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The Haiku Foundation

rainy season
the sky pours 
into my shoes

-- Maria Tomczak

You are here: Home / EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration / EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaborative 2019

April 16, 2019 By Jim Kacian 567 Comments

EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaborative 2019

 

Welcome to the largest collaborative poem on the internet. The United Nations has designated 2019 as the Year of Indigenous Languages. Plan to share one poem or many in the world’s largest collaborative poem! Please add your poem(s) in the Comment box below, ideally at dawn at your location, but any time that you are able. The timeline for this begins at 12:01 A.M. on April 17 on the International Date Line (which is why it seems to have started the day before, for many of us). Your poem(s) can respond to the “seed” poem:

FUJI CONCEALED IN A MIST.* Into a sea of mist whither hath Mt. Fuji sunk?

or to any of the poems posted in the Comment box, or you can even start a new thread. You may participate as often as you like. All we ask is that you respond to the theme at hand.

Enjoy!

[*This poem, included in W. G. Aston’s Grammar of the Japanese Written Language (1877) without ascription, is possibly the first haiku ever written in English — indigenous language indeed! Of course since that time we have come to quite a different understanding of what makes an indigenous language, and how endangered many of them are . . .]

Filed Under: EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration, HaikuLife, International Haiku Poetry Day Tagged With: EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration, HaikuLife Haiku Film Festival, International Haiku Poetry Day, The Haiku Foundation

Comments

  1. Muskaan Ahuja says

    May 1, 2019 at 10:03 am

    dewdrops…
    a bit of my dreams
    here and there

    Reply
  2. Elancharan Gunasekaran says

    April 28, 2019 at 8:20 am

    spring evening
    line after line
    when will this ever end?

    Reply
  3. Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian says

    April 25, 2019 at 3:58 pm

    dusk . . .
    the clouds moving
    with my worries

    World Language Day
    the river talking
    on the rocks

    Reply
  4. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 25, 2019 at 5:19 am

    speaking
    in no other language than his own
    the neighbourhood madman

    Reply
  5. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 25, 2019 at 12:32 am

    taught
    to remain wordless—
    an elder’s fart

    Reply
  6. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 20, 2019 at 7:12 pm

    Language Day—
    the stuttering teacher called
    to give a speech

    Reply
  7. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 20, 2019 at 7:35 am

    how easily
    three-year olds banter
    Dzong-kha, English, Nepali

    Reply
  8. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 20, 2019 at 7:30 am

    the silence
    after the day’s banter
    minivets settle in the canopy

    Reply
  9. Martha Magenta says

    April 20, 2019 at 7:04 am

    sea breeze…
    I breathe in
    your accent
    .

    Sharpening The Green Pencil Haiku Contest 2019

    Reply
  10. Martha Magenta says

    April 20, 2019 at 7:01 am

    hiraeth . . .
    the sound of voices
    I miss the most

    Reply
  11. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 18, 2019 at 10:13 pm

    speech & drama day
    naughty students pick
    their teachers’ voice

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 19, 2019 at 2:23 pm

      end of term play —
      with a halo around his head
      Buddha forgets his lines

      ———————————–

      A Hundred Gourds 1:2 (March
      2012)

      Reply
  12. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 18, 2019 at 8:34 pm

    learning to speak
    first to hold my tongue
    before I speak

    Note: Edited version. “I” in L2 of the previous version is changed to “to”.

    Reply
  13. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:05 pm

    learning to speak
    first I hold my tongue
    before I speak

    Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 18, 2019 at 8:55 pm

      the tourist walk
      picking up
      small customs

      Reply
  14. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:02 pm

    leaves falling on leaves
    one language eats up
    another

    Reply
  15. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 3:10 pm

     “found in translation” 
    .
    .
    .
    dying —
    body language
    left behind in the translation
    .
    .
    .
    dying body
    of language
    behind for translation
    .
    .
    .
    language left
    the dying body behind
    for translation
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 19, 2019 at 4:52 am

      D&A
      all that is
      was

      Reply
  16. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 18, 2019 at 2:55 pm

    he sings of love
    our gondelier
    the last in his line

    Reply
  17. Pat Geyer says

    April 18, 2019 at 11:31 am

    many dialects;
    Hoi Toider my favorite
    blurs in the sea mist

    Reply
  18. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 18, 2019 at 10:27 am

    foreign land
    learning to pick an accent
    I bite my tongue

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 18, 2019 at 11:02 am

      serengetti-
      learning to decipher
      an elephants rumble

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 18, 2019 at 11:40 am

        Web link includes a photo when Karen worked in the Serengeti:
        http://reasonablyadjustedtv.com/2016/01/
        .
        .
        This Lion Country
        .
        Serengeti dryness
        the gurgling call
        of a cape crow
        .
        Kilimanjaro
        looking for the peak
        and then looking higher
        .
        Gol Mountains Masai
        our only common language
        wildebeest grunts
        .
        open plains
        giraffes in the last light
        the longest shadows
        .
        night flight––
        flamingo call
        on the moon
        .
        trying hard to sleep––
        a single gazelle being eaten
        on both sides of the tent
        .
        yellow flowers
        to the horizon
        this lion country
        .
        clipped green grass––
        jasmine scrambles
        over the kopje
        .
        long after the leopard
        I see spots
        in the bushes
        .
        long dry season
        the last flower
        a baboon snack
        .

        Karen Hoy
        From: This Lion Country sequence (Serengeti) Presence issue 57 March 2017 ISSN 1366-5367
        .
        note: long dry season ws Runner-up, The Haiku Calendar Competition 2004
        .
        Africa’s Big Five and Other Wildlife Filmmakers: A Centenary of Wildlife Filming in Kenya, Jean Hartley … Teresa Clare, Marguerite Smits van Oyen, Dave Houghton, Gus Christie, Karen Hoy to name but a few: https://tinyurl.com/KarenHoySerengeti

        Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 18, 2019 at 5:58 pm

      scattered
      all the natives
      broken english

      Reply
  19. Robert kingston says

    April 18, 2019 at 9:13 am

    canary’s silence –
    the miner’s daughter
    bends double

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 18, 2019 at 9:22 am

      Canary Wharf
      right-minded people
      glued to the train
      .
      Alan Summers
      .
      Extinction Rebellion protesters were glued to a Docklands Light Railway (DLR) train at Canary Wharf
      https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-47974244

      Reply
      • Robert kingston says

        April 18, 2019 at 9:42 am

        extinction rebellion
        three hundred and ten
        reasons to change
        .
        .
        Last count.there was 310 arrests around London alone. Sadly the media don’t appear to be reporting the campaign overseas.

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 9:53 am

          Actually at least 400 arrests of people bringing the attention of serious and dangerous harm being created by practices against natural law.
          .
          There seems to be a worrying bias against all of this bringing alarming practices to the authorities, because so many people in comfy jobs etc… know they are mired in the corruption of it all, and what harm it does to people’s children and grandchildren, as well as the planet.
          .
          As one young woman said, thirty years of polite non-disruptive protest have been basically ignored or glossed over. So thirty years of inaction is having to be addressed more widely and openly. It’s also a cry for getting back some semblance of real democracy.
          .
          Fingers crossed.

          Reply
          • Robert kingston says

            April 18, 2019 at 10:58 am

            tiny Tim
            how mole hills
            become mountains
            .
            I worked from the last report I’d heard Alan.
            It truly is shocking.
            .
            A friend in the mid eighties approached a local councillor with an idea for individual wind turbines to be mounted on all house rooves. He’d already piloted it and was charging enough power to run his lights.
            The councillor became an obstruction. I’ve not spoken to him in 20 years so do not know what came of it.
            Sadly history shows that Labour have worked to solve a lot of these issues (Not perfect) but more a cohesive direction than the dog eat dog environment we’ve inherited under the current shower.

    • Lovette Carter says

      April 18, 2019 at 9:24 am

      mountain rain
      the echo when
      you say goodbye

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 18, 2019 at 9:30 am

        Wow!!! 🙂

        .
        .
        .
        Early morning rain
        the sound between
        the sound
        .
        Alan Summers
        Asahi Shimbun (Japan, June, 2013)

        Reply
        • Adjei Agyei-Baah says

          April 18, 2019 at 10:50 am

          Wow!!!😊
          .
          rain after rain the rhythm I locked myself in
          .
          Adjei Agyei-Baah
          Under The Basho, March 2018

          Reply
  20. Rebecca Harvey says

    April 18, 2019 at 7:37 am

    Into the woods
    Shrouded in shadows
    Shapeshifting

    Reply
    • Helen Buckingham says

      April 18, 2019 at 8:30 am

      cyclepath
      …lost
      in translation
      ——————-
      (Failed Haiku, 1.4, April 2016)

      Reply
    • Charlotte Kuehn says

      April 18, 2019 at 8:35 am

      out lining the blue
      wing-tips battered by
      eyes
      keen to the ground

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 18, 2019 at 9:04 am

        cricket song
        the jogger crunches
        between loose gravel
        .
        Alan Summers
        Haiku Friends vol. 1 ed. Masaharu Hirata (Japan 2003)
        Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)

        Reply
  21. Alan Summers says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:30 am

    what is language?
    on the left behind spade
    a robin lands again
    .
    Alan Summers
    .
    .
    Extinction Rebellion
    the language of right…
    up against a far right
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
  22. Robert kingston says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:23 am

    Notre dame
    yellow jackets line up
    at Macron’s door

    Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 18, 2019 at 8:14 am

      Shock- where it was gone

      Reply
      • Robert kingston says

        April 18, 2019 at 9:45 am

        sweepers over spill
        a cloud of ash
        filters through

        Reply
  23. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:21 am

     
    Do you see
    what I see:
    .
    .
    Quasimodo et Esmeralda
    (beauté la bête)
    trouver sanctuaire dans le beffroi
    .
    .
    Quasimodo and Esmeralda
    (beauty the beast)
    finding sanctuary in the belfry
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .

    Reply
  24. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 6:09 am

     
    Do you hear
    what I hear
    Matin from Notre Dame
    .
    .
    Quasimodo
    fait de la musique
    de Heavy Metal
    .
    .
    Quasimodo
    makes music
    from heavy metal

    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .

    Reply
  25. Robert kingston says

    April 18, 2019 at 5:57 am

    binary language
    an old tin can enters
    a new orbit

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 18, 2019 at 6:55 am

      I’ve been admiring many of your posted haiku here Robert! 🙂
      .
      I’ll be popping into the BHS haiku conference with Karen, hope to see you there. 🙂

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 18, 2019 at 5:56 pm

        Hi Alan,
        Sorry for the delayed reply.
        I was not able to commit during the invitation period.
        Hence I will have to wait till next year.
        Maybe their will be another opportunity, perhaps a summer ginkgo.

        Best wishes.
        Rob

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 19, 2019 at 6:47 am

          Hi Rob,
          Sorry to hear we won’t see you. Call of the Page might be doing another ginko as Slimbridge was so lovely.
          .
          Hope to see you around! 🙂

          Reply
          • Robert Kingston says

            April 21, 2019 at 8:36 am

            Hi Alan,
            Please let me know of the next ginko. We were talking about a weekend away. Where is undecided.
            .
            Carnation blooms
            a bee on the edge
            of time
            .
            🤔

          • Alan Summers says

            April 21, 2019 at 11:28 am

            Hi Robert,
            .
            We have two types of ginko planned.
            .
            No dates, but we are also planning local ginko events as there’s a meadow 2-3 minutes stroll from our house, and a wood, and a long river walk through a park and into the High Street.
            .
            Our guest bedroom isn’t ready yet, but the Best Western Angel Hotel appears to give competitive prices against local B&Bs.
            .
            The Angel Hotel is only five to six minutes stroll from our house. Keep checking our website or if you haven’t, join our newsletter! 🙂
            .
            warm regards,
            Alan
            https://www.callofthepage.org/contact/newsletter-sign-up/
            .
            We also love bees!!!

  26. Alan Summers says

    April 18, 2019 at 5:33 am

    the scent of rain
    birdsong stretches
    as far as Mars
    .
    Alan Summers
    Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum Selected Haiku Collection (Japan 2017)
    Liz Brownlee’s Resource for Poets writing for Children
    .
    .
    old tales
    moon-bright leaves
    jostle the breeze
     .
    Alan Summers
    Wild Plum 1:1 (Spring & Summer 2015)

    Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 18, 2019 at 6:22 am

      Top of the Alan, Michael, and writers! 🙂

      a note of spring-
      in dappled light
      a young song
      travels out

      Reply
      • Lovette Carter says

        April 18, 2019 at 6:27 am

        Correction: Top of the morning, I meant to write.

