Tag: writing

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 by Ingrid Jendrzejewski, Joseph Howse, and Srini

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku3 Comments

rush hour
the paper bag
crossing the street

— Ingrid Jendrzejewski (UK)
April 2024 at Cafe Haiku (Cityscape series)

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening line makes this haiku quite interesting. ‘Rush hour’ is now a new normal, where everyone is trying to meet the requirements of a fast-paced life. No ellipses after it may mean it’s open to interpretation. Everyone can fit in the scene according to their daily routine. It can be jobs, errands, studies, meet-ups, business, events, etc. In any case, the time is crucial and significant. The ‘sh’ sound in ‘rush’ highlights the urgency of work, while the silent ‘h’ in ‘hour’ shows how quickly it passes without letting us be aware of it. 

The second line shows us those priorities that are usually not significant enough but keep poking us throughout the day. These priorities or tasks may distract us or deviate us from our main focus. ‘The’ before ‘paper bag’ refers to a specific bag or an analogy to our materialistic life that may be hollow and empty yet chaotic as well. This also indicates the mess around us that makes our life more complicated as mentioned in the third line of this haiku.

Crossing the street, or crossing our path, prompts us stop or slow down the ‘rush hour’. This could also relate to ceasing our thoughts or feelings. It also means that sometimes certain irrelevant things become relevant even if we are not paying much attention. This is how delicate our lives are. This is how emptiness or loneliness behind a fast-paced life keeps following us or crosses our paths. We realize that our relevance is defined by our attitude towards life.

raspberry fenceline
a neighbour asks
how many kids in the plan

— Joseph Howse (Canada)
Kokako 42, April 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, social dynamics, and responsibilities. The first line is unique in that the fence itself could be the raspberry vines. Alternatively, the raspberry vines could be growing against an actual fence, and perhaps over the fence. The imagery and scent in the first line include both the sweetness of raspberries and the thorns of their vines that are likely entangled. This creates a powerful juxtaposition because we can imagine the tangled raspberry vines as being a metaphor for the complexity of relationships. In addition, there is a correlation between the plants growing (and the raspberries ripening) and the children growing and maturing over time. Will the children eventually climb over the neighbor’s fence? There is some potential humor in this haiku as well. Indeed, the neighbor’s question in the third line seems to signify a mental preparation for more babies and children in the neighborhood. I imagine a young couple buying their first house and talking about having children, which is a deep conversation that requires a lot of careful thought and planning. The last two lines could also imply that the neighbor may offer to help raise their children and support the family over the years. In summary, this is an interesting and effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, planning, responsibility, and the complex dynamics of social life in neighborhoods. A well-written haiku.

a sentence without punctuation desert silence

— Srini (India)
Kingfisher Journal, issue 10, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The concept of this haiku is clever. It discusses a sentence without punctuation and also presents itself as such. The word “sentence” can have dual meanings: a syntactical construction and what a criminal receives (or an innocent person sent to trial) as a punishment. Having “a sentence without punctuation” could refer to a person sentenced to life in prison.

Being a one-line haiku, it can be read in multiple ways: “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence”; “a sentence/without punctuation desert silence”; “a sentence without punctuation desert/silence”; and read as one flowing thought. The most natural, in my view, would be to read it as “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence.” However, each reader may approach it intuitively in different ways. Either way, this haiku shows a strong bond between human linguistics and nature. Another perspective is that this haiku is a contrast between something fabricated (language) and something standing alone in itself (the desert).

There is no kigo or seasonal reference per se, but “desert silence” does point to a certain time. It is most probably at twilight or early morning in the desert. This has an interesting potential for resonance with the idea of a sentence. A sentence is something formed and could relate to these times when life is waking up or is unclear.

Looking at the sound, I enjoy the letters “s” and “c” being reflections possibly of the hiss of sand. The letter “t” also has a finality to it that could connect to the context of a sentence or desert silence.

This haiku follows the principle of brevity with only six words present. Basho spoke of the necessity of haiku having no hindrance for the reader, yet there is deep meaning. I believe this haiku strikes this chord. It is one of the few haiku I have seen use the word “silence” successfully without me flinching, as often the word is employed in a cliche or lazy fashion. Srini has written a haiku that is at once natural and linguistic, which comes full circle in the context of the poem.

