2014
HAIKU (Judge: Michele Root-Bernstein)
Judging the 2014 haiku contest for HPNC has been a great privilege. I have tried to listen to each and every poem with attention, curiosity, and empathy. In addition to deft control of haiku elements and techniques, I have favored in my final selections those poems that also surprised me, whether in freshness of image, “lucky” language, unexpected emotional response, or transformative insight into phenomena. The six poems selected here, and many more unsung, lodged themselves within my heart and mind.
First Place ($100)
cherries in bloom…
the delicate application
of makeup to bruise
Scott Mason
What draws me to this haiku is the unusual pairing of images. Commonly evoked and emotionally powerful cherry blossoms are juxtaposed to the very human effort to conceal and aestheticize a disfiguring injury of the flesh. A woman, perhaps, stands before a mirror, lightly dabbing foundation to her face. Has she got a black eye? How did it happen? The ku creates a space in which narrative possibilities abound, as do interpretations of the act. Rather than a sense of despair or defeat, we may intuit a certain confidence in renewal because her fingers, like cherry blossoms, work delicately. In good haiku the fragment informs the phrase; in the best, the phrase also informs the fragment. Here the “application of makeup to bruise” says something new about winter, spring, and the blossoming of trees—something, I believe, about the willingness to forgive and forget.
Second Place ($50)
funeral
folding lilac scent
into his burial flag
Cezar Ciobîcă
This haiku thrives on the sensuousness of its imagery as well as the lightness with which it handles one of the saddest moments of our lives. Even as line 1 prepares us for mourning, line 2 introduces the vigorous scent of early spring blossoms—a seasonal contradiction, it would seem, to our emotional condition. Line 3 ups the ante, informing us that we bury a soldier, honored for military service. The short-lived blooms of the lilac bush suggest, too, that we bury someone killed in action, in the prime of life. All this we intuit or infer. The ku itself focuses our attention on smell and its strong link to memory. The sweetness in this death is that this soldier will not be forgotten.
Third Place ($25)
shifting expectations dandelion fluff
Carolyn Hall
This spare juxtaposition of natural and cognitive phenomena shifts in emphasis as we consider the moment. On a literal level, we are watching the dandelion fluff float here, there, up and down in the breeze, not sure where it will land, where it will seed. Figuratively, the path we take through life may seem to mirror that haphazard journey. Alternate meanings of the word “fluff”—a bungling or misplay, or something essentially trivial—expand these ruminations.
Honorable Mentions (not ranked)
dusk on the mountaintop as if I had wings
Renee Owen
This haiku makes effective use of the conditional “as if” to create a dual reality. From a distance, dusk rises up the slopes of the mountain and the poem’s persona wings with it. Yet at the summit, dusk finally and irrevocably falls, as does the illusion of flight. Like a Gestalt image, the haiku moment contains both potentials.
forgotten garden
a fig tree enters
the fog
Ernest Berry
In this haiku, redolent with physical and spiritual loneliness, the object (as Barthes would have it) becomes an event. The fig tree acts, rather than the fog, and opens us up to the possibility that we are the agents of our aloneness. The sound values in this ku also work to enhance the soft effacements of solitude.
solar eclipse
your halo
slips a little
Tracy Davidson
With just the right touch of humor, this haiku lets us know that point of view is all in relationships. Even the sun’s primacy may be called into question; the passage of moons and moods affects our fundamental feelings, if only temporarily. The repetition of short i’s lends just the right vocalization, too, to the gentle scold.
TANKA (Judge: Michael McClintock)
First Place ($100)
remembering
joys of a tropic childhood
she startles him
by taking off her clothes
to dance naked in the rain
Kirsty Karkow
Second Place
refusing
to use a walker
or cane
she leans on me
for the first time in her life
Janet Lynn Davis
Third Place
each day
a little more is learned --
the names
of various beasts
and why the milk maid cries
Kirsty Karkow
Honorable Mentions (not ranked)
a new day
shall we grab it
laugh
and throw fresh popcorn
to the grubbling ducks?