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 6:50 am

          Hi Lovette!!!!!!!!:-)
          .
          Interestingly I filled in the gap where you meant to include ‘morning’ and I think that’s a natural reaction for people to do so. In haiku we write so that we hope readers will fill in gaps too.
          .
          .
          a note of spring-
          in dappled light
          a young song
          travels out
          .
          Lovette Cartier
          .
          .
          A beautiful verse!!! 🙂
          .
          The language of the birds, and even if a dawn chorus might include a few bird varieties of cuss words, it still feels wonderful to our ears: If only human cussing did. 😉

          Reply
  27. Mary White says

    April 18, 2019 at 5:28 am

    this fire
    Her breaking heart
    made sacred

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 18, 2019 at 5:43 am

      ashes
      Centuries come and go
      on mother’s tongue

      Reply
  28. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 4:59 am

     
    Notre Dame
    with age comes vintage
    and palimpsest
    .
    .
    never too old to be
    a damsel-in distress
    (or in heat)    Praise the Lord
    .
    ^^ Joan made me do it – not of Arc; of Hollywood
    .

    Didn’t know
    she was going in for
    The Miracle Lift
    .
    ^^ however, that references the three: Notre Dame, Joan of Joy, and Jeanne D’Arc
    .
    .
    .
    Michael
    .
    .

    Reply
  29. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 3:28 am

    Last Supper
    all savor the favor
    of the savior
    .
    The Last Supper was late
    night in the garden
    – and a salad bar –
    all the produce
    on ice
    .
    stigmata –
    passion
    marks
    .
    .
    .

    Reply
  30. Richa Sharma says

    April 18, 2019 at 3:27 am

    summer rue–
    sparrow eggs fall
    as curtain unrolls

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 18, 2019 at 6:02 pm

      still whistling
      the blue thrush
      its nest destroyed

      Reply
  31. Robert Kingston says

    April 18, 2019 at 3:14 am

    …………………………………….
    …………………………………….
    …………………………………….
    …………………………………….
    ………wailing wall…………..
    …………………………………….
    …………………………………….

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 18, 2019 at 3:55 am

      Robert, Bravo

      I have truly enjoyed your visku (visual haiku poetry) – you’re a natural voice & vision

      .
      .
      ” . . if these walls could talk ”
      if they can wail
      they can talk
      .
      .
      if more talk
      then no wailing
      and no more wall
      .
      .
      needn’t be built – walls
      figurative phantom
      political
      .
      .
      .
      .
      .

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 18, 2019 at 6:00 am

        Very kind of you to say, Michael.
        Pleased that you enjoy my creations.

        Reply
  32. Claire Vogel Camargo says

    April 18, 2019 at 2:35 am

    Anasazi
    a ghost wind
    through Chaco Canyon

    Reply
    • Jan Benson says

      April 18, 2019 at 2:51 am

      Claire,
      .
      Love the reference to the ancient people of North America!
      .
      .
      harvest-moon zephyr
      wheels over canyon hoodoos
      ghost-whistle
      .
      Galaxy of Verse
      Volume 35, #1, pg 79
      .
      Jan Benson

      Reply
      • Claire Vogel Camargo says

        April 18, 2019 at 5:33 pm

        Jan,
        .
        Thank you for commenting on my haiku! I can imagine the Anasazi in their pueblos, voices carrying on the winds. Different dialects echoed by later indigenous tribes in the southwest USA.
        .
        Compliments on your wonderful haiku, and collection!
        .
        Claire Vogel Camargo

        Reply
  33. Michael Virga says

    April 18, 2019 at 2:11 am

    it’s approaching that last hour Good night sweet Prince 
    .
    .
    .
    sleeping in heavenly peace
    the lull without a bye
    .
    .
    .
    the lull
    without
    a bye
    .
    .
    .

    Reply
  34. Robert Kingston says

    April 18, 2019 at 1:21 am

    spring
    repotting our money plant
    the crazy world of ants

    Reply
  35. Jackie Maugh Robinson says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:33 pm

    echo
    of that first utterance
    returning comet

    Reply
  36. Jan Benson says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:14 pm

    .
    .
    the language
    of borders…
    interpreting walls
    .
    .
    Jan Benson

    Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:21 pm

      boundaries
      we turn over
      a new leaf

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 18, 2019 at 1:43 am

      piece of Nalanda
      next to the world map
      unwalling…myself

      hey Jan 🙂

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 18, 2019 at 1:44 am

        awww, space issues when writing about boundaries and borders
        .
        .
        .
        piece of Nalanda
        next to the World Map
        unwilling…myself

        Reply
        • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

          April 18, 2019 at 1:46 am

          aww, typo
          .
          .
          .
          piece of Nalanda
          next to the world map
          unwalling…myself

          Reply
      • Jan Benson says

        April 18, 2019 at 2:40 am

        Hey Pratima!
        Back at ya!
        .
        🙂
        .
        Use dots, or asterisks where you want a line-space
        .
        *
        Jan

        Reply
    • Claire Vogel Camargo says

      April 18, 2019 at 9:31 pm

      Jan,
      .
      This is so good! Space to ponder types of walls.
      .
      Claire Vogel Camargo

      Reply
  37. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:26 pm

    late night owls ghosting their reflections

    Reply
    • Lovette Carter says

      April 17, 2019 at 10:15 pm

      wrapping it up
      there’s nothing to talk
      about

      Reply
      • Paulette Y. Johnston says

        April 17, 2019 at 11:27 pm

        morning coffee break
        avian neighbors’
        lively chatter

        Reply
      • Michael Virga says

        April 17, 2019 at 11:29 pm

        Hi Lovette Carter & Happy IHPD 2019
        .
        .

        Life the gift
        never wrapped up;
        not talked about, lived
        .
        .
        .
        Michael
        .
        .
        .

        Reply
  38. Simon Hanson says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:14 pm

    Ngunnawal trail –
    estimated walking time
    twenty thousand years

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:19 pm

      Kyi -Chu temple*
      walking in the footsteps
      of bygone pilgrims
      ————————-
      * Oldest temple in Bhutan built in the 7th century.

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 18, 2019 at 1:31 am

        darn these steps
        to Tirumala
        rabid cuckoo

        Reply
        • Sonam Chhoki says

          April 18, 2019 at 6:19 pm

          temple steps —
          a man with a snake
          offers to tell my future

          *********************
          The Heron’s Nest 12:4 December 2010

          Reply
  39. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:06 pm

    first glimpse
    of Lake Como
    our guide
    falls silent

    Reply
  40. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:04 pm

    Perhaps the first Indigenous Language is the one we need to communicate with our actual self? As an adopted person I sometimes have to reach for a first language I hadn’t fully acquired.
    .
    .

    baby photos
    
from my birth mother . . .
    how do I say hello to me
    .
    Alan Summers
    The Heron’s Nest 14.2)

    Reply
    • Marion Clarke says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:14 pm

      we greet you
      before your arrival
      ultrasound

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 18, 2019 at 1:33 am

        universal Mother command
        you’d better
        better
        be…

        Reply
    • Natalia Kuznetsova says

      April 18, 2019 at 2:37 am

      a faded photo –
      the shy girl I once was
      still smiling at me

      Reply
  41. Sandi Pray says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:53 pm

    honey bees
    a child stares at
    the sound of flowers

    Reply
    • Marion Clarke says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:00 pm

      lavender harvest humming with bees

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 17, 2019 at 7:13 pm

        Atlas foothills…
        bees jostle pickers
        for saffron
        .
        Alan Summers
        A Sense of Place: MOUNTAIN – hearing ed KJMunro (August 2018)

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 17, 2019 at 7:14 pm

          the sound dome of bees
          how many shades of color
          can a human see
          .
          Alan Summers
          Mainichi Shimbun Best of Haiku (Japan 2015)

          Reply
          • Alan Summers says

            April 17, 2019 at 7:16 pm

            fairy wasps––
            the tension of rain
            on rain on rain
            .
            Alan Summers

          • Marion Clarke says

            April 17, 2019 at 7:20 pm

            final rays . . .
            still reason
            to hum

            Master of the Month, January 2017
            NHK World Haiku Masters

          • Alan Summers says

            April 18, 2019 at 5:46 am

            on her fingers
            the smell of applemint-
            two bees collide
            .
            Alan Summers
            Snapshots Four (1998)

    • Paulette Y. Johnston says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:29 pm

      to and fro
      the ghost child
      on a playground swing

      Lummox 7 Anthology 2018

      Reply
  42. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:46 pm

    Intercity train
    the common language
    of Haribos

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:51 pm

      Brilliant!!! 🙂
      .
      .
      inter-city train journey –
      a rattling window top
      shuts itself
      .
      Alan Summers
      Presence 15 (2001)

      Reply
    • Stella Pierides says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:55 pm

      slow-moving bus –
      all passengers glued
      to their phones

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 7:56 pm

        slow train
        my twin
        at every bridge

        Reply
        • Marita Gargiulo says

          April 17, 2019 at 9:14 pm

          a heated argument
          the length of the quiet car –
          in sign language

          Cattails, October 2018, pg 52

          Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 6:53 am

          Some great and wonderful train, and station, and bus haiku here! 🙂
          .
          .
          Inspired by Hitchcock and Munch:
          .
          .
          night train
          a window screams
          out of an owl
          .
          Alan Summers
          Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 14 (November 15th 2017)

          Reply
      • Richa Sharma says

        April 18, 2019 at 3:58 am

        old bus route–
        the changes that
        couldn’t change me

        Reply
  43. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:38 pm

    Normandy campsite
    the mountain stream
    babbles back

    Reply
  44. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:33 pm

    Giant’s Causeway
    the language
    of rocks

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:37 pm

      the night train

      of paper rock scissors
      
you sleep into me
      .
      Alan Summers
      c.2.2. Anthology of short-verse ed. Brendan Slater & Alan Summers
      (Yet To Be Named Free Press 2013)

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:38 pm

        I once was this stone home for another
         .
        Alan Summers
        Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 7 (2015)

        Reply
      • Marion Clarke says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:41 pm

        night train lullaby everyone succumbs

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 17, 2019 at 6:46 pm

          the night train passes
          along the mountain trail
          garlic snores
          .
          Alan Summers
          Azami #51 ed. Ikkoku Santo (Japan 1998)
          .
          The Spanish night train, full of strangers, and a heck of a lot of garlic from one geezer.

          Reply
          • Marion Clarke says

            April 17, 2019 at 6:56 pm

            😄😄😄

    • Robert Kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:00 pm

      giants causeway
      the language of water
      in each crevice

      Reply
  45. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:29 pm

    summer language school thwack of bats

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:43 pm

      sunday afternoon

      an essex skipper evades
      
an expert in the field
      .
      Alan Summers
      Blithe Spirit, December 2011 issue
      .
      Actually it’s a butterfly (Essex Skipper). 🙂
      Sundays, the smell of green grass, cucumber sandwiches with the edges trimmed, and lemonade, and willow and linseed.

      Reply
      • Marion Clarke says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:50 pm

        🙂 Ah , what a great name, Alan!

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 6:58 am

          I was lucky to go on a Bristol University walk with a passionate natural history expert. Myself and Karen were the only haiku writers, and possibly the only writers/poets, even. But it was like a ginko in other regards.
          .
          Essex Skipper:
          https://www.ukbutterflies.co.uk/species.php?species=lineola

          Reply
  46. Marion Clarke says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:26 pm

    cabinet of curiosities everyone gasps

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 18, 2019 at 12:24 am

      Hi Marion Clarke & Happy IHPD 2019
      .
      .

      cabinet of curiosities – a group-gasp
      .
      .

      Michael
      .
      .

      .
      .
      .

      Reply
      • Marion Clarke says

        April 18, 2019 at 2:16 am

        Hey, Michael – a good one 🙂
        .
        Took me awhile to get rolling this year and then it was too late!
        .
        Marion

        Reply
  47. Patricia Hawkhead says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:10 pm

    dawn mist
    finding jewels
    In the flower bed

    Reply
  48. Terri Hale French says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:07 pm

    fog or mist
    the weight
    of words

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:15 pm

      another exo-planet
      Santa Claus renews
      his visa
      .
      Alan Summers
      Living in a second haibun
      https://www.humankindjournal.org/contrib_alan_summers/issue-14-alan-summers
      .
      Santa, the ultimate polyglot! 🙂

      Reply
  49. Stella Pierides says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:05 pm

    snow flurries
    I revert to
    babbling

    Reply
  50. Michael Henry Lee says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:04 pm

    a murder of crows
    vying for that last
    word of the day

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:08 pm

      fifth kind encounter
      humans replace crows
      as an idiom of murder
      .
      Alan Summers
      Prune Juice : Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga
      Scifaiku feature Issue 21: March, 2017 editor: Steve Hodge

      Reply
      • Michael Henry Lee says

        April 18, 2019 at 5:16 am

        crows exonerated at last and so lyrically done

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 7:03 am

          Thank you MIchael! 🙂
          .
          The actual caretakers of the world, and it’s certainly not humans, are often despised. There was a great radio program on flies the other day, and proving that without flies, humans would die out very quickly, as we create so much ‘raw sewage’ to put it delicately.
          .
          And the crow family are also trying to keep up with our obsession with garbage too! 🙂
          .
          I wonder if the actual real caretakers of the planet have a “Cross- indigenous language” so they can work more effectively to slow down the destruction from the humans’ race to both self-destruct and take the planet with them? 😉

          Reply
  51. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:43 pm

    how do we say
    hello…
    for starters
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
    • John hawkhead says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:03 pm

      another goodbye
      the sounds of mourning
      International

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:05 pm

        Extinction Rebellion
        the transfer of language
        to slow down greed
        .
        Alan Summers

        Reply
  52. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:30 pm

    Babel
    the tearing and tethering
    of tongues

    (c) Adjei Agyei-Baah

    Reply
  53. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:23 pm

    code-switching
    the teacher returns home
    to his pupils

    Reply
  54. Stella Pierides says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:23 pm

    Babel
    how we came to lose
    faith

    Reply
    • Adjei Agyei-Baah says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:29 pm

      A beautiful allusion Stella. Your first line “Babel” just inspired another poem which I share below:

      Babel
      the tearing and tethering
      of tongues

      (c) Adjei Agyei-Baah

      Inspired by Stella Pierides’ “Babel” haiku

      Reply
      • Stella Pierides says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:11 pm

        Thank you, Adjei! And I enjoyed reading your poem, wow!