Red Raspberries on a Forest Floor by William Mason Brown, c. 1866, High Museum of Art

Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Valentina Meloni, and M. R. Defibaugh

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku13 Comments

beachcombing
countless empty homes
washed ashore

— Kala Ramesh (India)
haikuKATHA: #35, September 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

What most connects me to this haiku is the multifaceted second line. I can see at least two ways to interpret “countless empty homes.” The more poetic way to see it is the homes of creatures like mollusks, and the like, washing ashore. The other interpretation is that people’s homes are coming ashore after a natural disaster like a powerful storm. Both versions bring a sense of dread and melancholy, especially in light of the contrasting leisurely activity of beachcombing. Another interpretation that may dawn on the reader is the imagery’s association with war. Our modern world is engulfed in several wars at the moment, and this haiku might be reflecting this. This way of perceiving the poem especially highlights a connection between humanity and the natural world.

Looking at the more technical aspects of this haiku, we can look at the punctuation, sound, and phrasing. There is a lack of punctuation, yet it is not quite needed. The second line acts more as a pivot without punctuation. As a reader, I intuitively paused after the first line, as if a comma or dash were there.

Kala Ramesh is a classically trained musician in Indian classical music, and it shows in her haiku. The “k” sound in “beachcombing” and “countless” brings about starkness in my mind. Conversely, the “o” sound in each line reinforces the melancholic mood of this poem.

Lastly, this haiku is paced in a way that approximates the original Japanese rhythm of haiku, which is a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line as an English-language standard. Even though haiku is originally written in one line, it is delineated in two parts through kireji, and three lines in English represent those two parts. It is also noticeable that the poet practiced brevity and conciseness, with each word in this haiku being important and efficient.

The sum of this haiku is greater than its parts, though. The feeling one gets from the imagery, sound, and pacing is best simply felt rather than explained. A sense of compassion washes over the reader, which is sorely needed these days.

music plays—
sweet air holds a longing
for what might be

— Valentina Meloni (Italy)

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

As a musician, I appreciate the dynamic atmosphere in this haiku. I admire how this haiku includes sound, scent, and perhaps a sixth sense, or the sense of longing. I like how the music is not defined, which allows us as the readers to hear different kinds of music. “music plays” gives me a feeling that the music is unfamiliar, and perhaps heard at some distance. I feel this adds spatial and psychological depth to this haiku. When I read the second line, I imagine breathing in the scent of a flower (or perhaps several different kinds of flowers) that has a sweet scent, though I like how the poet left the sweet scent open for the reader. I also like how the sweet air implies wind or a soft breeze that combines with the music. Through music and scent, the poet succeeds in leaving room for mystery. Perhaps most importantly, this haiku shows the power of music and its ability to inspire and bring us hope in a way that transcends words and thoughts. For me, among all art forms, music continues to be the most powerful creative expression of the human spirit. This haiku effectively expresses this sentiment, with grace, beauty, and mystery. A beautiful haiku.

prayer balloon—
our scribbled wishes
just out of reach

— M. R. Defibaugh (USA)
English-Speaking Union of Japan-Haiku, March 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This is a haiku that is purely based on the belief in prayers. I am a great believer in prayers. A prayer balloon is a symbolic way of writing and sending prayers, which is quite subtle. I find it a beautiful way to show one’s deep connection with prayers, wishes, and desires, and demonstrate it tangibly. It also helps the person psychologically to let go of worries with the flying balloon. 

The em dash after the prayer balloon shows its significance for the poet. The second line is about one’s wishes that are scribbled and highlighted on the balloon. It is a way to share one’s desires in the most obvious manner, where one is not only wishing them in their hearts but also aware of those wishes by scribbling them.

I find it therapeutic when one writes down their prayers or wishes on a delicate balloon that can carry the weight of those prayers and wishes easily, and acts as a bridge between the person and God. When a prayer is being scribbled on a balloon, it involves all senses, which means the person is mindful and fully aware of what’s in their heart and what should be written. This is the act of knowing. 

