bamboo..
to become the breath
blown through you
~Robert Wilson
between us
there also lives the
cherry blossom
old pond
a frog jumping into water
sound
~Basho
*The "Old pond" metaphore:
imagine an ancient place, perhaps a mossy temple garden, where the thought of all the past generations of people who once lived there and now are gone evokes a kind of
empty loneliness,
what Bashō termed sabi and considered an important element in haiku.
Then, drenched in this feeling of ancientness and loss, the minds of Bashō and Issa would snap back to the present, to the surprising
"water sound"
of
a frog interrupting this stillness and history.
the difference
a sparrow makes –
bare branches
sun in the city
one of those shadows
is mine
my neighbor's
ancient cat . . .
I blink first
out early . . .
I exchange greetings
with a violet
~Bill Kenney
birds and people
creeping through...
cherry blossoms
~Issa, 1796
even the pine tree
I planted grows old!
autumn dusk
~Issa, 1803
in a big swamp
just one bloom...
but it's a lotus!
~Issa, 1804
the cherry tree
that made blossom clouds
becomes charcoal
~Issa, 1813
a beggar child
walking and flying
a kite
~Issa, 1820
as usual
not quite round...
plum blossom moon
~Issa, 1822
evening falls--
the kite and the lark
come down
-Issa, 1793
drought-
under the garden tap
a violet
~ Sue Mill
snow blizzard
a passenger train looking like
Noah's Ark
~Fay
relentless wave
taking back the seashell
I took from it
~R. D. Baily
news from home...
her dress fills
with a spring breeze
~ Michele L. Harvey
mist--
the sound of a fast car
becomes light
~Ralf Bröker
first anniversary
we choose not to enter
the Garden of Remembrance
~Maeve O'Sullivan
from green goddess to
water jug
a spider's web
~Valli Poole
fading light...
a swan asks nothing
of the breeze
vagabond sun...
nothing but ink to nail
my shadow
far-reaching roots…
does the oak in autumn
ponder the sky?
(taken from a haibun)
~Claire Everett
Where rifles clicked
chameleons sing
in new green trees.
~Edward Tick
oh rock...
how long will it take
to wear you down?
~Ted van Zutphen
silver moon
climbing a scaffold of stars
unemployed builder
~Clare McCotter
rain and more rain
the welcome mat
begins to sprout
~Sandra Simpson
November rain -
the fence
around the ruin
~Bouwe Brouwer
the owl's last call
before dawn
winter solstice
school desk
one name carved
deeper than the rest
~Aubrie Cox
year’s end
the weight of snow
on an old fence
~Jacek Margolak
facing a lily
the one-year-old
raises his fist
out of darkness
into darkness—
winter dawn
~Steven Addiss
the flutter
of butterfly wings. . .
shifting clouds
~Gisele LeBlanc
diagnosis...
for now just the song
of lilacs buds
blind date—
only seeing
her ruby pendant
in every pearl bead
of her rosary—
the secrets of her heart
spring morning
the same bird song
through the new leaves
~Christine L. Villa
spring evening . .
birdsong fades
to pink silence
~Sandy Pray
The hill
disappears again
into the trees
~Kris Lindbeck
(My Suggested Revision)
again..
the hill disappears
into the trees
rain clouds
conversations shift around
the train carriage
~Alan Summers
Comment by Isamu Hashimoto:
All the passengers must be afraid of a delay. The train continues to run along the steep precipices under the rain clouds.
it's a dream and yet...
the mermaid with dark hair
diving into the wreck
~Chen-ou Liu (Ontario)
Lamp of watch-
mosquito's shadow
as big as a horse
~Petru Ioan Gârda
Abandonated home -
all under the possession
of dandelions
Adina ENĂCHESCU
A dragonfly
resting on the bench-
I stand up
* I will be picking up every precious Jewel.
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