        Reply
  55. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:16 pm

    communication
    the first & last attempt
    at love
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:47 pm

      peeled onions
      the tears
      she leaves behind

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 17, 2019 at 5:58 pm

        as curry is medicine
        how do we learn to talk
        in just one language
        .
        Alan Summers

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 18, 2019 at 5:49 pm

          red eyes
          on a knife edge
          chilli pepper

          Reply
  56. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:04 pm

    falling leaves…
    one language settles
    into another

    Reply
  57. Nadejda Kostadinova says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:00 pm

    mix marriage
    all the languages
    the doll speaks

    Nadejda Kostadinova

    Reply
    • Adjei Agyei-Baah says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:09 pm

      I love the twist at the end of your poem. Can exhaust the humour in this one. Thanks for sharing Nadejda.

      Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:27 pm

      mixed marriage
      the certificate
      in both languages

      Reply
  58. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:59 pm

    sojourner—
    losing his tongue
    for acceptance

    Reply
  59. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:44 pm

    new life
    I wonder how they’ll speak
    to us now
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
  60. Marina Bellini says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:27 pm

    listening to
    Pino Daniele’s melodies…
    Naples’ soul

    Reply
    • Margherita Petriccione says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:52 pm

      Naples is…
      my twenties’
      light steps

      Reply
  61. Nadejda Kostadinova says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:23 pm

    watching the news
    collapsing with the spire of Notre Dame
    so many people

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:33 pm

      gasps
      around the world
      as the spire falls

      Reply
  62. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 1:00 pm

    above Notre Dame
    sound of bells …
    immortality of the soul

    Reply
    • Marita Gargiulo says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:53 pm

      accordion busker
      donates her euros –
      Notre Dame

      Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:07 pm

      lost souls
      in Shadows of Notre dame
      a candle flickers

      Reply
  63. pratima balabhadrapathruni says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:45 pm

    Offering prayers with flowers to the lost river*
    mystery manipulates me

    lost river: River Saraswati

    —
    this is in response to the seed poem.

    I thank THF for the opportunity to interact with the world participation. It was fun to pen the spontaneous responses to others poems.

    ‘Good Night All
    Big and Small’
    northern lights

    🙂

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:47 pm

      aww the spacing prob again.
      .
      .

      offering prayers with flowers to the lost river*

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 5:09 pm

        .
        .
        Entering a stop on each line helps Pratima.

        Reply
    • Michael Henry Lee says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:09 pm

      indeed

      Reply
  64. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:36 pm

    news the war to end all wars rolling
    _____________________________________

    (Bones, 5, November 2014)
    _____________________________________

    world
    breaking
    NSEW
    _____________________________________

    (Under the Basho, 2018)

    Reply
  65. Linda Ludwig says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:26 pm

    the grasp of fog
    her minds eye
    what is Mt Fuji

    Linda Ludwig
    Inverness Florida

    Reply
  66. kjmunro says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:16 pm

    into a sea of mist
    native language lessons
    on dvd
    .
    kjmunro
    Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:48 pm

      unknown dialect
      the screech of the gramophone

      Reply
    • Giovanna Restuccia says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:58 pm

      *
      basil seeds –
      in dialect grandma
      calls me “my breath”

      Reply
    • Theresa C. says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:13 pm

      the buzz
      of paper wasps…
      café chatter

      —————-

      Navajo code talker —
      in his words
      turquoise

      Theresa A. Cancro
      First published in Failed Haiku, July 2017, Issue #19

      Reply
    • Marita Gargiulo says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:25 pm

      driven off
      roads they named –
      Hammonasset Indians

      Akitsu Quarterly, winter 2019

      Reply
  67. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:09 pm

    the mists of time…
    every cliché counted
    on an abacus
    .
    Alan Summers
    .
    NOTE:
    The abacus, also called a counting frame, is a calculating tool that was in use in Europe, China and Russia, centuries before the adoption of the written Hindu–Arabic numeral system. The exact origin of the abacus is still unknown. Wikipedia

    Reply
  68. Xenia Tran says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:08 pm

    water falls
    between growing leaves
    the pure land

    Reply
  69. Xenia Tran says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:01 pm

    light rain
    around the buddha’s feet
    a sea of diamonds

    Reply
  70. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:57 am

    new first language…
    we leave out politicians
    so we can talk
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
    • Marion Clarke says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:50 pm

      indigenous language of politicians bullshit

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 18, 2019 at 7:08 am

        Thank goodness that the awful negative politics has done an HC Andersen, and both boys and girls are now shouting out “The Emperor has no clothes”! 🙂
        .
        Brilliant one line senryu by the way!!! 🙂
        .
        Politicians have robbed us of our indigenous language(s), as well as the sinister shadows behind global corporate entities.
        .
        .
        Sideswipe, or Shining the Bull
        .
        We speak you listen don’t you, don’t you, love me, love me, I am only greed and politics helping you help me.
        .
        sunrise
        the gleam of green
        being counted
        .
        .

        Reply
  71. Xenia Tran says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:48 am

    a pinch of fog
    pulling up a seat
    by the river

    Reply
  72. Eufemia Griffo says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:22 am

    Wonderful!
    I love Duomo, the most beautiful monument of my town. Thank you Sonam.

    Reply
  73. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:14 am

    harvest moon –
    baby turtle on its way
    to the ocean

    THF – A sense of place – 2018/07/11

    Reply
  74. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:13 am

    new moon…
    tides wash away
    our trace

    THF – A sense of place – 2018/07/25

    Reply
    • Helen Buckingham says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:47 pm

      driftwood–
      she draws
      a sad face
      .
      (The Mainichi, November 9, 2017)

      Reply
  75. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:12 am

    tides …
    In my selfie
    sunrise

    Wild Plum – SPRING & SUMMER 2017

    Reply
  76. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:11 am

    tsunami
    roof under
    my feet

    NHK, Haiku Master, Oct 2018

    Reply
  77. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 11:10 am

    walking path
    blown by the wind
    a touch of the sea

    Daily Haiga, 18 August 2016

    Reply
  78. Anthony Q. Rabang says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:41 am

    old journal
    learning her love language
    in baybayin*

    *a pre-colonial writing system in the Philippines

    Reply
  79. Ellen Grace Olinger says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:40 am

    reading the Gospels
    a few verses at a time
    raindrops on branches

    *

    Credit: https://charlottedigregorio.wordpress.com/

    Reply
  80. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:17 am

    rocky coast –
    sound of percussions
    tuned by the sea

    Reply
  81. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:15 am

    flower moon …
    sand gaper clams in
    dinner for two

    Reply
  82. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:13 am

    salty taste
    of morning breeze –
    a touch of sea

    Reply
  83. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:11 am

    perseids viewing …
    stars fall into
    the sea

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 18, 2019 at 12:32 pm

      alone
      watching the Perseids
      prayer beads forgotten

      ———————————-
      Otata 22 October 2017

      Reply
  84. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:06 am

    midsummer dawn …
    girl dances barefoot 
    on the beach

    Reply
  85. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:05 am

    days of practising Japanese
    and the vet says in English”:
    “You want to spay your cat?”

    Reply
  86. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 10:01 am

    morning dew –
    child follows
    sea waves

    Reply
  87. Maureen Sexton says

    April 17, 2019 at 9:58 am

    people starve
    only for a cathedral
    money speaks

    Reply
    • Marco Fraticelli says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:13 am

      so true.

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 17, 2019 at 4:48 pm

        food bank…
        the fundraiser
        for its steeple
        .
        Alan Summers

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 17, 2019 at 5:22 pm

          just giving
          a long line
          at the perley gates

          Reply
          • Alan Summers says

            April 18, 2019 at 7:11 am

            As these verses will be copied and pasted into a PDF anthology, this is for Jim’s benefit or whoever has that duty. 🙂
            .
            .
            just giving
            a long line
            at the pearly gates
            .
            Robert Kingston

  88. Tsanka Shishkova says

    April 17, 2019 at 9:58 am

    sunshine
    the smell of wet sand
    in my beach bag

    Reply
  89. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 17, 2019 at 9:32 am

    queuing for the Duomo
    hum of conversation
    in so many languages

    Reply
    • Eufemia Griffo says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:16 am

      Wonderful!
      I love Duomo, the most beautiful monument of my town. Thank you Sonam.

      Reply
  90. Robyn Hood Black says

    April 17, 2019 at 9:04 am

    new year
    sea fog surrenders
    to sun

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:13 am

      the glow
      on the calm waters . . .
      we once shared hope

      Reply
  91. Sari Grandstaff says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:44 am

    in the diaspora
    the mother tongue
    scattered like stars

    Reply
  92. Sari Grandstaff says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:41 am

    our native tongue
    suppressed
    we swallow our words

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:51 am

      back home again
      how easily we converse
      in our local tongue

      Reply
    • Anthony Q. Rabang says

      April 17, 2019 at 10:29 am

      tongue-tied
      he replies with both hands
      over his chest

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 10:48 am

      coin purse
      why do I always count
      in my native tongue

      Reply
  93. carol Jones says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:30 am

    in pine tree shade
    waiting. . .
    a poet

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:55 am

      what need for words
      pale-footed warblers
      start a duet

      Reply
  94. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:21 am

    conjugating verbs
    across a battlefield
    matins moon
     .
    Alan Summers
    Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 7 (2015)
    .
    .
    cobweb moon
    a man’s opening lines
    fill with mortar
     .
    Alan Summers
    Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 7 (2015)
    .
    .
    we learn to adjust
    the clocks of our hands
    borrowed moon
     .
    Alan Summers
    Bones – journal for contemporary haiku no. 7 (2015)
    .
    .
    pussy willow the phial of expired wishes
    .
    Alan Summers
    Bones – journal for contemporary haiku, no. 14 (November 15th 2017)
    Feature: The Basic Elements of Haiku by Clayton Beach (May, 2018)
    .
    Gendai influenced.

    Reply
  95. Diane Mayr says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:19 am

    an infant wails
    in the massing crowd
    a dozen damp bras

    dmayr, USA

    Reply
  96. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 8:02 am

    mistfall
    the swansongs
    of orb spiders
    .
    Alan Summers
    Scope vol. 61 no. 6, July 2015 (Fellowship of Australian Writers, Queensland)
    .
    .
    Toshugu shrine pines
    I try to stay as still –
    mist and dew
    .
    Alan Summers
    First credit: Hermitage ed. Ion Codrescu (Romania 2005)
    Articles: World Haiku Review Japan Article – Vending machines and cicadas (March 2003); Travelogue on World Haiku Festival 2002 Part 1 (Akita International Haiku Network, Japan 2010)
    Anthology: We Are All Japan ed. Robert D. Wilson & Sasa Vazic (Karakia Press 2012)
    Collection: The In-Between Season (With Words Pamphlet Series 2012)

    Reply
  97. robyn brooks says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:43 am

    ancestor altar –
    an old plantation shrouded
    by mist

    robyn brooks, usa

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:04 am

      the camp fire burns the misty moon halved by thin cloud
      .
      Alan Summers
      monoku credit: Presence issue 4 (May 1997)
      Anthology: Stepping Stones: a way into haiku ed. Martin Lucas (British Haiku Society 2007)
      .
      .

      Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:03 am

      sky burial
      thigh-bone trumpets
      in the fog

      ——————–
      Otata 28, April 2018

      Reply
  98. Chad Lee Robinson says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:37 am

    summer grasses
    the Lakota sings
    of a white buffalo
    .
    .
    Chad Lee Robinson
    .
    The Heron’s Nest 6:7, 2004

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:48 am

      the shaman’s song
      crying to the harvest moon
      a black-necked crane
      ————————–
      Asahi November 2012

      Reply
      • Lucy Whitehead says

        April 17, 2019 at 10:22 am

        midsummer twilight
        a horned dancer calls
        to the moon

        Asahi Haikuist Network, 3 August 2018

        Reply
        • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

          April 17, 2019 at 11:02 am

          Indian jasmine
          the kokila’s song
          of sweet anticipation

          kokila = cuckoo

          Reply
  99. Sari Grandstaff says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:36 am

    night of the murdered poets
    the mamaloshen
    silenced

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:10 am

      ” … And over the evening forest
      the bronze moon climbs to its place.
      Why has the music stopped?
      Why is there such silence?”

      ——————————————

      Osip Mandelstam, Stone #24 from Selected Poems. Trans. 1973 by Clarence Brown and W. S. Merwin.

      Reply
      • Natalia Kuznetsova says

        April 17, 2019 at 2:19 pm

        snow-capped church domes
        glimmering in the moonlight…
        unearthly silence
        ***
        starlit skies –
        coming from nowhere
        cello’s voice
        ***

        Reply
  100. Alan Summers says

    April 17, 2019 at 7:20 am

    first words
    ever

    .

    in the cold
    before first light

    .

    stars…
    the struggle
    green over gray

    .

    second word
    ever

    .

    danger moon
    the rustle
    of everything

    .

    third word
    ever

    .

    respite

    Reply
  101. Robert kingston says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:18 am

    whistling dixie
    my father long before
    budget airline

    Reply
  102. Joyce Joslin Lorenson says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:14 am

    socked in bay
    the Narragansetts dream
    in their tribal tongue

    Reply
  103. Joyce Joslin Lorenson says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:12 am

    Narragansett, Potowomut, Sachuest
    tales of indigenous language
    still on their tongues

    Reply
  104. Michael Virga says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:02 am

     
    I hear John Keats
    my brother’s voice
    freed from the urn

    *
    *

    Michael

    *
    *
    *
    *
    *

    Reply
  105. Michael Henry Lee says

    April 17, 2019 at 6:00 am

    a day at the zoo inwrapt with the giant constrictor’s silence

    **************** free speech
    as long as the wind still
    moves through the pines

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:05 am

       
      speech
      confined
      by sentences

      *
      *
      Michael

      *
      *
      *

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 17, 2019 at 11:09 am

        silence
        confined
        by speech
        *
        *
        just so
        *
        *
        🙂

        Reply
    • Michael Henry Lee says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:22 pm

      whatever’s going on this was not the plot of the haiku above not that it matters all that much but>>
      ************************************************
      a day at the zoo
      inwrapt with the giant
      constrictor’s silence

      **********************************
      free speech
      as long as the wind still
      moves through the pines

      Reply
  106. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:58 am

    deaf kids sign across the divide
    _____________________________________
    (BHS Anthology: ‘Sound’, 2014;
    ‘sanguinella’, Red Moon Press, 2017)

    Reply
  107. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:47 am

    thick note script
    [antediluvian + ]
    _________________

    (Bones, 11, November 2016;
    ‘sanguinella’, Red Moon Press, 2017)

    Reply
  108. Frank J. tassone says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:36 am

    the Irish
    my grandfather never spoke
    dawn birdsongs

    Reply
    • Marion Clarke says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:50 am

      geansaí
      the green jumper Gran knitted
      in Irish

      Reply
  109. Michele L. Harvey says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:15 am

    rush hour…
    the rising mist
    hustles too

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:58 am

      Oh where be the Nilgiris* …
      the mist’s performs
      a sleight of hand

      *Nilgiris are mountains to the south of India

      Reply
      • Wendy C. Bialek says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:59 am

        messing with
        my kigo list
        climate change

        .
        .
        .
        wendy c. bialek AZ, USA

        Reply
    • Xenia Tran says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:54 am

      seeing
      through rising and falling mist
      the first swallow

      Reply
  110. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:09 am

    returning home
    a builder’s crane
    gives me the finger
    *
    (Rattle, 47, Spring 2015;
    ‘sanguinella’, Red Moon Press, 2017)

    Reply
  111. Mr. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 17, 2019 at 5:09 am

    rainbow colors
    we all speak the same
    language of love

    Reply
    • Geethanjali Rajan says

      April 17, 2019 at 10:23 pm

      an old voice
      in the spring garden choir –
      Indian palm squirrel

      Reply
  112. Michael Virga says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:57 am

     
    rising from the east wing
    of the stone cathedral
    a wren

    *
    *
    *
    Michael

    *
    *
    *

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:29 am

      a wren
      out of a stone
      a cathedral

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:18 am

      the phoenix
      will rise again
      Notre Dame

      Reply
      • Michael Virga says

        April 17, 2019 at 9:35 am

        from pyre
        to new spire
        Notre Dame re-inspired

        *
        *
        Michael

        *
        *

        Reply
  113. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:57 am

    graffiti
    sharper
    by moonlight
    *
    (The Heron’s Nest, 7.1, March 2005)
    *
    (‘water on the moon’, Original Plus Press, 2010;
    Ditto ‘start of the season’ see below)

    Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:15 am

      moonlighting
      the calligrapher’s freelancing
      graffiti

      .
      .
      .
      wendy c. bialek az, usa

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 5:32 pm

        council workers
        blocking out
        freedom of speech

        Reply
  114. Carol Jones says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:55 am

    cherry blossom journey around the earth

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:21 am

      world tour
      in a week
      instagram special

      Reply
  115. Helen Buckingham says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:43 am

    start of the season
    the myna bird rehearses
    its builder’s whistle
    *
    (Shamrock, 9, Spring 2009)

    Reply
  116. Robert kingston says

    April 17, 2019 at 4:11 am

    ……………………………..
    ……….h…………………..
    ……….a……………………
    cross i ng continents
    ……….k……………………
    ……….u……………………
    ………………………………

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:25 am

      cold spring
      the warmth
      of another voice

      Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 18, 2019 at 1:44 pm

      Robert, this visku would make for an apt title & cover of a haiku journal
      .
      .
      and prompts me to this monoku –
      .
      .
      haiku transcontinental air lines
      .
      .
      .

      hi ku
      .
      Michael
      .
      .
      .

      Reply
  117. John Hawkhead says

    April 17, 2019 at 2:52 am

    under a spring moon
    Fujisan casts blue shadows
    the calls of white owls

    Reply
    • David Kelly says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:23 am

      still evening air
      learning the language
      of flowers

      Reply
      • Robert kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 4:13 am

        daisy
        eagerly picking
        another

        Reply
  118. John Hawkhead says

    April 17, 2019 at 2:50 am

    drifting mist
    the swinging lantern
    slowly disappears

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:17 am

      water table-
      one more message
      for the birds

      Reply
      • Robert kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 4:22 am

        Intention being cyclic.
        stork
        baby
        blanket
        Not to be misconstrued.
        Apologies if offended.

        Reply
  119. John Hawkhead says

    April 17, 2019 at 2:50 am

    mist on far hills
    her eyes in shadow
    reflect the distance

    Reply
    • Marion Clarke says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:55 am

      night of stars . . .
      famine stories told
      in whispers

      Reply
  120. Robert Kingston says

    April 17, 2019 at 2:47 am

    finger shuffling –
    the windscreen’s
    red face

    Reply
  121. Robert kingston says

    April 17, 2019 at 2:08 am

    Now for an advert
    .
    .
    .

    …………………….N……………………
    .
    .
    E…………..didgeridwoo………..W
    .
    .
    ……………………..S…………………..

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:48 am

      wind whirling
      ’round the world –
      didgeridwoo

      *
      *

      the wind inside of me is the wind inside of you   (and you and you . . )

      Michael

      *
      *

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 3:41 am

        whirligig
        along with the world
        migrating birds

        Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:37 am

      Heritage Week
      Namatjira’s ghost gums
      shadow our tent
      .
      paper wasp vol 14 no. 1, Summer 2008

      Reply
  122. Michael Virga says

    April 17, 2019 at 1:56 am

    Mt Fuji wall
    laced with veils of mist
    and a siren’s song

    *
    *
    *

    the mist rises
    pulling up with it –
    Mt. Fuji from the sea

    *
    *
    *

    Michael

    *
    *

    Reply
  123. Robert kingston says

    April 17, 2019 at 1:54 am

    ……………….s…………………
    …………….a….p………………
    ………………..I…………………
    ………………..r…………………
    ………………..e…………………
    ………t……….r……….i………..
    ….f……..e………..f………r…..
    a…………………………………e
    . ________________________.

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:39 am

      Hi Robert kingston & Happy IHPD 2019

      *
      *

      many elements unify the cathedral – and too your haiku poem

      *
      *

      asp / apse
      spire / aspire   pire(pyre)

      ^^ bring Language Poetry to the haiku aesthetic

      *
      *

      the typography à la ee cumming – bringing Visual Poetry (Apollinaire calligrammes) to the Haiku – the semblance of the steeple & Gothic cathedral blueprint.

      *
      *

      Your shaped haiku poem speaks of reconstruction after destruction – redemption after the fall –

      *
      *

      and I find that symbolic – a Divine Serendipity – the occurrence here at Holy Week & Triduum

      *
      *

      Michael

      *
      *
      *

      Reply
      • Michael Virga says

        April 17, 2019 at 2:55 am

        the carpenter-sun
        pulling all together
        manybrokenpieces

        *
              ^^ March 2019 Honorable Mention @ http://international.ua.edu/sakura/
        *
        *
        Michael

        *
        *

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 17, 2019 at 3:46 am

          mineral mix
          how man be
          comes a mountain

          Reply
        • Michael Henry Lee says

          April 17, 2019 at 5:28 pm

          very nice

          Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:21 pm

      and still the music played

      sad day
      a race
      to save our Lady

      a ring of still
      hot footing it
      from the belfry

      hired hands
      steam cleaning
      the sky

      red mist
      a stash of cash
      misses the void

      white
      carnations
      how
      the
      truth
      flows
      out

      and still the music played

      Reply
      • Robert kingston says

        April 17, 2019 at 8:22 pm

        and still the music played
        .
        sad day
        a race
        to save our Lady
        .
        a ring of still
        hot footing it
        from the belfry
        .
        hired hands
        steam cleaning
        the sky
        .
        red mist
        a stash of cash
        misses the void
        .
        white
        carnations
        how
        the
        truth
        flows
        out
        .
        and still the music played

        Reply
  124. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:21 am

    heart language
    with every stare and glance
    of a lover

    Reply
    • Natalia Kuznetsova says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:36 am

      strange word,
      familiar feeling –
      shunshu *
      —
      * “shunshu” – a Japanese kigo which depicts melancholic feeling one sometimes has in spring
      /World Haiku Review, vanguard, June 2015/

      Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 6:31 am

      her way of wishing
      love on Valentine’s Day
      heart-shaped pee on pad

      .
      .
      .
      wendy c. bialek

      Reply
  125. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:12 am

    grandpa’s visit —
    their small hands
    holding mine

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:39 am

      in the hands
      of a small boy – an orange
      – a grapefruit

      *
      *
      *
      Michael
      *
      *
      *

      Reply
      • Wendy C. Bialek says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:20 am

        she offers brussel sprouts
        but tells her Barbie doll
        it’s lettuce

        .
        .
        wendy c. bialek
        .
        .
        failed haiku september 2018 editor Adjei Adyei-Baah

        Reply
  126. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:09 am

    speak in tongues
    a higher language
    of His love

    Reply
  127. Michael Virga says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:08 am

    He art

    Sacré

    Cœur

    *
    *
    *

    Michael

    *

    *

    *

    Reply
  128. Joyce Joslin Lorenson says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:08 am

    Narragansett, Potowomut, Sachuest
    tales of indigenous language
    still on their tongues

    socked in bay
    the Narragansetts dream
    in their tribal tongue

    Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:42 am

      the fire
      in brazil’s museum
      so many tongues burn

      Reply
  129. Marietta McGregor says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:07 am

    undercliff house
    women grinding winter corn
    croon to their babies
    .
    — Blithe Spirit, 2017

    Reply
    • clysta seney says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:14 am

      Maidu basket—
      their creation tale woven
      in redbud bark glyphs

      Reply
  130. Ron C. Moss says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:06 am

    a gum nut
    falls onto snow . . .
    no sound
    .