The third line is a sort of comparison and contrast with the second one—the act of unknowing. The person’s conviction and beliefs are intact whilst scribbling the wishes, but there is a sense of helplessness or no anticipation of those wishes; there are some sort of expectations and thoughts that gather in the mind after releasing the balloon in the air. This is a sort of realization that certain things are not in our control; we can make efforts only. ‘Just’ in the third line means the person has precise thoughts on it that once the wishes are done, they are not in our hands anymore—especially in this case, where the balloon disappears after some time. So, it’s a journey from seeing to beyond seeing, where one’s thoughts and feelings oscillate from known to unknown or vice versa. 

Matsumoto print, no. 39. The Matsumoto Do, Ltd. Tokyo, Japan.

Haiku by Kavita Ratna, Elliot Diamond, and Jeremy Haworth

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku10 Comments

river view
a salmon floats
on a cloud of oil

— Kavita Ratna (India)
Cold Moon Journal, October 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An important haiku that shows not only environmental harm but also our human dependency on oil in modern culture. In turn, this haiku shows the negative consequences of modern, industrialized culture without overly explaining it, and contributes to a much larger conversation. What kind of lives do we want to lead? Are we aware that when we damage the Earth, we also damage ourselves? The depiction of death in the second line also has a haunting effect. It seems the word “floats” suspends the moment in time, showing how events like oil spills disrupt the natural cycles of the Earth and complex ecosystems. I think we should turn to Indigenous wisdom for guidance to heal the many wounds we have created on Earth and to live better lives.

This haiku also reminds me of an important poetry anthology, I Sing the Salmon Home, edited by Rena Priest.

I hope this haiku will inspire people to support the salmon population and reflect on how we can live better, and take better care of each other and the Earth.

the rush of hail                                                            
to a distant iceblink
compass to home 

— Elliot Diamond (USA)
Time, #61 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The imagery, diction, and sense of sound drew me to this haiku. An absorbing image is described in the first two lines, which is epic to imagine as a reader. I’ve never seen the word “iceblink” before, but I had fun learning that “it is a white light seen near the horizon, especially on the underside of low clouds, resulting from [the] reflection of light off an ice field immediately beyond” (Wikipedia). The hail seems to merge with the iceblink, and this intuitively relates to having a compass to home. The integration of elements brings a sense of enlightenment, which is akin to finding one’s home. In a more practical sense, “the iceblink was used by both Inuit and explorers looking for the Northwest Passage to help them navigate safely as it indicates ice beyond the horizon” (Wikipedia).

Thinking about the kigo, or seasonal reference, it is mostly placed in winter. Hail and ice are commonly associated with winter but could appear in autumn or even spring at times. Anyway, the cold could be associated with the calculation of a compass, though it points to something as personal as a home.

The lack of punctuation or cut (kireji) makes the second line act as a pivot. So, it can be read as the rush of hail/ to a distant iceblink compass to home or the rush of hail to a distant iceblink/ compass to home. The latter is probably the most common reading of it.

Finally, looking at the sound, the letters “h” and “l” in rush, hail, iceblink, and home give me the impression of subtlety yet emotional weight. With 11 words in a short/long/short structure using common language (except the surprising “iceblink,” which is a pleasant artistic touch), this haiku follows the haiku tradition well. Beyond that, the compelling overall package of the haiku manifests a spiritual feeling that is also somehow personal.

sun haze 
what’s left of the stream 
rock shadows

— Jeremy Haworth (Ireland)
Presence, issue #81, 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

sun haze is a kigo that refers to seeing things clearly due to environmental conditions, i.e., smoke, smog, dust particles, fog, etc. Starting with this kigo allows us to pause and imagine the condition we unfortunately often pass through. It may indicate climate change, blurred vision, oblivion, a lack of awareness or clarity, etc. In any case, the poet lets us see an image that is significant in our lives in terms of survival and quality of life. In two kigo words, there can be a lot to explain, and that’s the beauty of haiku. You can let your imagination go wild and think of all possible but relevant aspects that can link to the kigo. The poet set a ground for us through this kigo so that we can feel the severity of issues related to climate and environment. 

