2024
HAIKU (Judge: Victor Ortiz)
Biography
Until 2018, Victor Ortiz had spent most of his life in southern California, where he earned his Ph.D. in Classics from UCLA and where he discovered haiku while thinking about how to engage his students in using Latin creatively. His work may be found in various haiku journals in this country and abroad, several Red Moon anthologies, and many Haiku 21 supplements. His latest book, gone/to seed, was runner-up in the 2024 Backbone Press Haiku Chapbook Contest. Victor was a panel member of the Touchstone Distinguished Books Award (2020-2023) and served as the Washington Regional coordinator for the Haiku Society of America (2022). He now resides with his artist wife, Mimi, in Bellingham, Washington.
General Remarks
Congratulations to the prize winners and the honorable mentions. To be sure, among the four hundred and sixty-nine entries from eleven countries in this year’s contest, there was much to praise. It was a privilege to be invited into the lives of so many fine poets whose words will stay with me for a long time.
The winning poems not only enlarge our lives by expanding our feelings and thoughts, but they also leave plenty of room for the reader to shape their experience of the poem, and they use language in provocative, engaging ways. At least, these are the criteria I used in the selection process, while recognizing the subjective application of these guidelines. In the early rounds, I was attracted to poems that moved me because of their emotional impact. I sat with this selection for weeks, then I chose poems that used language effectively to suggest feelings, to create a movement of thought, and to help the reader see something familiar in a fresh way. There’s no doubt that the finalists wrote very good poems, but for me, what distinguished the winners from all the others was the compelling voice of the poet, who managed to shape their experience of the world in an unforgettable way.
Finally, a huge thank you goes to the Haiku Poets of Northern California for such a rewarding experience and putting their trust in me.
First Place
the lake's silence pinned to his cubicle wall
Julie Schwerin
Sun Prairie, WI
This original poem resounds with silence. “the lake’s silence” expands the confines of a small interior office, enlarging the life of its occupant, rippling, as it were, the very walls themselves. It is when we read the pivot word, “pinned,” that we realize the poet’s take on silence is something unusual and that perhaps our expectations need revising. We suspect that we are looking at a photograph framed on a wall rather than an actual lake and that the word “pinned” might suggest a threshold between two worlds, where outer and inner realities reflect each other, merging into one. It’s also implied that the poet may experience “the lake’s silence” at those moments when the poet takes a pause from their busy life. But what kind of silence does this pause provide? That’s for us to decide. Perhaps the poet is suggesting that we too have access anytime and anywhere to moments that deepen our lives, even when we find ourselves in our own busy “cubicles.”
Second Place
dusk gathering the fallen apples
Rowan Beckett
Lakewood, OH
The poet opens with a mystery. Is “dusk” or some unknown person or animal collecting the windfall apples? Although the word “dusk” does suggest a time of day, the poet allows us to make our own choice(s) where to cut between the words and phrases, such as after “dusk” or after “apples,” and derive our own meaning. The use of the word “the” interestingly raises the questions, what else was there to gather besides the apples and why choose the fallen apples instead of the ripe ones? We are left to ponder the implications. Additionally, there is a sense of urgency to gather what has been provided, physically and metaphorically, before night falls. After the initial stresses of the first two syllables followed by three unstressed syllables, it feels like there’s a rush towards the stressed / unstressed trochees of “fallen apples.” These five words provocatively engage us and are worthy of special appreciation.
Third Place
new moon
she adjusts the ring
that isn’t there
Frank Hooven
Morrisville, PA
How often have we experienced deeply what isn’t there and yet it has a presence we feel? The new moon is the darkness that faces Earth and yet we sense it’s there in alignment between the sun and earth, in full potential of returning as a waxing crescent. The poet also effectively describes the presence of absence by reference to a ring that’s missing from a woman’s finger, an invisible presence that has the weight, shape, and texture of loss. And yet, perhaps, there is also the hope of a rebirth to a brighter tomorrow like the circle of a ring or the moon’s cycle. This beautifully written poem is remarkable for the way it enlarges our experience of loss and renewal, as a pattern in our lives that we share universally with other beings.
Honorable Mentions
old password
my third attempt
at spring
Edward Huddleston
Baxley, GA
inching closer
to coming out
fifth instar
Helen Ogden
Pacific Grove, CA
campfire coals
words sung older
than any of us
Gary Hotham
Scaggsville, MD
SENRYU (Judge: Samantha Renda)
Biography
Sam Renda is a life-long poet and nature lover residing in Cape Town, South Africa. She began writing modern haiku in 2015. She is the recent recipient of the Grand Prize in the 6th annual Morioka International Haiku Competition (English section) and has been published in several international haiku journals including: Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Acorn, Kingfisher, Autumn Moon, tsuri-dōrō, The Mamba, The Wales Haiku Journal and others.