Kirsty Karkow
would literature
have suffered greatly?
picture Juliet
leaning from the balcony
to shout go away
Kirsty Karkow
SENRYU (Judge Jim Kacian)
As usual, choosing among the many good poems offered was a great challenge. My first couple readings trimmed the bulk of submissions to my top 30, which I further reduced to 13 after a week’s gestation and a couple subsequent readings. After another few days of allowing these poems to resonate with me, I have arrived at my 6 favorites, plus a “bonus” pick.
First Place ($100)
my fence
and my neighbor’s
don’t quite meet
Brad Bennett
If good fences make good neighbors, as Frost would have it, what do irregular fences make? What should that little indeterminate zone tell us? How did it come to be that a gap was left? Was it done by the current owners or by their predecessors? Do the neighbor’s dogs or the burgeoning deer use it as a throughway into our yard or garden? Who mows there? Is there room enough in the gap for a political sign? If so, what sign? All the interesting activities of humans take place in the interstices, and this small gem recognizes this fact in very economical terms.
Second Place
fan dance
her every
hair in place
John Stevenson
The dance of allurement, seemingly so wild and spontaneous, is in fact highly choreographed and precisely plotted. We must remove ourselves from our involvement in the moment to notice this calculation. And the perfect emblem for this realization is the dancer’s physical presentation itself: not a hair out of place. I appreciate the line breaks here—“her every” indeed . . .
Third Place
a fork in the road . . .
she opens the map
while I read GPS
Chen-ou-Liu
The fork, we are led to believe, is not solely in the road. This is the sort of experience that reveals character, as both of these actors already know.
Honorable Mentions (not ranked)
My three Honorable Mentions all possess the archness of worldly wise minds. They all recognize a reality fraught with danger, and the likely inability that humans will manage to cope with it in anything approaching best form. The homeliest of these
A crow
among the seagulls
tourist season
Garry Gay
recognizes that there are always two kinds of birds, and we know what kind we are. Do I also detect a whiff of George Zimmerman in this? The most cynical of these
air horn—
a warning for someone
much farther away
John Stevenson
finds humor in the knowing that such a resource will never serve his own purposes. And the one most likely to be experienced by us all
three days
to stabilize
his health insurance
John Stevenson
is simply grim in the face of our social contract. I would have scored this a bit higher had its line breaks served its humor a bit better. And I would be remiss if I did not recognize this truly horrific groaner
Guernseys turn
into the wind
dairy air
Lesley Anne Swanson
The less said about this, the better.
RENGAY (Judges: Beverley George and Ron C Moss)
The judging of this rengay was a great pleasure to participate in with Beverley. It was a very positive experience that brought many rewards. Right from the beginning we were in agreement with what makes a prize winning rengay. I would like to thank the organisers for the opportunity to be a part of this wonderful competition. (rm)
bg. Imaginative linking and shifting; careful word choices; and harmonious collaborative writing in which no one voice dominates, are the hallmarks of the winning and highly commended rengay in this competition. In fairness to all contestants, Ron and I began our judging process by individually placing a comment by every entry and were delighted by how readily our shortlists merged into one. (bg)
First Place
Letter from Home
Susan Antolin, Walnut Creek, CA
Michael Sheffield, Kenwood, CA
Lois Scott, San Francisco, CA
the sound of the TV
bleeds into the kitchen clatter
summer dusk Susan
among the crickets’ chirp
cheek against soft earth Michael
raccoons splashing
in the evening garden
star jasmine Lois
after midnight
a fumbling of keys by the front door
Susan
Fellini-esque
silent passage past my window
the moonlit ship Michael
first light through trees
footsteps in the hall Lois