In the second line, the stream may be either dried or near dry due to drought, infrastructure, expansion of cities, modern life, a lack of rain, or other reasons. My impression is that the stream may never come back, which is quite alarming. The poet didn’t end the poem with the death of the stream, but he focused on what’s left behind. The word ‘of’ is used cleverly in this haiku along with ‘what’s’, which may or may not be a question one can ask themselves.

The third line, ‘rock shadows’, indicates there is still water in the stream with a low level where one can see the shadows of rocks. It seems the rock shadows are symbols of annihilation, where one can not see them clearly in water, or they are imaginary, which tells us the stories of the stream’s origin. In any case, it’s a dreadful picture of nature in danger due to our actions. The beauty of this haiku is that there is no human experience or condition mentioned in it, but it still makes us ponder environmental conditions. 

I can see an analogy between this haiku and human experience i.e. the sun haze may be the blurred vision or oblivion we are in; the stream may be a thought process that is not in a great flow; and rock shadows are speculations or doubts about critical thinking about the environment/climate that needs our attention. 

Ice blink captured by Herbert Ponting in 1913

Haiku by Sandip Chauhan, Lisa Reynolds, and Neena Singh

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

grandpa’s coat
a loose button dangling
from a thread

— Sandip Chauhan (USA)
Published in haikuKATHA, issue 36, October 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

This haiku reflects miseries, the carefree life in old age, or memories of a deceased person. Grandpa’s coat symbolizes the protection of the body but it’s not clear that the coat is hanging somewhere, in the closet, or the person is wearing it. In any case, it looks like a close association with the person and the coat. 

The loose button dangling from a thread describes the vulnerability in old age, where a person gets weak and powerless in many ways. Life becomes more predictable as the person is close to annihilation. There may be two aspects: one is a carefree life as a person doesn’t bother to take care of himself or be attentive to self-grooming and another is loneliness where no one is around to take care of the person or his belongings. In any case, the poet beautifully depicted old age which may be the same for many around us. 

separating strands
from gum —
first grade crush

— Lisa Reynolds (Canada)
First Frost, issue #7, 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

This poem is relatable to many people who had a crush at such an early age. For this poet, it may even be her first crush. The first two lines depict the emotional and psychological tension the poet is wrestling with, especially in the words “separating strands.” The sticky qualities of gum could also lead readers to think about emotional and psychological attachments in general. What exactly is a crush? Who do we attach to, and why? What are the consequences of our emotional and/or romantic attachments? This haiku is a portal into these questions and into the mind of a first-grade child who is innocent and vulnerable. It’s also interesting to observe how a single object (in this case, gum) can conjure up memories from long ago and transport readers back in time. An interesting haiku that focuses on child psychology and emotions.

cherry blossoms…
a war refugee
empties his pockets

— Neena Singh (India)
Sakura Award, Vancouver Cherry Blossom Contest 2024

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Cherry blossoms are a traditional Japanese kigo or seasonal reference to spring. They are often seen as a symbol of the elegance, splendor, and fleetingness of things. Because of the commonplace usage of this kigo, it isn’t easy to write an original haiku when mentioning cherry blossoms. However, I think the poet here rendered a new image, and one with energy and feeling.

The imagery could be interpreted in multiple ways. The blossoms could be falling from the refugee’s pockets, or the refugee emptied his pockets so that the blossoms could fit into pockets either by falling into them or by picking them up and putting them there. Either way, the imagery is poignant and points to the beauty of transience. Furthermore, the haiku beautifully contrasts the season of spring with being a war refugee.

I enjoy the ellipsis as it not only slows down the reader to take in the scene of cherry blossoms but also directs us to imagine the cherry blossoms floating in the wind. In addition, it delineates the haiku into a two-part structure so there is no confusion and the association between the parts of the haiku is clearer.

Though the haiku does not follow the English-language standard of a short line/longer line/short line rhythm (optional anyway), it does focus on the principle of brevity with only eight words. Also, the poet employed clear and simple language, which aligns with haiku tradition. There is also euphony with the weight of the “r” sounds and the lightness of the “o” sounds. This brings a contrast and balance to the reading of the haiku.