    Ron C. Moss

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:37 am

      out of a hole
      the emptiness
      within

      Reply
  131. Marietta McGregor says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:03 am

    incommunicado…
    not really, it’s the guy
    from sys admin

    — Haiku in the Workplace, THF Troutswirl, 2017

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:49 am

      pixilating
      man
      becoming
      man

      Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:23 am

      on the topic
      of political correctness:
      kookaburras
      .
      Failed Haiku Volume2, Issue 21, Sept. 2017

      Reply
      • Wendy C. Bialek says

        April 17, 2019 at 5:56 am

        redacted language
        my country tis of thee
        hidden truths

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 17, 2019 at 8:40 pm

          laundry day
          the brown trousers
          holding a grudge

          Reply
  132. Joyce Joslin Lorenson says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:01 am

    smoke plumes
    the breath of angels
    ply Notre Dame

    Reply
  133. Marietta McGregor says

    April 17, 2019 at 12:01 am

    gannet rookery
    I don’t hear the guide
    saying ‘shush’
    .
    — Blithe Spirit #27.2

    Reply
  134. Marietta McGregor says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:53 pm

    beside her dais
    a gamut of emotions
    ASL interpreter

    Reply
  135. Vessislava Savova says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:47 pm

    embarrassing smiles
    your way to tell me
    I Love You
    .
    world traveler
    greetings for Mother’s Day
    in many languages
    .
    dug garden bed
    and a few seeds
    is that the void?

    Reply
  136. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:47 pm

    Love Day —
    deciphering the language
    of flowers

    Reply
    • Helen Buckingham says

      April 17, 2019 at 5:30 am

      late summer flowers…
      the joy
      of a good sneeze
      *
      (The Heron’s Nest, 11.3, September 2009;
      ‘water on the moon’, Original Plus Press, 2010)

      Reply
  137. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:43 pm

    if you could count
    smile as a language…
    his, hers and mine

    Reply
  138. Michael Virga says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:41 pm

       H(e  ar)t

    *
    *
    Michael

    *
    *

    Reply
  139. Marietta McGregor says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:38 pm

    all the graffiti
    I don’t understand
    scribbly gum

    Reply
    • Robert kingston says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:42 am

      teeth marks
      the missed connections
      on the young girl’s gum

      Reply
  140. Michael Virga says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:37 pm

    Notre Dame

    *
    *
    *

    son clocher
    englouti
    en flammes

    *
    *
    *

    Jeanne d’Arc

    *
    *
    *

    her steeple engulfed in flames

    *
    *
    *

    Notre Dame

    *
    *
    *
    *
    *
    *

    Reply
  141. Helen Buckingham says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:36 pm

    ribbit
    ibid.
    ______

    (Bones, 13, July 2017;
    ‘sanguinella’, Red Moon Press, 2017)

    Reply
  142. Marietta McGregor says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:36 pm

    the erect stance
    of a spear-thrower
    kanguru
    .
    — Marietta McGregor

    Reply
  143. Tzetzka Ilieva says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:29 pm

    Chattahoochee –
    the curve of a fishing rod
    sinks back into the mist
    –Tzetzka Ilieva

    (HSA SE Region 2013 Anthology)
    *Chattahoochee (river) – from Creek, means “Flowered Stones”, chatto = stone + hoche = flowered or marked

    Reply
  144. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:07 pm

    in a foreign land
    in a language
    I don’t understand

    Reply
    • Natalia Kuznetsova says

      April 17, 2019 at 1:55 am

      our Babel –
      interpreters wanted …
      urgently

      (Failed Haiku #19)

      Reply
      • Tzetzka Ilieva says

        April 17, 2019 at 8:33 am

        first poem –
        not in a language
        mother speaks
        (Asahi Shimbun, 2012)

        Reply
  145. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:01 pm

    flagellant’s path —
    an antidote to the road
    to perdition?

    Reply
  146. Billy Antonio says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:25 pm

    picking up
    the local language…
    souvenir haggle
    .
    Billy Antonio
    Laoac, Philippines

    Reply
  147. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:14 pm

    enunciation
    my lips to the world
    as interlocutor
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
  148. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:12 pm

    a plum
    firmly held
    in the rich kid’s mouth
    .
    .
    broken English
    crossing from east to west
    the jubilee line

    Reply
    • Marita Gargiulo says

      April 16, 2019 at 10:15 pm

      in broken English
      my uncle’s
      card tricks

      Modern Haiku, 48.1 (2017)

      Reply
  149. Barbara Kaufmann says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:04 pm

    mountain waterfall the power in my father’s voice

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:05 pm

      her ceaseless chatter –
      at last we draw near
      the rapids
      .
      paper wasp, vol. 16, no. 3, Winter 2010
      .

      Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:11 am

      Hi Barbara Kaufmann & Happy IHPD 2019,

      *

      and with a powerful monoku – the right form for this one

      *

      and now I need to spontaneously share a Hopkinesque response like this – 

      mountain waterfall the power in Our Father’s voice (calling us home)

      *
      *

      Michael

      *
      *
      *

      Reply
  150. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:34 pm

    worm hole
    finding one language
    to enter
    .
    .
    do aliens speak morse
    .
    .
    space dust another term for static
    .

    .
    Earth day
    another piece of junk
    cluttering the moon

    Reply
    • Helen Buckingham says

      April 17, 2019 at 10:42 am

      strangers in orbit
      reflecting on the flotsam
      behind us. ahead.
      *
      (Mslexia, 5, Spring-Summer 2000)

      Reply
  151. Barbara Tate says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:29 pm

    Mt. Fuji
    we stay another day
    for the curtain to lift

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:54 pm

      Fuji San wears
      the same look for months
      screen saver

      Reply
      • Wendy C. Bialek says

        April 17, 2019 at 4:11 am

        spring cleaning
        my sneeze…mountains
        of dust b l o w a w a y

        wendy c. bialek

        Reply
  152. Peggy Bilbro says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:28 pm

    we bargain
    by hand signals
    the price of travel
    .
    .
    practicing my deepest bow
    for my daughter-in-law’s
    mother’s visit
    .
    .
    on a warm evening
    I spread my fan
    mistaken signal
    .
    .
    warning
    from the chittering squirrel
    hawk shadow
    .
    .
    nose to nose
    with my new grandson
    his eyes answer
    .
    .
    rain, lluvia or pluie
    it falls just as softly
    in April
    .
    .
    lost
    one death at a time
    another language

    Peggy Hale Bilbro
    Alabama, USA

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:46 pm

      lost
      one death at a time
      another language

      *
      Peggy Hale Bilbro

      *
      what I couldn’t say
      first anemone
      in the spring rain

      Otata, January 25, 2018

      Reply
      • Peggy Hale Bilbro says

        April 17, 2019 at 11:52 pm

        gentle wave
        of the sea anemone
        time recedes

        Reply
  153. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:09 pm

    A Viking speaks through the Sun
    Solar Language
    .
    .
    November: Slaughter or Butcher Month
    .
    .

    Gormánuður
    the thoughts
    of food
    .
    .

    Ýlir
    the Yule month
    is language
    .
    .

    Yule month
    Odin gives us small gifts
    .
    .

    Yule month
    the children fill socks
    with hay
    .
    .

    Mörsugur
    winter solstice falls early
    for my own long night
    .
    .

    Þorri winter month
    we choose rotten shark
    with brennivín liquor
    .
    .

    fifth winter month
    .
    .
    the Gói blót
    we “first love” in words
    not yet formed
    .
    .

    April (6th Winter month):
    .
    .
    Einmánuður
    the sixth winter month
    for the boys in snow
    .
    .

    Note:
    The moon was important to Vikings but the sun was the central role. The year was mostly dark
    and cold in Scandinavia. The sun brought light and life. When the sun is high we work land to eat and live through “the long night.”

    Reply
  154. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:01 pm

    street people
    between migrant and immigrant
    empty bottles

    Reply
  155. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:34 pm

    Views of Original Language from a Fish-God
    Alan Summers
    .
    .

    hummingbird
    I pull its colors
    to create my own state
    .
    Publication credits: see haiku here (haiga #531, Japan 2011); haijinx IV:1 (2011)
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
    Anthology credit: The Humours of Haiku ed. David Cobb ISBN 978-0-9565725-4-7 (Iron Press 2012)
    .
    .
    Pharmakós the name you scratch inside
    .
    Publication credits: Monostich, a blog for 1-line ku (Wednesday, 25 May 2011)
    Article: The G-force of Blue | Touching Base with Gendai haiku (LAKEVIEW International Journal of Literature and Arts Vol.1, No.1 February 2013
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
    .
    .
    convolvulus
    a word on my tongue
    and the bumblebee
    .
    Publication credits: Blithe Spirit vol.14 no. 4 (2004); see haiku here ed. Kuniharu Shimizu (Japan 2011); haijinx volume IV, issue 1 (2011)
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN 2012)
    .
    .
    Blood Moon
    my Rhesus positive rising
    .
    Publication Credits: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
    .
    .

    giallo this restricted area my birthplace
    .
    Publication credits: Bones – a journal for contemporary haiku Issue 0.1 2012 reissued 2013; Collection: Does Fish-God Know (Yet To Be Named Free Press 2012)
    .
    .
    end of matins
    I decode into genomes
    into petals
    .
    Publication credits: Bones – a journal for contemporary haiku Issue 0.1 2012 reissued 2013
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (Yet To Be Named Free Press 2012)
    .
    .
    place of fire
    
this part of the Novel

    becomes my navel
    .
    Publication credits:
    Blithe Spirit, December 2011 issue
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
    .
    .
    beads of sweat
    I lose myself in
    the copulation of flies
    .
    Publication credits: Blithe Spirit (Vol 22 No. 3 2012) [Autumn 2012]
    Anthology credits: Sea Bandits ed Aubrie Cox (2012); With Cherries on Top 31 Flavors from NaHaiWriMo (Press Here Sammamish, Washington 2012) ISBN 978-1-878798-34-3
    Collection: Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Free Press 2012)
    .
    .
    Alan Summers
    Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
    https://www.amazon.com/Does-Fish-God-Know-Alan-Summers/dp/1479211044/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=does+fish-god+know&qid=1555453810&s=books&sr=1-3
    .
    .
    Note: sex, stars, and DNA by pre-humans and non-humans is an Indigenous Language in its own right, I believe.

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:34 pm

      buzz words
      a raven’s remark
      cuts through
      .

      Modeworte
      einschneidend die Bemerkung
      eines Rabens
      .
      – Chrysanthemum # 22, October 2017

      Reply
      • Helen Buckingham says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:33 am

        Armed Forces Day
        a dark joke passes
        among the amputees
        .
        Tag der Streitkrafte
        ein gemeiner Witz macht die Runde
        unter den Amputierten
        .
        (Chrysanthemum, 15, April 2014)

        Reply
  156. Debbie Strange says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:26 pm

    open market
    we taste the sound
    of other languages
    .
    Debbie Strange
    The Mamba, Issue 4, 2017
    .
    talking drums every song we know by heart
    .
    Debbie Strange
    Hedgerow Poems, Issue 121, 2017
    .
    Happy International Haiku Poetry Day from Canada!

    Reply
    • Michael Virga says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:31 pm

      Hi Debbie, & Happy IHPD 2019

      Debbie Strange
      from Canada
      never a stranger to me

      responding by sharing a variation on yours:

      open market
      we sample the taste
      of other tongues

      Michael in Birmingham, AL his native heartland way down south

      Reply
    • Jan Benson says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:26 pm

      Debbie
      .
      OH!
      .
      To find someone who speaks DRUM!
      .
      gentle palm-press
      numbing the harshness
      on a tone drum

      Human/Kind Journal
      Issue 1.4, April 2019
      (Haibun-Emma and Ursa)
      .
      Jan Benson

      Reply
    • Jan Benson says

      April 17, 2019 at 11:31 pm

      DRUM me more!
      .
      handheld drum
      a syncopation
      on the down beat
      .
      Human/Kind Journal
      Inaugural Issue, January 2019
      (Haibun-Izzi Is)
      .
      Jan Benson

      Reply
  157. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:26 pm

    all that remains
    of the lost tribe’s story –
    scratches and scars

    Published in “AFRIKU” (Red Moon Press, 2016)

    Reply
  158. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:24 pm

    water song…
    each pebble lends
    a note

    Shamrock Haiku Journal, No. 39

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:16 pm

      jaltarang
      a thirsty puppy
      laps up “RE”

      —

      jaltarang: musical instrument that uses water in bowls to produce the notes of music

      RE: Sa Re Ga Ma are the Do Re Mi of Indian music

      Reply
  159. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:23 pm

    Harmattan fires
    the forest crackles
    in tongues

    Africa Haiku Network Harmattan Haiku Series, Haiga #15, 23/12/16

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:46 pm

      bushfire moon
      the calligraphy
      of charred trees
      .
      Simply Haiku vol. 4 no.1,)Spring (USA) 2006

      Reply
    • Billy Antonio says

      April 18, 2019 at 12:56 am

      crackling fire sound of gargoyles
      .
      Billy Antonio
      Laoac, Philippines

      Reply
  160. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:22 pm

    after the fight
    we converse
    through our kids

    Failed Haiku Journal, May Issue 2017

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:29 pm

      he draws the curtain words between us
      .