First Place
ammonite
the lingering shape
of her ‘no’
Ravi Kiran
Hyderabad, India
Certain memories and experiences are indelible. They have a shape that sits within us, waiting to be revisited, reminding us of love, embarrassment, rejection or old hurts. With this senryū, the poet skilfully contrasts one such experience with the enduring shape of an ammonite — an artifact that can be held and felt and which reminds us of life long past. One that invites the fingers to trace out its shape, much as we might probe and revisit all the parts of a troubling or embarrassing memory.
The spare and precise word choice deepens the impact of that implied connection. The poem pivots perfectly from the ‘lingering shape’ of line two to the impactful ‘no’ of the last line, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks. The result is a poem that rewards re-reading and which holds multiple meanings, some of them light and others far more serious.
Second Place
saffron
daughters whisper
as they stir
Bill Cooper
Naples, FL
There is a wonderful sense of mystery and lightness, and perhaps a little mischief, in this poem. Saffron itself is a bit magical and mysterious — a rare, expensive spice that imparts a beautiful golden hue when added to food. This is contrasted with the image of daughters, perhaps gathering around a pot which one of them is stirring, as they all watch the food’s transformation.
The poet’s use of consonance with repeated ‘s’ sounds deepens the mystery, turning the entire poem into a piece that one instinctually wants to read softly and slowly.
The overall result is a poem that invites delightful questions about the experience taking place. Does stir here refer to the pot itself or are the daughters awakening, perhaps to the smell of cooking? Why are they whispering? What secret are they keeping and from whom? And what strange alchemy is happening, both within the food and between the people sharing it? A beautiful, intriguing image.
Third Place
indecent exposure
a park busker strums
his heart out
Kristen Lindquist
Camden, ME
We’ve all been in the presence of someone who is over-sharing or over-exposing themselves in an awkward or inappropriate way. This senryū captures that experience perfectly.
The movement from ‘indecent exposure’ in line one to the word ‘strums’ at the end of line two creates a wonderful (and slightly alarming) moment of: ‘Hang on, where is this going?’ Then line three completes the picture by telling us the over-exposure here is emotional, with a busker that is either a little intoxicated or just plain heavy-handed with their instrument in a way that is amusing or perhaps uncomfortable for the viewer.
That keen insight into a very human moment, combined with a bit of dark humour, makes for a classic senryū.
Honorable Mentions
a lullaby
for my daughter’s daughter
dappled sunlight
Sharon Martina
Warrenville, IL
their anniversary again discounted roses
Rowan Beckett
Lakewood, OH
Swiss Army knife
all the ways Dad
opens up
Edward Huddleston
Baxley, GA
summer contrails
your birthday parcel
still unaddressed
Dylan Stover
Cuyahoga Falls, OH
equinox the prayer list lengthens
Lorraine A. Padden
San Diego, CA
TANKA (Judge: Kathabela Wilson)
First Place
years in exile ...
moonlight rippling
the Pacific,
this narrow path
to the (M)otherland
Chen-ou Liu
Ajax, ON, Canada
This tanka has every quality of tanka that I love. It is lyrical, has mystery, and is especially creative in its use of language. It stands out, of course, for the parenthetical (M).This unusual element draws attention to multiple meanings, and is subtle and powerful. What can be closer than the mother, and yet estrangement, by geography, emotion, or rules, is heartbreaking. And the long narrow way back, in the night, traveling by moonlight, is very moving and speaks to all the separations and current difficulties our hearts are dealing with in our current affairs.
Second Place
blooming
behind closed lids
wild iris
in the backyard
of my childhood home
Stefanie Bucifal
Konstanz, Germany
The simplicity and yet enigmatic qualities of this tanka draw me back to my own childhood backyard. Dreamlike and yet real and present, behind "closed lids" we encounter the inner wildness we felt and still feel as our childhood comes back to us, the hidden aspects of our childhood past, in the backyard where it happened, undercover in a sense, are magnetic. And the creative "iris" both a beautiful bloom and our own inner and sleeping vision.