This rengay overlays elements of everyday domestic circumstance with a dream-like quality. The three voices blend seamlessly as the images link and progress, resulting in a poem of substance that seems longer than its structure dictates. (bg)
From the very first readings, this rengay appealed to me very much. A strong central theme flowed steadily, with many sub themes and strong images. The shifts and links were clever and captured the reader through the progression of evening to early morning. (rm)
Second Place
A Spill of Moonlight
Carol Judkins, Carlsbad, CA
David Terelinck, Pyrmont, NSW, Australia
ocean fog
my dreams alive
in seaglass Carol
the maelstrom
of Turner’s dark oils David
red sky—
drinking songs drift
from a tethered boat Carol
second watch
the deckhand baptized
by a spill of moonlight David
the sound no sound
of buoy bells Carol
he calls my name—
casting
into the wind.. David
The opening two verses set the scene for an amazing journey. I was carried along on a sea of colour, passion and power. The strong images were seamlessly joined in a vision of the sea that J. M. W. Turner would have applauded. (rm)
An economy of carefully selected words that engage the senses and enrich the reading experience, and an open-ended closing link, earned this rengay its place. (bg)
Third Place
Origami
Julie Warther, Dover, OH
Angela Terry, Lake Forest Park, WA
pumpkin spiced latte—
clouds swirl
a paper moon Julie
origami passenger pigeons
just to remind us Angela
penciling in
the breath marks
Amazing Grace Julie
hand made books
trimmed with orange and brown
autumn rain Angela
the wax seal on the envelope
unbroken Julie
a house of cards
with tissue thin walls
other peoples’ lives Angela
With fresh and shifting images. this rengay generates warmth and a sense of enduring values, as well as sensitivity to transience. (bg)
As finely crafted as handmade paper this rengay has many folds to explore and the end result was very satisfying with a strong closing verse. The feel of handmade books and paper is a satisfying one for me. Bookbinding informed my early years and this theme evoked many memories of those times with a sense of touch and smell. (rm)
Honorable Mention (not ranked)
A Winter’s Tale
Michael Dylan Welch, Sammamish, WA
Sarah Welch, Sammamish, WA
morning light—
a trace of snow
on the neighbour’s crèche Michael
granddad steals a gumdrop
from the gingerbread house Sarah
crowded mall—
the eyes of carolers
all aglow Michael
mistletoe hung
above the mantle—
empty stocking Sarah
sale flags fluttering
in the tree lot Michael
bronze sunset…
the first Christmas lights
turn on Sarah
With lively imagery and pace, this rengay captures the warmth of Christmas, tempered by realism as in ‘sale flags’. (bg)
I felt all aglow after reading this fine Christmas rengay. I enjoyed the progression between granddad stealing a gumdrop to the final verse which links sunset with Christmas lights. (rm)
Visiting Hours
John Thompson, Santa Rosa, CA
Renée Owen, Sebastopol, CA
hospital silence
I linger to share
the moonrise John
this sliver of hope
things will be different Renée
talk of cancer
rippling in the carp pond
a broken moon John
your ghost…
or a motionless heron
fishing in the gloom Renée
on a stone bench
stillness & shadow John
waiting for you
moonblind
on the opposite shore Renée
A powerful theme that is handled with sensitivity, an acknowledgement of life and death, along with the flow of seasons and natural elements. (rm)
This is a love poem without once using the word; a journey through the twilight of terminal illness. The link between carp and heron creates tension and foreboding. (bg)
The Joy of Rain
Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy, India
Sahana Shrikaanth, India
autumn shower—
a grandma twirls
her umbrella Shrikaanth
each drop on the leaf
reflects a rainbow Sahana
monsoon camp…
slum kids painting in
shades of gray Shrikaanth
splashing puddles
on the way from school
buffaloes Sahana
drops plop plop plopping
on upturned milk pails Shrikaanth
pakoras
crackling in the pan—
thunderbolts Sahana
Refreshing as a shower of rain, with unexpected images and word choices. An attention to sound. (bg)
A splish-splash of words and imagery fills the senses with this one, all in the safety of grandma’s twirling umbrella. The nurturing food brings it to a satisfying completion. (rm)