      Moongarlic #1 November 2013)

      Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:30 am

      something he says
      the bite inside my lip

      wendy c. bialek az, usa

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 17, 2019 at 12:02 pm

        nothing
        …just nothing…
        empty spaces

        Reply
  161. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:21 pm

    all that remains
    of the lost tribe’s story –
    scratches and scar

    Published in “AFRIKU” (Red Moon Press, 2016)

    Reply
    • Peggy Bilbro says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:21 pm

      👍 lovely and poignant

      Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:22 pm

      dingo call by dingo call the terrain takes shape
      .
      – The Heron’s Nest Volume XV, Number3: September 2013.

      Reply
  162. Adjei Agyei-Baah says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:19 pm

    multi-racial uni
    my African accent
    calls for repetition

    (c) Adjei Agyei-Baah

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:03 am

      asphodels our ancestors many-tongued
      .
      Frogpond 36.1 March 2013

      Reply
  163. Ernesto P. Santiago says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:12 pm

    in the colors
    of the forest murmuring
    wind

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:05 am

      petrified forest
      the long vowels
      of my bones
      .
      Otata, July 31st 2016

      Reply
  164. Ernesto P. Santiago says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:10 pm

    tangled roots—
    the moo-ving will
    of a cow

    Reply
  165. Samantha Sirimanne Hyde says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:08 pm

    indian ocean…
    I query my identity
    yet again

    —

    Chrysanthemum # 18, Oct 2015

    Reply
  166. Simon Hanson says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:30 pm

    Pitjantjatjara –
    stories by the fire
    told under stars
    .
    .
    Pitjantjatjara: People of the western and central desert regions and one of over 250 language groups in australia around the time of colonial invasion.

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 9:24 pm

      shut up behind words the other war
      .
      ( version in Presence,/i> #45, 2011)

      Reply
      • Dr.Allu Uma Devi says

        April 17, 2019 at 4:33 am

        silent
        Earth
        Breathless

        Reply
        • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

          April 17, 2019 at 12:05 pm

          silence before
          everything blooms…
          mushroom clouds

          Reply
  167. Madhuri Pillai says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:24 pm

    stirring the pot
    a magpie starts
    the kerfuffle

    — Akitsu Quarterly, Fall 2017

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:59 pm

      kerfuffle
      a cuckoo’s song
      lost in space

      Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:11 am

      first light in the magpie’s language silver
      .
      Modern Haiku 44.1, 2013 MH 44.1, Winter/Spring 2013

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 17, 2019 at 12:08 pm

        a silver river storm through turrets of moonlight
        whoooohoooohoooooooooo

        Reply
  168. Madhuri Pillai says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:21 pm

    lapis lazuli ~
    the dusky hue
    of a crow’s flight

    — Akitsu Quarterly Fall 2017

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 16, 2019 at 6:11 pm

      at the waters edge
      a string of martins
      in rhythm and blues

      Reply
      • Peggy Bilbro says

        April 16, 2019 at 7:24 pm

        Nice!

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 17, 2019 at 3:32 am

          Thank you Peggy!

          Reply
    • Marietta McGregor says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:43 pm

      church archways
      whispering with swallows—
      spring vespers

      cattails, Spring, 2017

      Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:50 am

      haijin
      stutters by the pond
      egrets departing

      wendy c. bialek az, usa

      Reply
  169. Hansha Teki says

    April 16, 2019 at 4:51 pm

    Today is also our wedding anniversary (parallel haiku – I hope it formats properly)
    *

    ia manuia

    in silence

    le aso fa’amanatu

    the roots of language

    o le fa’aipo’ipoga

    that bind us

    Reply
    • Hansha Teki says

      April 16, 2019 at 4:53 pm

      each even numbered line should be tripled indented and italicised.

      Reply
    • Peggy Bilbro says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:25 pm

      This is lovely Hansha.

      Reply
  170. Olivier Schopfer says

    April 16, 2019 at 4:42 pm

    no small talk between you crows
    (Otata 24, December 2017)

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 16, 2019 at 4:57 pm

      what does it know
      the crow
      on the wind-torn prayer flag

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 6:29 pm

        through bullet points
        clipped raven wings
        in the tower keep

        Reply
  171. JS Graustein says

    April 16, 2019 at 4:29 pm

    sigwan awan —
    breathing in
    lake’s first breath
    …
    *In Abenaki (first-language of New Hampshire) sigwan = spring & awan = fog*

    Reply
    • JS Graustein says

      April 16, 2019 at 5:06 pm

      nebes weskata —
      honking geese sound the retreat
      of lake ice
      …
      *In Abenaki (first-language of New Hampshire) nebes = lake & weskata = thaw*

      Reply
  172. Valentina Ranaldi-Adams says

    April 16, 2019 at 4:27 pm

    accented English –
    Italian patient
    and the Indian doctor

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:27 pm

      auscultation —
      hesitating a bit
      between heartbeats

      Reply
  173. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 4:26 pm

    out of the mist
    a buzzard rises
    and keeps on rising

    ————————————-
    Otata 29. May, 2018, haibun, “Singing the Landscape”

    Reply
  174. Bona M. Santos says

    April 16, 2019 at 3:33 pm

    mother’s native tongue
    words locked away
    in my childhood memory

    *one of the languages still spoken in a pocket of the northern area out of 170+ languages in a country of 7,641 islands

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 16, 2019 at 3:59 pm

      unlocking memories
      father’s voice
      on an old tape

      Reply
  175. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 3:13 pm

    In her fingers
    the sign of her love
    with a kiss

    Reply
  176. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 3:05 pm

    lines in the sand
    a cast of hermit crabs
    shuffling homes

    Reply
  177. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:41 pm

    the languages
    we learned as children…
    moss-covered stump
    .
    Daily Haiku Cycle 20

    Reply
    • Olivier Schopfer says

      April 16, 2019 at 5:04 pm

      languages yet
      to be discovered
      exoplanets

      Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:12 pm

      foreshore erosion –
      just a few patches
      of our first language left
      .
      (Highly Commended. Results of comp. in FreeXpression vol XX11 issue 5, May 2015)

      Reply
  178. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:33 pm

    leaves changing a language i can’t fully grasp
    .
    tinywords 11.3

    Reply
  179. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:27 pm

    withered brambles
    a robin sings
    to the winter sun
    .
    Presence 61

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:34 pm

      the caws
      around the waterhole
      tropical mayhem

      Reply
      • polona oblak says

        April 16, 2019 at 1:42 pm

        a crow
        by any other name…
        deep winter
        .
        Frogpond 40.2

        Reply
        • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

          April 16, 2019 at 1:45 pm

          deep winter?
          sweat on the brow
          cools a something…

          Reply
  180. Erin Castaldi says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:24 pm

    standing rock
    adjusting their cadence
    hoof beats

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:32 pm

      the cadence
      of dust rising higher
      stampede in the gorge

      Reply
  181. pratima balabhadrapathruni says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:16 pm

    Nilgiris the colours of my bruise

    –Nilgiris are the blue mountains, to the the south, of India they look bluish at dusk.

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 16, 2019 at 4:34 pm

      her broken face . . .
      the iridescent blue
      of ripened plums

      ————————–
      Under the Basho Spring/Summer 2014

      Reply
  182. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 1:13 pm

    nameless till i look them up
    marbled white
    on greater knapweed

    Reply
    • polona oblak says

      April 17, 2019 at 3:21 am

      brezimni dokler jih ne poiščem
      travniški lisar
      na glavincu

      Reply
  183. Eufemia Griffo says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:55 pm

    cave paintings
    the twinkling stars
    covered in dust

    Eufemia Griffo Italy

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:00 pm

      constellations
      my consternation
      in morse
      .
      Alan Summers
      https://astroengine.com/2009/01/21/morse-code-messaging-with-the-stars/

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 16, 2019 at 1:22 pm

        applause in morse
        the epiphany
        of a standing ovation

        Reply
    • Lucy Whitehead says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:34 pm

      women’s handprints
      in ancient caves
      the language of touch

      Reply
  184. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:53 pm

    border control
    seeing my Bhutanese passport
    he speaks s l o w l y

    Reply
  185. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:41 pm

    biopsy results
    my aunt with no English
    understands cancer

    Reply
  186. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:32 pm

    end of Uffizi tour
    “grazie mille” not enough
    for what I feel

    Reply
  187. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:22 pm

    Venice nightfall
    the silence
    after the last vaporetto

    ————————-

    Otata 19 (July 2017)

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:30 pm

      the resilience
      of Pavarotti floating
      across the river

      Reply
  188. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:16 pm

    tenement washing lines
    in the afternoon breeze
    brawling, lovemaking noises

    ————————————
    otata 3 (March 2016)

    Reply
  189. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:15 pm

    Petticoat lane-
    the canary’s raspy tweet
    out of it’s cage

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:39 pm

      silent crickets
      in their little cages
      Forbidden City

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 6:35 pm

        Spring dusk, the blackbirds echo

        Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 6:36 pm

        Spring dusk, the blackbirds echo…

        Reply
        • Robert Kingston says

          April 16, 2019 at 6:37 pm

          Oops delete repetition please.

          Reply
          • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

            April 16, 2019 at 7:38 pm

            an echo
            of the swear word …
            oooops !

          • Wendy C. Bialek says

            April 17, 2019 at 7:39 am

            I thought repeated words
            intentional…don’t delete
            the echo

      • Anthony Q. Rabang says

        April 17, 2019 at 10:53 am

        government reform
        the silver duct tape
        on a child’s mouth

        Reply
  190. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:14 pm

    sunless morning
    and yet …
    sunflowers in Auschwitz
    —————————-
    Mainichi Daily News Haiku in English Dec. 18, 2014

    Reply
    • Wendy C. Bialek says

      April 17, 2019 at 7:57 am

      sunflowers bend their heads
      only the passing train
      survives camp

      Reply
  191. Karen Hoy says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:13 pm

    Paris to Milan train
    the baby cries
    in every language
    .
    Karen Hoy
    First publication:
    Blithe Spirit Vol. 19 No.4 (December 2009)
    .
    Anthology credits:
    Another Country: Haiku Poetry from Wales ed. Nigel Jenkins, Ken Jones and Lynne Rees
    (Gomer Press 2011)
    .
    naad anunaad: an anthology of contemporary international haiku
    ed. Shloka Shankar, Sanjuktaa Asopa, Kala Ramesh (Vishwakarma Publications, 2016)

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:53 pm

      Love the images in this one Karen.

      Reply
  192. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:10 pm

    sound of the waterfall
    flows from his flute —
    the street musician

    ———————————–

    “Portrait of a Lady” [haibun], A Hundred
    Gourds 2:4 (September 2013)

    Reply
  193. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 12:07 pm

    Seine boat cruise —
    the steward asks in French
    what translation we need
    ——————————

    cattails Premier Issue January 2014

    Reply
  194. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:52 am

    where the lammergeir calls
    prayer flags wear
    the hue of silence

    —————————–
    Failed Haiku Volume 2, Issue 18 2017, haiga to own photograph

    Reply
  195. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:50 am

    quake-destroyed shrine
    a raven on the stone Tara
    questioning the dusk

    —————————-
    A Hundred Gourds 5:2 March 2016

    Reply
  196. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:50 am

    rape seed field
    a butterfly
    in native yellow

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:48 pm

      all the saffron in sudden crocuses

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 6:51 pm

        toga party
        the slip of perfume
        on the goddesses neck

        Reply
  197. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:48 am

    ancestral shrine
    the woman uncombed
    turns the prayer wheel

    ———————————-
    Otata 30 June 2018, haibun, “Veiled Admission (notes on dying)”

    Reply
  198. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:43 am

    as if in echo
    of buried drums . . .
    the sound of woodpeckers
    ——————————-
    Otata 31, July 2018, haibun, “What does the sacred past hold?”