Third Place
by the seashore
echoes in the wind--
your whispers
from the depths
i feel them as a calling
Cristian Matei
Bucharest, Romania
I love the emotional quality of this tanka. The seashore has always spoken to me. and the depths ever present. I love that here they are felt not just calling, but as "a calling"! This is more than an allure, It is an imperative. What must we do? And why. There is mystery here. The personal quality of the call is held in the tanka, where mystery so beautifully resides.
Honorable Mentions
a flock of geese
through the shelter window
a deaf veteran
touches again and again
the sound of home
Chen-ou Liu
Ajax, ON, Canada
In this tanka, I love the mix of senses, and powerful elements. A "flock of geese" commands our attention even without the rush of sound that is inherent in it. And the lone veteran who sees, cannot hear but "feels" it. The action brings to heart the reasons for the deafness... and separation from the flock.
amid-morning chatter
in the local coffee shop
a barista
teaches me how to sign
"thank you"
Johnnie Johnson Hafernik
San Francisco, CA
This tanka of few words has both a lightness and an emotional poignancy, We feel the little enigmatic moment when this happens. In a casual setting. So easily felt and imagined... a situation created silently amid "chatter" this very special moment, a gift, a bit of wisdom, for immediate use.
somewhere
a room with a view
for a month
we lived solely
on azure
Stefanie Bucifal
Konstanz, Germany
The short powerful little tanka touches my heart. It opens up a wide window to the sky, to an ecstatic feeling of relationship, to the expansiveness of life that we may experience for a time, a treasure shared "for a month" with another. The acknowledgement and incitement of this lasts. Where did it go.
the evening falls
over the linden in bloom--
the fragrance
shaping your face
drawn from my memory
Cristian Matei
Bucharest, Romania
Lyrical and evocative, the powerful fragrance brings the poet to a creative ecstasy. The words "shape" and :"drawn" are exquisitely used. The face is drawn out of the past in memory and perhaps, could even be a drawing (drawn) artwork itself.
Thanksgiving moon
sparks on the rippling water
of Lake Ontario ...
from his cupped, calloused hands
a migrant's taste of home
Chen-ou Liu
Ajax, ON, Canada
This timely tanka brings out all our feelings of the questions of the heart of our times. Drinking the waters of home with gratitude and the work to reach this point of reunion are all held in the beautifully formed visually satisfying tanka for us to taste.
HAIBUN (Judges: Terri French and Sean O'Connor)
Terri French Biography
Terri started her life as a creative writer when she was a child. While Terri has written prose and historical nonfiction, she finds her most satisfying creative outlet in poetry. Terri is drawn to haiku because of its concise use of words to encapsulate the profound moments of nature and the human experience. Terri is on the editorial team of the online journal, contemporary haibun online. She is past southeast regional coordinator of The Haiku Society of America and served as secretary and member-at-large for The Haiku Foundation. Terri is former editor of Prune Juice Journal of senryu and kyoka. Now retired, Terri and her husband Ray (and dog, Chaka) enjoy the nomadic lifestyle of full-time RVers, but soon hope to settle back down in Huntsville, Alabama.
Sean O’Connor Biography
On my first day at school, I was in tears as I was the only child with nothing to write with. Then, with a theatrical flourish, a lady gave me my first pencil. That was half a century ago, and since then I have (amongst other things) been a factory worker, a psychiatric nurse, worked in film production, toured internationally as a musician, and lived for five years in Japan. My interest in Japanese literature began in the early 1980’s when I discovered some books on Japanese haiku and culture in a bargain bin. In 1998 I became editor of the print journal Haiku Spirit. For two years I served as a judge in the Japan based Genjuan International Haibun Contest and in 2019 I established The Haibun Journal. Over the past 30 years my work has been translated into several languages, appeared in numerous anthologies, and published in journals worldwide. My first solo collection, Let Silence Speak, was shortlisted for The Touchstone Distinguished Books Award 2016 and my fourth title, Fragmentation, won the 2022 HSA Merit Book Award for Best Haibun Book. The Arts Council of Ireland awarded me Literature Bursaries, in 2021 and 2022, for which I am deeply grateful.
First Place
A Habit
by Susan Yavaniski, Cohoes, NY (U.S.)
Surrendering its length
to the sea wind:
her black hair.