All the above-mentioned attributes of this haiku demonstrate why it won a Sakura Award at the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Contest. More than that, war refugees have been prevalent throughout history—especially now. This haiku can speak to readers through the ages up to the present time.

Japanese woodblock print (nishiki-e); ink and color on paper. Public Domain. Unknown artist.

Haiku by Pat Davis, Anthony Lusardi, and Martina Matijević

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

beach stone
some of the worry
already gone

— Pat Davis (USA)
The Heron’s Nest, #44, December 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer: 

I appreciate how the image of a beach stone can be a metaphor for letting go. In this haiku, we don’t know what the poet is worried about, but the beach is a place where worries seem to disappear and fade into the background. I can feel the weight of the beach stone and hear the pulse of ocean waves. Along these lines, the beach and the vast ocean can create a relaxing atmosphere where we can embrace the space between thoughts. At the same time, the ocean can allow us to see “the big picture” where our worries can be seen from a deeper and different perspective. I think this is very important to do because we can step outside our small sense of ego and see our place on Earth and within the larger cosmos. I also appreciate how this haiku is relatable from reader to reader. It seems most people have their own worries that come and go. I deeply appreciate how the Earth herself can calm the mind and help us reflect. This haiku shows us this power. 

In short, this haiku shows the inherent healing power of Nature without overly explaining it. It includes a balance between concrete imagery and mystery. While this haiku is personal, it is also relatable to many readers with different backgrounds and circumstances. In the end, I think we can all benefit from learning how to let go. A powerful haiku.

dry summer
a spider web full                   
of fireweed seeds

— Anthony Lusardi (USA)
Frogpond, 48:1, winter 2025

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The haiku speaks for itself in terms of its theme and imagery. Climate change is a topic that should be highlighted time and again through any platform or medium as a reminder to the world that it is a serious issue.
 
The kigo in the first line ‘dry summer’ gives a vivid image of both time and season. I see it as if there is a drought with a drastic impact on nature. It seems the poet talks about a rainless time when the rain is needed the most. But, it still doesn’t give us a clue of the time period i.e. is it rainless for long or short? But, I like the way the poet uses an aesthetic sense to observe the beauty of nature even in hard times. 

A spider web can represent mystery, confusion, hopelessness, or abandonment where probably no access is given to any being. I wonder if the spider web is inside or outside a building, in an open field, or in a garden/farm, etc. There is no such clue of the location which makes this haiku open for interpretation. 

Fireweed seeds in the last line add to the interest in this haiku as seeds may stick to the spider web as a result of pollination, wind, storm, or any other source. But, in any case, these seeds have no chance to germinate as they may not be on the ground or in a favourable condition. At first look, the spider web full of fireweed seeds may sound like a period of hopelessness, drought, or lifelessness. However, fireweed can symbolize rebirth, resilience, and hope. But, the word ‘full’ instead of ‘stuck’ or ‘cling’ gives me some hope that maybe, one day these seeds may survive and fall on the ground or a suitable place to grow. The article ‘a’ and the word ‘full’ make it simple to interpret without digging more into the various aspects of this imagery. So, I see both hopelessness and hopefulness in this haiku. I see the resilience of nature in extreme or unfavourable seasons. I see life in a lifeless situation. I see the impact of climate change on nature and the way nature responds to it by trying to survive and preserve its elements. 

grandma’s old vineyard 
amid dense branches 
an abandoned chick

— Martina Matijević (Croatia)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The contrast between the chick and the old vineyard is striking. The word “abandoned,” though, can pertain to both the vineyard and the chick. From the first line, I assume the poet’s grandma has passed away and has essentially been abandoned. Looking at the second line, it is a pivot which connects to the first and third lines. If the first two lines are read as one whole, it could be saying that the grandma’s old vineyard is “hiding” or obscured amid dense branches. If the last two lines are read as one part, the chick appears amidst the branches. It’s always a plus when you can read a haiku in multiple ways.