    Reply
  199. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:41 am

    your silence
    more deafening than cymbals
    echoing in the ravine

    ——————————-
    Failed Haiku Failed Haiku Volume 2, Issue 20 2017, haiga to a photograph by Pem
    C. Gyamtsho

    Reply
  200. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:39 am

    Kazimierz dream –
    a woman stands in the doorway
    her mouth full of pins

    —————————
    Failed Haiku Volume 2, Issue 19 2017 haiga to own photograph

    Reply
  201. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:37 am

    waterfall of lichen
    deep in the mountain forest
    a musk deer calls
    ——————————–
    Genjuan 2015 Grand Prix Winning Haibun, “Mining Memories”

    Reply
  202. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:35 am

    Reading Genji
    I want to smell the incense
    he prepares for Fujitsubo

    ——————————-
    Otata 32 August 2018

    Reply
  203. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:32 am

    pressing the silence
    of an ancient grief
    frozen lip of waterfall
    ——————————-
    Otata 28, April 2018, haibun, “They came to conquer . . . “

    Reply
  204. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:27 am

    all day fog
    the white-bellied heron’s cry
    almost fierce

    _____________________
    cattails April 2019

    Reply
    • Olivier Schopfer says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:45 pm

      winter fog
      the way your accent reveals
      new panoramas
      (bottle rockets #33, August 2015)

      Reply
      • Sonam Chhoki says

        April 16, 2019 at 4:45 pm

        fog lifts
        briefly the promise
        of distant lands

        Reply
  205. Corine Timmer says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:25 am

    familiebijeenkomst—
    ABN komt niet verder
    dan de voordeur

    family gathering—
    Standard Dutch doesn’t make it
    past the front door

    Dutch and English versions
    By Corine Timmer

    Reply
    • Corine Timmer says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:38 am

      I am not sure why it’s all attached. Here is the original Dutch haiku again. The Netherlands knows and recognizes many dialects. My parents grew up in an area in Holland where they speak Betuws, a South Guelderish dialect which falls under the umbrella of Low Frankish languages. ABN stands for Algemeen Beschaafd Nederlands (Standard Dutch).

      familiebijeenkomst—
      ABN komt niet verder
      dan de voordeur

      Corine Timmer 2019

      Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:55 am

      familiebijeenkomst—
      ABN komt niet verder
      dan de voordeur
      .
      .
      family gathering—
      Standard Dutch doesn’t make it
      past the front door
      .
      Dutch and English versions
      By Corine Timmer (2019)
      .
      .
      The Netherlands knows and recognizes many dialects. My parents grew up in an area in Holland where they speak Betuws, a South Guelderish dialect which falls under the umbrella of Low Frankish languages. ABN stands for Algemeen Beschaafd Nederlands (Standard Dutch).

      Reply
      • Corine Timmer says

        April 16, 2019 at 12:43 pm

        Thanks, Alan.

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 16, 2019 at 12:49 pm

          It’s a real pain, but I put a single dot (period, fullstop, endstop symbol) in between to space out certain lines.
          .
          I have seen some people who know how to use HTML code for this blog, and I’m envious as I don’t know how to do it myself. 🙂

          Reply
  206. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:25 am

    fog-bound shrine
    the sound of dung-kar **
    comes and goes

    **********

    ** conch

    ********
    Otata 38 February 2019

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:42 pm

      a fog of incense
      chokes my prayer
      into wisps

      Reply
      • Sonam Chhoki says

        April 16, 2019 at 3:57 pm

        mid-summer rite
        incense of mist smoking
        in the blue pine grove

        Reply
  207. Sonam Chhoki says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:21 am

    FUJI CONCEALED IN A MIST.*
    Into a sea of mist whither hath Mt. Fuji sunk?

    *********
    response to seed poem:

    ***********

    in the smoke
    glowing briefly
    the spire falls

    *********

    Reply
    • Peggy Bilbro says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:37 pm

      So very poignant for today. Thank you.

      Reply
  208. Natalia Kuznetsova says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:21 am

    no man’s land …
    the wild wind scattering
    seeds of distrust

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 12:03 pm

      the spin doctor’s dilemma of which language to avoid truth
      .
      Alan Summers
      .
      .
      the spin doctor’s dilemma of skipping autochthonous truths

      .
      Alan Summers

      .
      Spin: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spin_(propaganda)

      Reply
  209. Nikolay Grankin says

    April 16, 2019 at 11:11 am

    heat wave
    poplar fluff
    rises and falls

    Reply
  210. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:57 am

    Docklands
    the mist develops
    a horn

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 12:35 pm

      Isle of Dogs
      rumours of rhyming slang
      kept secret
      .
      Alan Summers
      .
      Isle of Dogs history:
      https://isleofdogslife.wordpress.com/tag/cockney/

      Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 2:50 pm

        perleys delight
        holding strands
        of the poor man’s tongue

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 16, 2019 at 7:59 pm

          Pearly Kings & Queens
          c=o=m=m=u=n=i=c=a=t=i=n=g
          the sheen of perspiration
          .
          Alan Summers
          .
          .
          NOTE:
          .
          L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E (magazine)
          https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%3DA%3DN%3DG%3DU%3DA%3DG%3DE_(magazine)
          and
          https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pearly_Kings_and_Queens

          Reply
          • Robert Kingston says

            April 17, 2019 at 2:56 am

            Nice!

        • Alan Summers says

          April 18, 2019 at 7:12 am

          As these verses will be copied and pasted into a PDF anthology, this is for Jim’s benefit or whoever has that duty. 🙂
          .
          .
          pearly’s delight
          holding strands
          of the poor man’s tongue
          .
          Robert Kingston

          Reply
  211. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:56 am

    do atoms speak?
    the Paschal moon
    over Notre Dame
    .
    Alan Summers
    .
    The Paschal moon appears on April 19th

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 16, 2019 at 3:55 pm

      Notre Dame
      a flame feathered bird
      out of the bank

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 16, 2019 at 6:26 pm

        different utopia
        Quasimodo’s private moon
        over Notre Dame
        .
        Alan Summers
        Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)
        https://www.amazon.co.uk/Does-Fish-God-Know-Alan-Summers/dp/1479211044/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=does+fish-god+know&qid=1555453543&s=gateway&sr=8-1

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 16, 2019 at 6:27 pm

          kwĭkˈsĭlˌvər: I’ve a need for the next biblical cubit
          .
          Alan Summers
          Does Fish-God Know (YTBN Press 2012)

          Reply
      • Peggy Bilbro says

        April 16, 2019 at 7:42 pm

        the flames of
        eight hundred years of prayers
        Phoenix

        Reply
  212. Natalia Kuznetsova says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:51 am

    reaping
    what we all sow –
    discord

    Reply
  213. ELLA WAGEMAKERS says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:43 am

    wild tulips
    like my parents
    they are non-existent

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:56 am

      lost again
      among tangled trees
      I wake up to the alarm

      Reply
  214. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:38 am

    withheld plums
    the choir
    reaches higher

    Reply
  215. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:29 am

    London borders –
    the west end boy loses
    the L in water

    Reply
  216. Du'Ralle of the House of K'toh-maag (call me Alan) says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:29 am

    a nightingale sings
    Shakespeare in Klingon…
    old and new origins
    .
    Alan Summers
    .
    .
    Note:
    .
    Recently we’ve learnt that Turkish immigrants built Stonehenge in England, so we are all inter-connected despite an apparent difference in our immediate and general languages.
    .
    .
    re: Shakespeare in Klingon
    https://www.shakespeare.org.uk/explore-shakespeare/blogs/shakespeare-klingon/

    Reply
  217. Marita Gargiulo says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:28 am

    deep mist –
    surprised, we all point
    “Fujisan”!

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 16, 2019 at 12:59 pm

      gone
      in the fog
      the rope bridge to the shrine

      Reply
  218. Robert Kingston says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:24 am

    family tree
    seeing our features
    in distant lands

    Reply
    • Natalia Kuznetsova says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:02 am

      on the old oak’s stump
      sawdust and countless rings –
      my family tree
      *
      ( Basho Festival Contest, 2013)

      Reply
      • Laurie Greer says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:24 am

        discarded
        as if it were nothing
        O’

        Reply
      • Robert Kingston says

        April 16, 2019 at 5:53 pm

        knot rings
        in the clutches of birds
        an endless story

        Reply
    • Bisshie says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:12 am

      is my nose
      American
      or Irish?

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:57 pm

      is my Inglish
      near native enough
      Yoda?

      Reply
  219. Ruth Powell says

    April 16, 2019 at 10:11 am

    morning mist
    from a light standard
    raven speaks

    Reply
  220. Helen Buckingham says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:59 am

    dawn chorus
    broadcasting
    seeds of light
    *
    (Shamrock, 21, Spring, 2012)

    Reply
    • Laurie Greer says

      April 16, 2019 at 10:36 am

      Joining the dawn chorus
      full-throated lilies

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:02 pm

      sunrise
      a lotus blooms
      piano piano *

      *piano piano in Italian for slowly

      Reply
  221. Marta Chocilowska says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:56 am

    Bashō in Silesian
    I ask Uncle Google
    what he means

    Reply
    • Peggy Bilbro says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:46 pm

      😊

      Reply
  222. Helen Buckingham says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:53 am

    border dispute
    “I’m English” she trills
    Welsh as daffodils
    *
    (for my Tallowyn Godmother)
    Xxx

    Reply
    • Lorin Ford says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:59 pm

      🙂 Helen . . . yep 🙂 same with my maternal grandmother (the family had to move from Wales to Liverpool for work, then she came to Australia by herself when she was 18.
      .
      And then there was the other lot.
      .
      the ancestors
      mutter their grievances . . .
      whiskey moon
      .
      3Lights Journal #1, Jan. 2010

      Reply
      • Helen Buckingham says

        April 17, 2019 at 6:51 am

        Thanks Lorin! Love the ku…..I can taste the bitterness of that whiskey moon. X

        Reply
  223. Helen Buckingham says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:45 am

    welsh mist–
    signposts thick
    with consonants
    *
    (for my Swansea Mum)
    Xxx
    (Modern Haiku, 42.1, Winter-Spring, 2011)

    Reply
  224. Maureen Sexton says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:29 am

    boomerang carving
    elders recalls words
    to teach the young

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:39 am

      the oracle’s song
      so many words
      we don’t use anymore

      Reply
    • Billy Antonio says

      April 17, 2019 at 8:44 pm

      deep roots…
      retelling grandma’s tales
      in Pangasinan*
      .
      Billy Antonio
      Laoac, Philippines
      .
      .
      *Pangasinan (Salitan Pangasinan) is one of the major languages of the Philippines.
      https://www.google.com/amp/s/newsinfo.inquirer.net/1061225/pangasinan-as-language-on-brink-of-extinction/amp

      Reply
  225. Eufemia Griffo says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:22 am

    Navajo song
    reaching to the sky
    an old prayer

    Eufemia Griffo Italy

    Reply
    • Natalia Kuznetsova says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:08 am

      deserted beach …
      a lone woman singing
      in her native tongue

      Natalia Kuznetsova, Russia

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:12 pm

      deserted beach
      the ocean
      sings her own song

      Reply
    • Jan Benson says

      April 18, 2019 at 12:05 am

      Eufemia,
      So often, native imagery and expression of “nature values” are lost on editors.
      .
      Thank you for this haiku!
      .
      bone moon
      the ululations
      of mothers
      .
      Wild Voices Spring 2017
      .
      Jan Benson

      Reply
  226. Laurie Greer says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:22 am

    glacial tongue
    too fast
    to catch

    Reply
  227. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:22 am

    quiet witterings
    the art of yes or no
    in secret ways
    .
    Alan Summers

    Reply
  228. Billy Antonio says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:17 am

    the urge
    to speak his mother’s tongue
    tangled vines
    .
    Billy Antonio
    Laoac, Philippines

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:30 pm

      the urge
      to remain silent
      … spilling beans

      Reply
      • Billy Antonio says

        April 17, 2019 at 8:14 pm

        father/son talk…
        filling the gaps
        with silence
        .
        Billy Antonio
        Laoac, Philippines

        Reply
  229. Aparna Pathak says

    April 16, 2019 at 9:01 am

    ancient language
    on the terrace
    peacock feathers

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:29 pm

      off the terrace
      peacock in panther maw
      ROAR!!!!

      Reply
  230. Eufemia Griffo says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:56 am

    Etruscan runes
    the forgotten words
    of ancestors

    Eufemia Griffo Italy

    Reply
    • Marita Gargiulo says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:02 am

      returning to Sorrento –
      my Italian immigrant
      dialect

      Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:33 pm

      lusting for avakai
      as I eat gelato
      we are what we eat?

      avakai – mango pickle

      Reply
    • Jan Benson says

      April 18, 2019 at 12:09 am

      Eufemia,
      Again, I love the runes KU.
      .
      zipper web
      decoding the runes
      of spiders
      .
      Blithe Spirit 47.3
      Summer 2017
      .
      Jan Benson

      Reply
  231. Helen Buckingham says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:50 am

    Tor Woods
    the morning after…
    a Babel of birdsong

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:35 pm

      hangover
      the morning after
      the banshees of traffic

      Reply
  232. Marilyn Ashbaugh says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:47 am

    I duck
    Into a foxglove . . .
    her language

    Reply
    • Sonam Chhoki says

      April 17, 2019 at 9:48 am

      pale gold foxglove heads
      open to speckled violet throats . .
      what hidden code is this?

      Reply
  233. Ellen Grace Olinger says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:43 am

    paintings of trees
    on old pine walls
    quiet music

    *

    Published in Four Hundred and Two Snails, Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthology 2018, edited by Nicholas M. Sola.

    Reply
  234. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:38 am

    this for fun… and just because 🙂
    .
    soaring buzzard—
    what do you see *
    .
    .
    *we don’t know what the bird sees but what the viewer will see mostly depends on where they live:
    in Europe it’s a bird of prey
    in America it’s a vulture
    elsewhere???

