Featured Poet – Fay Aoyagi
simmering tofu —
father asks me where I intend
to be buried
Independence Day
I let him touch
a little bit of me
hint of autumn
I rewind
a Kurosawa film
a hole in my sweater
I ask him one more time
what he meant
Hiroshima Day —
is my shadow
still attached to me?
Fay Aoyagi, originally from Tokyo, lives in San Francisco where she found love in English-language haiku. She has published three books, Chrysanthemum Love, In Borrowed Shoes and Beyond the Reach of My Chopsticks. She was a former President of the Haiku Society of America and has been the Assistant Editor of The Heron’s Nest since 2013. She uploads daily haiku translations of contemporary Japanese haiku on her blog, Blue Willow Haiku World.
fairy house trail
pretending
I’ve lost my way
– Kristen Lindquist
wnidflwoers
– Mariel Herbert
turf cottage
the flowery scent
of a tourist
– Roberta Beary
jigsaw whimsies
the missing pieces
of my heart
– Cynthia Anderson
not just one apple
but whole orchards —
temptation
– Bonnie J Scherer
shooting star …
I wish for another
shooting star
– Daipayan Nair
breastfeeding campaign —
a childless mother
looks on
– Ram Chandran
her obituary —
the moon somewhere
in a moonless sky
– Alvin B. Cruz
cottonwood cotton
the bagman’s cart
fills with empties
– Nika
casting a long shadow
over the crowd below
church spire
– Michael Buckingham Gray
rinse and spin
this struggle to do
nothing
– Ravi Kiran
oyster moon
half shells tossed back
to the sea
– Bryan Rickert
thunder clouds
more talk of war
than of peace
– Meera Rehm
between two breaths the white-noised lull
– Jim Kacian
winter solstice
both hands cupping
a bowl of soup
– Brad Bennett
deer and i —
the watcher
and the watched
– David Kāwika Eyre
moon orchid
a single bud
is enough
– Joanna Ashwell
white dahlia
mother recalls
the birth day
– Richa Sharma
wedding stars …
the first fireflies
of summer
– Laurie D. Morrissey
breaking clouds …
across the neighbor’s yard
a scattering of bluebells
– Jay Friedenberg
moonflowers …
waiting for a falling star
to wish upon
– Stephenie Story
forced cheer
of the beggar
labor day
– John Pappas
sweltering heat
I drag my shadow
into the shade
– Nika
windy city
off-key saxophone
grating the night
– Elena Malec
summer morning
a street woman washes her naked body
in the privacy of an ATM
– Robert Hirschfield
first star
a coin clinks
in a vagrant’s cup
– Richard L Matta
midnight blues
performing a solo act
in the shower
– Chris Langer
so many ways
to become lost
forget-me-not
– C.X.Turner
a small cabin
my bunk taken
by the moon
– Dan Schwerin
back to work empty chairs at empty tables
– Sherry Grant
moonlit sky
a fisherman catches
his own shadow
– Agus Maulana Sunjaya
the cliff’s edge …
alone
with the sunset
– Chen-ou Liu
Italian cafe
knowing all the customers …
by nickname
– Marita Gargiulo
supermoon
two weeks
overdue
– P. H. Fischer
autumn dusk
white cobwebs lace
the witch’s hair
– Christina Chin
end of summer
catching a frisbee
on top of my head
– Goran Gatalica
date night sleeping through another movie
– Sherry Grant
used bookstore
the creases
in an old man
– Tyler McIntosh
fangirling
father´s dementia
getting worse
– Deborah Karl-Brandt
walking behind
the mobility scooter
his thai bride
– Steve Black
slightly tarnished
the mirror reflecting
smoker’s teeth
– Mike Gallagher
old potatoes:
he stands naked
while she inspects
his moles
– Kimberly Kuchar
broken pail still holding grudges
– Vandana Parashar
reflecting blue light
the fish are biting
clickbait
– petro c. k.
snow globe
the same old snow
job
– Jim Kacian
father’s old belt the length of my scar
– Alvin B. Cruz
first frost
i take my blues neat
by the fire
– Steve Black
reel time
the angler becomes
a philosopher
– Pat Davis
pencil shavings …
the scent
of imagination
– Jo Balistreri
Z-axis …
the other facets
of yesterday’s stars
– Angela Terry
arriving
at the tonal center …
i depart
– Pat Geyer
high school yearbook
so much future
in just one place
– Barrie Levine
hiking through a deep gorge
no haiku
insight
– Marita Gargiulo
butterflies …
two girls flip-flop
through a puddle
– Brad Bennett
Kolkata traffic —
a group of eunuchs sing
to a newborn
– Daipayan Nair
foxglove hoods
the speckled light
in butterfly wings
– Patricia Hawkhead
the bellbird
spreads her wings —
aubade
– Barbara Sabol
hammock suspended
everything
– P. H. Fischer
a new ancestor
behind the old fence —
island burial
– Laurie D. Morrissey
a child’s paper boat
on a river to the sea …
Day of the Dead
– Rebecca Drouilhet
memorial gardens
a scatter of feathers
where the hawk struck
– David J Kelly
war ruins
the pine still scents
my dupattā
– Arvinder Kaur
my mother’s tomb
a seagull’s shadow
over my head
– Noel King
catheter’s green cap
i have stopped
waiting for spring
– Robert Hirschfield
’tis the season —
archers harvesting
white-tailed deer
– Ruth Holzer
spring equinox
the Green Line inbound
running behind
– Kristen Lindquist
hourly
inventory
another
three
