gone. I think the poet is writing from a place of genuine humility, as his name is literally and visually buried in this haiku in the last line. In turn, it seems our names are not as permanent as they seem to be. This haiku conjures up a few questions for us to consider: 1) What do we want to leave behind after our last breath on Earth? 2) Who are we without our names? 3) What are our thoughts on life after death? 4) Are we open to the Great Mystery? I think this haiku expands our perspective and asks us to consider how important our seemingly separate sense of individuality is in relation to life itself and the cosmos. I would argue that no one is ever truly alone in this world (or in the afterlife). It seems our unique individual selves are, in the end, expressions of one universal energy, just as each snowflake is uniquely different but made of the same substance. It also seems that all of life is connected in infinitely complex and mysterious ways that we can never fully comprehend with our limited minds. In short, this is a powerful and humbling haiku that encourages us to meditate on our identity, our Earthly lives, Mother Earth spirituality, and life after death.

— Jacob D. Salzer

— John Zheng (USA)

Commentary: When I looked at this photo haiku for the first time, it reminded me of a summer vacation in my childhood in my village. My grandmother used to tell us a story in an old-fashioned room in our family house where there was a wooden ceiling, creaky stairs, a charpai, and an ancient wooden door. We used to sit on the stairs listening to our late evening stories from her and there was complete silence in the room except for the wind that would pass through the gaps in the wooden ceiling. I can relate to this haiku very well. It seems like a meditative session where everyone is mesmerised by profound poetry that has enchanting effects on listeners. Reading poetry is an art that can bring all the senses to one point and make them not only listen to it but also absorb the vivid imagery or storyline. It suddenly stops the world around us and lets us relate it to our feelings and thoughts. 

I see another aspect to this photo haiku as well. It may depict the cessation of past routines of storytelling or reading. It may suggest that the poet is all alone and there is no one to listen to their poetry. The silence of creaking stairs could mean no one from the upper part of the house comes down. Maybe, once there were children or other household members who used to gather for poetry readings and now they have gone. It’s a simple yet deep photo haiku that depicts the irony of today’s fast-paced life where no one has time for such creative activities. 

— Hifsa Ashraf

curvature of spacetime at the early bird special

— Patrick Sweeney (USA)
Wales Haiku Journal, Spring 2023

Commentary: I’m a fan of reading about physics, and haiku about spacetime are always interesting to me. In this haiku, there is an unexpected pairing with “early bird special.” For those not acquainted with this, it is a business strategy to offer discounted prices for those who buy an item early. So, the relation between the two parts is that the early bird special is akin to a curvature in spacetime in that it is sort of a bending of time. The early bird could also be referring to an actual bird or a person. Either way, it is a unique combination of elements that makes a connection between the lofty and the practical. I feel that is one of main missions of haiku: to make a web of connections between innumerable beings to demonstrate that we are all in this together somehow.

Looking at the more technical aspects, the kigo or seasonal reference is not clear—though early bird specials are often offered at the start of seasons. The flow of the poem could be seen as two parts or as one phrase, which works to its benefit. The use of sound in the haiku is subtle but powerful with a fantastic run of “r,” “t,” and “l” sounds. The “r” sounds are more favorite as they make me feel as if the sound is curving like spacetime. Overall, this is a beautiful-sounding haiku with a fine twist that is at once relatable and abstract.

— Nicholas Klacsanzky