The way she has always walked, with her eyes fixed upon the earth, has yielded many things, including a trove of abandoned hair elastics in perfect condition. Utilitarian, frugal, eco-conscious, she brings them home, washes them, and reuses them in her own hair, which she routinely restrains. Still, there’s a side of her that sees in these bands a message, an invitation from some secret sorority of women and girls, who on city streets and mountain trails, in farm fields and in parking lots, on subways and in grocery stores, have pulled out the ties holding their ponytails, buns, and braids, and freed the length of their hair to the wind, and the sun, and the weather.
dawn
a fairy circle bursts
from the dew
*The poem in italics is by Santoka Taneda, translated by William Scott Wilson
Judges’ Comments:
The inclusion of poems by other writers in haibun is a long-established practice; however, it is rare in the English language. "A Habit" opens with a short poem by the Japanese poet Santoka. This sets up the theme of the piece and injects into it a welcome element of cultural verticality. The three sentences of prose that follow are remarkable in the way they develop, with quite unexpected changes of direction that the author manages to deliver in a smooth manner. There is a magical quality to the prose that is surprisingly convincing.
The prose is followed by a haiku that is also quite unpredictable. We are left with the idea that in removing the hair clasp this woman might free herself from whatever constraints are holding her from becoming her true and unfettered self, dancing like a fairy within the circle. Its final word is the well-chosen kigo ‘dew’ which brings to mind freshness, and suggests a new beginning, a new day.
Second Place
Fifty Years Ago
by Jenny Ward Angyal, Gibsonville, NC (U.S.)
Fifth month. No heartbeat. I’m sent home to wait. Nothing happens. I pack up the baby clothes—cardboard box, no label. Still nothing happens. The week seems endless. At last I’m sent to the hospital. Pitocin drips into my veins. I wait some more, give birth to a stillborn son. Gray.
I go home. Days of emptiness . . . until the blood comes, blood pooling on the sidewalk, splattering my shoes. It won’t stop. Back to the hospital. Dead tissue kept too long inside—my blood won’t clot. I need the fibrinogen in fresh whole blood. My world fades into shimmering paleness. A nurse calls her husband, who shares my blood type. He leaves his work and comes straightaway.
It’s no more than a distant memory now. But I read the news and wonder—if it happened today, would I be forced to carry a dead baby to term? Would I be put on trial and jailed for the body’s failings?
dead sparrow—
I bury it under
the climbing rose
Judges’ Comments
The author’s decision to open "Fifty Years Ago" with clipped, almost awkward, sentences reinforce its emotionally difficult theme. It creates the sense of a narrator struggling to get the words out, so to speak. Gradually, the sentencing lengthens, strengthens, and with the passage of time (five whole decades) the narrator is comfortable enough to reflect on both the past and the present. These musings will no doubt be a challenge to some, perhaps a challenge to many readers. And yet, the author then delivers a haiku loaded with layers of emotional resonance; death accompanied by a resilience for life. A dead bird and the uplifting kigo ‘climbing rose’; a thing of beauty.
Third Place
Scheherazade
by Farah Ali, Brighton, UK
I’m in love with him, but shy and awkward, I lack the elegance of other girls. Sometimes I see traces of allure in the mirror, hummingbirds of premonition perhaps, hovering at my blurred edges, flitting away when I put my glasses back on. Today, the morning sun is merciless as I sip mint tea, grateful for my long sleeves and the fig tree’s shade. He yawns, gazing at the bubbling fountain within the walled garden. A dragonfly hovers, scattering iridescence. I struggle to think of something interesting to say, but he speaks first: “Read a poem. Or tell me a story.” My heart beats faster. I do write poetry, mournful djinn best hidden from respectable company. He laces his hands behind his head and leans back, eyes closed, expectant. I study his regal features and utter a silent prayer: All I have are words, words don’t fail me now. Taking a deep breath of rose-scented air, I weave a fantastical tale as if my life depends on it.
summer maghrib
our fingers sticky
with medjool
Judges’ Comments
This is a re-imagined and distilled first person account of the story of Scheherazade from the tales known in English as The Arabian Nights. It invests the story with the twist that she delivers a story as if her ‘life depends on it’ without realizing that her life is indeed contingent on her storytelling abilities. Its single paragraph is rich with sensory notes; the taste of mint tea, the bubbling fountain, a hovering dragonfly, the air rose scented.
Then a haiku with a two-word kigo as an opening line (kigo can be of more than a single word – e.g., New Year’s Eve). Maghrib, which refers to sunset, is a time of prayer. It is also the signal for fasting to be broken (traditionally with medjool dates). Summer is considered the most difficult time for fasting as the days are longer and its heat ensures extra challenges, so ‘summer medjool’ is laden with emotional connotation in what is also a very tactile haiku.