species
deficit
– Julie Schwerin
razed for condos
still the sign says
white oaks lane
– John Pappas
tightening my rust belt climate change
– Marilyn Ashbaugh
dog days
coyote shits
in the dust bath
– Jeff Hoagland
Oktoberfest
a boot of beer
kicks my butt
– Bryan Rickert
years since the big bang
the number
to call for a good time
– Mike White
deep in a mudflat
I feel the urge
to squirt
– Victor Ortiz
booty call
i tell him she doesn’t
live here anymore
– Steve Black
radiation exposure
To Go Bag
CBD gummies
– Caroline Giles Banks
september sky
a shade of summer promise
unfulfilled
– Keiko Izawa
oak leaves
scattered on the porch
yesterday’s quarrel
– Theresa A. Cancro
autumn begins
the shadow of a cloud
on a cloud
– Daniela Misso
aging house
every night at the same time
the same creaks
– Cynthia Anderson
harvest moon
the unfinished letter
of a country soldier
– Mircea Moldovan
summer’s end
the ruffled pages
of a romance
– Jennifer Hambrick
squid
ah! to have three hearts
broken
– Vandana Parashar
in love with the wrong man
vinca blooms
in autumn
– Polona Oblak
unripe plums
not ready to say
goodbye
– Christine Eales
dust motes
in a slant of moonlight …
unfolding love notes
– Chen-ou Liu
luggage for the trip back
the color melts out of
the snow
– Gary Hotham
that name
doesn’t escape my lips …
snowy mountain
– Richa Sharma
barbed wire fence —
woolen gloves
for two left hands
– Ruth Holzer
sirens
on the warped footpath
a broken doll
– Mark Miller
winter trees
our rich neighbour
a little closer
– Meera Rehm
blue hour moon
you’ve been talking
in your sleep again
– Veronika Zora Novak
autumn dusk
a spider weaves
a Bagua map
– John Zheng
a monarch
like no other
off to distant lands
– Bonnie J Scherer
falling leaves …
each song played
in a different key
– Angela Terry
ginko walk
both squirrel and I
are foragers
– sanjuktaa asopa
what was his birthday
the first leaves of autumn
poised to fall
– Craig Kittner
across the screen
a Huntsman spider scales
the word killed
– Barbara A. Taylor
New Year’s Ball
the widow flaunts
her tiger tights
– Nika
game over
in Deathtrap Dungeon —
memory card malfunction
– Ian Gwin
pictionary
questioning the years
in art class
– Vidhi Ashar
peace summit
at the opposite ends of the couch
me and my wife
– Mirela Brăilean
sunny side up:
the spinster
fries two eggs
– Neena Singh
heirloom daffodils
the lifetimes
I’ve lived
– Pat Davis
no regrets
trampling my shadow
at every step
– Carmela Marino
blue butterfly
the years from six
to sixty
– Roberta Beary
everything
falling into place
autumn leaves
– Alvin B. Cruz
wind chimes
i used to sing
too
– Christine Eales
revolving door
life situations that never
get resolved
– Mona Bedi
autumn equinox
I’m not ready
to get old
– Carmela Marino
dry river
she wonders what her children
would have looked like
– John Hawkhead
birdsong at dusk
simply nothing
left to say
– Tony Williams
grits and baked beans
daddy at the barbeque
soft-singing gospel
– Jo Balistreri
her 10-year old
disappears again
headstone lichen
– Lorraine A Padden
silence
over the holidays
kin tsugi
– Mariel Herbert
netted melon
my son asks
for smiles
– Joshua St. Claire
diamond anniversary
his cane leaning
on her cane
– Rebecca Drouilhet
another slow day …
the promise
of mountain laurel
– Kathryn Liebowitz
hospital waiting room
the view after
the same views
– Gary Hotham
dandelion fluff
yesterday’s wish
today a prayer
– Lorelyn De la Cruz Arevalo
the alley cat
swats falling leaves —
retirement blues
– Neena Singh
Morning shave —
how long before I lose
my edge?
– M.R. Pelletier
full lobby
the corona virus waiting
for the elevator
– Maya Daneva
smoke screen
the stories we tell
around the fire
– Barbara Sabol
all that remains
us in separation
ink
– Joanna Ashwell
varnishing her nails
she asks if I recognise
the dead part in me
– John Hawkhead
thistle seed
so much
for making plans
– Tony Williams
morning star
all the things
i would say to you
– Maria Concetta Conti
ice storm
the paper airplane
grounded
– petro c. k.
Saturday
ready to be up
to nothing
– Roberta Beach Jacobson
summer heat
mission groundskeeper
sweeping the shade
– Lee Hudspeth
spring dresses
the breakneck speed
of mom’s Singer
– Barrie Levine
a transparent fly
in morning light
I practise mime
– Annie Bachini
trying to write
my father’s obituary
katydids
– Mark Forrester
winter train tracks
my earlobe stuck
to the sound
– Richard L Matta
North Rim helicopters
the steadfast silence
of a bristlecone pine
– Lorraine A Padden
end of fasting —
my nephew with a tiger mask
roaring
– Hassane Zemmouri
temple bells
gazing into the idol’s eyes
to feel heard
– Vidhi Ashar
losing our way
a tiny tag
on the monarch’s wing
– Julie Schwerin
a tiding of magpies
fallow fields seeded
by the wind
– Debbie Strange
parkinson’s
a bicycle sways
on ceiling hooks
– Roberta Beary
rough seas
defying the wind
I head to the pub
– Neal Whitman
summer clouds
I drift away
from myself
– Victor Ortiz
Haiga – Mona Bedi