A kigo or seasonal reference is not quite apparent. However, the mood of the haiku is at once bleak and hopeful. There is sadness in the deserted nature of the vineyard but an optimism in the new life that has inhabited a derelict space. It feels like the baby bird is a reincarnation of the grandma or a continuation of her life.

Looking at the format, it is interesting that each line is an equal five syllables each. I am not usually a syllable counter in haiku, but I noticed how each line was about the same length. Commonly, the haiku rhythm in English is a short line, a long line, and a short line. There is nothing wrong with changing up that rhythm, though. Each haiku is organic and requires a different pacing.

Sonically, the strongest letter in this haiku is perhaps “d.” In my opinion, it provides weight to the poem and the scene itself. The other letter that interests me in this haiku is “b,” which also creates accents of strength or gravity

To wrap up, this haiku connects the poet’s experience to the animal/natural world seamlessly. The haiku also features a fine sense of sound, a unique rhythm, and multilayered imagery.

Photo credit: Martina Matijević

Haiku and Haiga by Lanka Siriwardana, Bonnie J Scherer, and Maire Morrissey Cummins

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiga, Haiku1 Comment

grandfather’s trembling feet
searching for the slippers
in this cold night

— Lanka Siriwardana (Sri Lanka)
Honorable Mention, 76th Basho Memorial English Haiku Contest, 2022

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

Like many well-written haiku, there is a balance in this haiku between concrete imagery and mystery. In the first reading of this haiku, we could see “trembling feet” relating to the cold temperature. However, the trembling could also be due to a medical condition and/or old age, in addition to the cold night. The words “searching for the slippers” show a kind of struggle, partly because it’s evening, but the poet’s grandfather also might have dementia or some form of memory loss.

The overall tone of this poem inspires compassion because we get a real glimpse of the grandfather’s life in a cold atmosphere. As a reader, I wonder if the grandfather lives in a home or shelter that isn’t heated well. This haiku also reminds us that a simple task many people take for granted (such as finding their slippers) can be a significant challenge for others. I am reminded of my late grandmother who had dementia. Even walking to the front door and putting on her shoes was a significant task that took quite some time. Indeed, psychologically, there seems to be a slower pace to this haiku, in stark contrast to the busy, daily lives in modern cities. This is a haiku that inspires sensitivity and compassion. 

— Bonnie J Scherer (USA)
Daily Haiga, 9/30/2024 

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening line of this haiku suggests the time of departure—probably afternoon or early evening. Migrating geese move in a flock with a specific formation, making their flight unique. 

‘Swallowed by blue sky’ makes the scene more dramatic and mysterious. It is an unusual time of depature which may be due to unfavourable circumstances i.e. climate change, war, etc. The word ‘swallowed’ indicates a critical or unfavourable situation where the geese disappeared either due to smog or smoke or in a symbolic way. 

The missing article before ‘blue sky’ perhaps points to a regular situation where geese disappear normally. We may be getting less sensitive to what is happening in nature, where birds do not feel secure in blue sky—not having the freedom of enjoying seasonal flights. It also indicates that such beautiful scenes are missing where bird lovers can enjoy bird watching. 

Overall, the vivid imagery of birds is quite sad and stark for those who love nature. 

night ferry
pitching its way
through starlight 

— Maire Morrissey Cummins (Ireland)

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

I grew up near a ferry dock, so I can easily relate to this haiku. The lights from night ferries are majestic to witness. In conjunction with “starlight,” it would be truly a spectacle. The casual speed of a ferry also makes this image more beautiful, with the ferry pitching i.e. an up-or-down movement of the bow and stern of the ship. The combination of artificial and natural light, as well as the earth and the cosmos, add to the meaning of the haiku.

Looking at the more technical aspects of this haiku, one can easily say that it follows the tradition of brevity, with only seven words used. Each word is employed well, especially “pitching,” which gives the poem more motion. Also, the “i” sounds perhaps make the starlight imagined more stark, and the “r” sounds provide more weight.

Like many fine haiku, on first read, it seems simple. Yet after looking a bit deeper, we can see layers of resonance and fantastic imagery that connect the human-made world with the cosmos.

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

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku4 Comments

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