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:22 pm

      *old turkey buzzard
      flying high flying high *
      Russian lyrics

      * Mackenna’s Gold

      Reply
  235. Maureen Sexton says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:35 am

    sunrise
    the first time he speaks his own
    language in public

    Reply
  236. Lucy Whitehead says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:10 am

    Romanian breakfast
    a conversation in
    local flavours

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 12:29 pm

      tasting my Welsh
      
in a lava breakfast . . .
      the dew falling
      .
      Alan Summers
      .
      Note:
      .
      “the dew falling” from Under Milk Wood:
      http://oedipa.tripod.com/thomas.html
      .
      Lava or Laverbread is a fantastic Welsh core “crop” food of seaweed containing vitamin B12, iron, iodine etc . . . initially for hard-working miners, and also people recovering from ill-health. A great breakfast! 🙂

      Reply
      • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

        April 16, 2019 at 2:28 pm

        ‘ab kya kahe’
        romain lettuce
        in dal tadka

        🙁

        ab kya kahe = what is to be said,…but actually translates into – Dear Gawd

        Reply
  237. Margie Gustafson says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:10 am

    To climb Mt. Fuji
    10,000 yen admission
    No poet discount

    Reply
  238. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:04 am

    rolling potica
    my mother’s hands
    now mine

    Reply
    • polona oblak says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:40 am

      zvijam potico
      mamine roke
      zdaj moje

      Reply
  239. Ellen Grace Olinger says

    April 16, 2019 at 8:01 am

    loved for years
    and now I know your name
    blue chicory

    *

    Credit: https://charlottedigregorio.wordpress.com/.

    Reply
  240. polona oblak says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:58 am

    old recipe book
    we’re guessing
    the ingredients

    Reply
    • polona oblak says

      April 17, 2019 at 2:39 am

      stara kuharica
      ugibamo
      sestavine

      Reply
  241. Marilyn Ashbaugh says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:50 am

    bee keeper
    I learn
    to hum

    Reply
  242. Lucy Whitehead says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:49 am

    revived language –
    a Cornish valley bright
    with wild violets

    Reply
    • Topher Dykes says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:37 am

      Lizard Point
      the lowing cow
      answers the foghorn

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:45 am

        Land’s End
        I see my voice
        in the sea
        .
        Alan Summers
        https://www.visitcornwall.com/places/lands-end
        .
        I’ve been fortunate to run haiku workshops from Land’s End (and elsewhere in Cornwall); and other parts of the South of England and all the way up to Aberdeen, Scotland, so far. 🙂

        Reply
        • Lucy Whitehead says

          April 17, 2019 at 2:06 pm

          white noise
          waves thrash the cliffs
          at the Crown Mines

          (A Sense of Place, Troutswirl Blog, The Haiku Foundation, 18 July 2018, The Shore – hearing)

          Reply
  243. Lakshmi Iyer says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:38 am

    banyan tree-
    searching my
    family seed

    Reply
  244. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:34 am

    a bit of his heart…
    so many ways to show
    endearments

    Reply
  245. Karen Hoy says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:32 am

    hyena cub cull
    the alpha female’s calls
    echo against the hill
    .
    Karen Hoy
    British Haiku Sosciety 2016 Members’ Anthology “Beginnings”
    .
    .

    Gol Mountains Maasai –
    our only common language
    wildebeest grunts
    .
    Karen Hoy
    .
    True story: Each Maasai warrior had a different dialect or language, but everyone knew gnu (Wildebeests) grunts including this author so fluid communication was able to be made. The Gol Mountains are part of the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, Tanzania, Africa

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 2:37 pm

      a panther
      at my favourite restaurant
      …butter chicken

      *true story

      Reply
  246. Olivier Schopfer says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:23 am

    forgotten valleys
    Switzerland’s
    fourth language

    Reply
  247. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:20 am

    birth mother visit a cabbie talks of spring equinoxes
    .
    Alan Summers
    proletaria – politics philosophy phenomena (April 2019) ed. Elancharan Gunasekaran
    .
    .
    eye of the song a blackbird touching the void
    .
    Alan Summers
    Winning haiku, The British Haiku Society Awards 2018/19 (Haiku Section) judge: Scott Mason
    .
    .
    fainter stars the bluebells shake out a morning
    .
    Alan Summers
    Sonic Boom, Issue Thirteen 2018 ed. Shloka Shankar
    .
    .
    Note: Even flora and fauna have their own Indigenous Languages.

    Reply
    • Vicki Miko says

      April 16, 2019 at 11:26 am

      Hello Alan Summers,

      Your poem is so lovely. Your “Note” especially, yes, here’s to the language of flora and fauna:

      fainter stars the bluebells shake out a morning
      .
      Alan Summers
      Sonic Boom, Issue Thirteen 2018 ed. Shloka Shankar
      .
      .
      Note: Even flora and fauna have their own Indigenous Languages

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:36 am

        Hi Vicki Miko,
        .
        That’s very kind of you.
        .
        This is how I felt in my local woods (Wiltshire UK) just 3 minutes stroll from my house:
        https://www.familiesonline.co.uk/local/wiltshire/in-the-know/bluebells-near-you-in-wiltshire
        .
        Those bluebells spoke to that little boy, and to the boy that is still me too. 🙂

        Reply
        • Vicki Miko says

          April 17, 2019 at 2:42 pm

          Ohh, nice! I know the feeling! I speak to my flora fauna friends often 🙂

          Reply
      • Vicki Miko says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:40 am

        a heart carved
        on the cherry tree
        when do they cry

        Reply
        • Alan Summers says

          April 16, 2019 at 11:51 am

          Beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!
          Thanks Vicki!
          .
          .

          the snow-spinning wind
          I dream of only big trees
          in my prison yard
          .
          Alan Summers
          Runner Up, The IAFOR Vladimir Devidé Haiku Award 2015
          The International Academic Forum (IAFOR)

          Reply
          • Vicki Miko says

            April 17, 2019 at 2:44 pm

            Ohh, nice! I know the feeling! I speak to my flora fauna friends often 🙂

            Thank you so much, Alan, your comment makes me happy 😊

          • Vicki Miko says

            April 17, 2019 at 3:06 pm

            The ”indigenous language” yes!

            Cleve Backster, ”The Secret Life of Plants”
            and
            Ecologist Suzanne Simard on ”A world of infinite, biological pathways that connect trees and allow them to communicate, and allow the forest to behave as if it’s a
            single organism.”

  248. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:17 am

    between valleys
    they greet each other
    in whistles

    Reply
    • Alan Summers says

      April 16, 2019 at 12:19 pm

      train whistle
      
a blackbird hops

      along its notes
      .
      Alan Summers
      .
      First publication: Presence #47 (2012)
      .
      Anthology credit: naad anunaad: an anthology of contemporary international haiku ed. Shloka Shankar, Sanjuktaa Asopa, Kala Ramesh (India, 2016)

      Reply
  249. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:14 am

    farmer’s toil —
    his hands where
    his heart speaks

    Reply
  250. Willie R. Bongcaron says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:11 am

    twisted tongue…
    is it hard to speak
    the language of love

    Reply
    • Olivier Schopfer says

      April 16, 2019 at 1:29 pm

      evening bus
      two English teens
      French kissing
      (Prune Juice 22, July 2017)

      Reply
      • Michael Virga says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:12 pm

        Hi Olivier Schopfer, & Happy IHPD 2019

        *
        *

        Olivier, I am sharing a couple your continental haiku prompted me to:

        *

        lovers face to face
        a Brit & Japanese
        engaged in French

        *
        *

        a French kiss
        the Universal tongue
        of passion

        *
        *

        Reply
        • Olivier Schopfer says

          April 17, 2019 at 3:40 pm

          Hi Michael. I enjoyed your two poems. Happy IHPD 2019 too!

          better
          than language
          a kiss

          Reply
  251. Alan Summers says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:09 am

    cloudshifting
    the robin’s song
    between sobs
    .
    Alan Summers
    .
    From “Paper Tears”
    Narrow Road: Flash Fiction – Poetry – Haibun
    Volume 2, August 2017 ed. Rohini Gupta; Raamesh Gowri Raghavan; Paresh Tiwari
    .
    Note: Not all Indigenous Languages are human alone.

    Reply
    • Olivier Schopfer says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:21 am

      far from home
      the rustle of willow leaves
      speaks my language
      (Issa’s Untidy Hut : Wednesday Haiku #198, January 14, 2015)
      (Naad Anunaad : an Anthology of Contemporary World Haiku, 2016, edited by Kala Ramesh, Sanjuktaa Asopa & Shloka Shankar)
      (Charlotte Digregorio’s Daily Haiku : July 18, 2017)

      Reply
      • Alan Summers says

        April 16, 2019 at 11:19 am

        spoken al dente…
        the hands of a deaf poet
        make me see
        .
        Alan Summers

        Reply
        • Olivier Schopfer says

          April 16, 2019 at 1:31 pm

          safety instructions
          we all turn a deaf ear
          to the crew’s sign language
          (Failed Haiku, A Journal of English Senryu, Volume 2, Issue 14, February 2017)

          Reply
          • Alan Summers says

            April 16, 2019 at 3:32 pm

            .
            first language languishing under the stars
            .
            Alan Summers

    • Margherita Petriccione says

      April 17, 2019 at 4:09 am

      a scops owl –
      looking for the ring
      of King Solomon

      Reply
  252. Marietta McGregor says

    April 16, 2019 at 7:00 am

    universal
    this semaphore
    of arms

    Reply
    • Robert Kingston says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:08 pm

      turning point-
      the opening and closing
      of the sparrows beak

      Reply
  253. Marion Clarke says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:58 am

    teanga dhúchasach –
    she Googles ‘indigenous language’
    in Gaelic

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:31 pm

      Indigenus indigenous indigenised implicitly indie

      Reply
  254. Lucy Whitehead says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:58 am

    rolling mist –
    no end or beginning
    to the path

    Reply
  255. Nikolay Grankin says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:51 am

    small garden
    on the open book
    a handful of seeds

    Reply
    • Bernadette O'Reilly says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:48 am

      jinny jo seeds blown on the wind

      Reply
  256. Olivier Schopfer says

    April 16, 2019 at 6:30 am

    a seed
    inside the peach stone
    the secret you hide from me

    (Mainichi Haiku Contest 2015, International Section, honorable mention)

    Reply
  257. Lakshmi Iyer says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:56 am

    farmer’s pride-
    sowing the seed
    of his dreams

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 17, 2019 at 12:32 pm

      farmer’s dreams
      sewing the seeds
      into the pride

      Reply
  258. Lakshmi Iyer says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:52 am

    planting the
    seed of patience
    in my life

    Reply
    • pratima balabhadrapathruni says

      April 16, 2019 at 8:15 pm

      weighed down
      by a water drop
      the sapling

      Reply
  259. Adam T. Bogar says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:40 am

    mist–
    shades of nikko firs
    not nikko firs

    Reply
  260. Marta Chocilowska says

    April 16, 2019 at 5:27 am

    rainy season
    in the bride’s bouquet
    a seed sprouts

    Credit: commendation, The Second International Haiku Conference, Cracow, May, 2015

    Reply
    • Adam T. Bogar says

      April 16, 2019 at 5:51 am

      suspense
      the flight
      of the bride’s bouquet

      Reply
    • Marta Chocilowska says

      April 16, 2019 at 7:11 am

      Ooops, please remove my haiku,I misunderstood the subject.

      Reply
      • Barbara A. Taylor says

        April 16, 2019 at 8:46 pm

        centuries lost
        our world laments
        the toppling spire

        Reply
        • Michael Virga says

          April 16, 2019 at 9:17 pm

          Notre Dame
          her steeple engulfed in flames
          Joan of Arc

          Reply
          • Michael Virga says

            April 16, 2019 at 10:50 pm

             
            Notre Dame

            son clocher
            englouti
            en flammes

            Jeanne d’Arc

             
             
             
               

             

             

          • Robert Kingston says

            April 17, 2019 at 3:19 am

            Michael
            Happy IHPD
            Thank you for your comment above.
            Seeing your posts here at first light this morning and above, coupled with other related posts on the wall served to inspire.
            The news reveals that donations for the rebuilding of this magnificent structure has exceeded 750,000,000 euros.
            .
            .

            wren
            out of a stone
            a cathedral

            Christopher Wren, an English architect was instrumental in the creation of 52 churches following the great fire of London.circa1666.

          • Michael Virga says

            April 17, 2019 at 4:59 am

             
            rising from the east wing
            of the stone cathedral
            a wren

            *
            *
            *
            Michael

            *
            *
            *

      • Karen Harvey AKA Port on the Beach says

        April 18, 2019 at 7:33 am

        snapshot
        this day captured
        in words

        Reply

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