Featured Poet – Ravi Kiran
the walking stick
stops for a while
cherry blossoms
scented candle
the way she speaks
without words
lost in the rain
the line between
sea and sky
punctuating
the silence …
woodpecker
long walk home
the rhythm
of small change
Ravi Kiran is a late blooming haiku poet and a working professional. He lives in Hyderabad, India. His haiku have won International contests and are also featured in leading haiku journals. He is the editor of Leaf haiku journal and the web-editor of haikuKATHA. He has two published books – empty wallet and seasoned with salt.
silence falls
between our sentences
autumn night
– Noriko Morishita
golden hour
dragonflies give way
to fireflies
– Jagajit Salam
summer night concert —
leaves begin to flutter
as the woodwinds pick up
– Scott Mason
moonlight
leaking through pines
scented rain
– Robert Witmer
zazen dōjō
the monk’s old stick
straight
– Keiko Izawa
without fanfare
daylight leading us
into night
– Gary Hotham
after the rain
a deep breath
of rainbow
– Pat Davis
stillness —
in the field of waving grass
an ogham stone
– Nick Hoffman
soft rain
the quiet steps
of bare feet
– Anne Fox
no matter
what the mood —
earth scent
– Rupa Anand
me
out of the bar
out of myself
– Mykel Board
evening wine
tilting the picture frame
back to level
– Bob Stewart
waning moonrise
grandpa Stretches
a txakoli pour
– Archie G. Carlos
downtown train
a battered copy of
the drunken boat
– John Pappas
fermented berries
falling off the branch
a half song
– petro c. k.
hot & humid
the swallowtail does
the butterfly
– Brad Bennett
saguaro skeleton
cactus wren
gives it voice
– Chuck Lathrop
thin ice
a crow’s beak
releases the moon
– Jacek Margolak
moonlit beach
whale bones
whiter still
– Ravi Kiran
melting in the sun
a waxwing
drunk on berries
– Sean Murphy
doomscrolling
outside my window
a crow commotion
– Louise Hopewell
autumn storm
what’s left
of the scarecrow’s coat
– Jay Friedenberg
one of us
will make it today
mayfly
– Vandana Parashar
losing his head
in the storm
the garden scarecrow
– Katie Montagna
end of the line period
– Al Williams
driving me
up the wall
wisteria
– thomas david
stinkhorn toadstool
my lover wants his own
bit of the garden
– Patricia Hawkhead
neigh bbor’s baskk
etball bounc ing my eyes
a cross the pppage
– Susanna Rich
garden party
a whiff
of the portapotty
– Susan Yavaniski
crackling logs
all the news
that’s fit to skip
– Laurie D. Morrissey
long haul rig —
on the journey
a highway of stars
– Lorraine Haig
moonlit raindrops
a galaxy of stars
on the wild roses
– Hifsa Ashraf
my GPS
refreshing
lilac scent
– Scott Mason
sunshower …
yellow star-grass
in bloom
– Hannah Mahoney
summer night
heavy with stars
jasmine vines
– Gavin Austin
maple canopy
sunlight cuts
the campfire smoke
– Dennis Owen Frohlich
folded wheelchair
in the hall closet
our neighbors coming and going
– Matt Beck
golden hour —
a lama waits his turn
at a pani puri cart
– Vishal Prabhu
park ginko
a roller skater weaves
between poets
– Thomas Powell
porch lantern
folding the way
back indoors
– Joanna Ashwell
jumping queues
at the Hanuman temple
monkeys
– Dhrupad Karwa
abandoned glove —
a field mouse
renting the thumb
– Thomas L. Vaultonburg
a caterpillar
across my notebook
in cursive
– Agnes Eva Savich
baby turtles
the rickracked path
to freedom
– Debbie Strange
shaking their maracas
in the jacarandas
— cicadas
– kei andersen
autumn gathering
a punctured leaf
caught in the tine
– Kelly Sargent
lonesome blues —
one cold hand
holding my other
– kei andersen
bats flying
against the indigo sky —
autumn twilight
– Nancy Brady
in a blue mood
remembering us
lute suite
– Ruth Holzer
reheated tea …
something lost
in translation
– Angela Terry
winter dieback
torchlight wavers
over the towpath
– Erica Ison
dry season —
your phantom latch
clings to my bosom
– Rowan Beckett Minor
alone in wanting
to be alone
the wood thrush
– Kathryn Liebowitz
oil-slicked bramble —
a doe nurses her fawn
for the last time
– Ally Sparham
low-hanging clouds
the sky
just out of reach
– Sarah Lawhorne
silent prayer —
the growth of lotuses
in Bodh Gaya
– Goran Gatalica
ordinary time …
a snow cap
for the hornet’s nest
– Julie Schwerin
dusty telescope …
I haven’t searched for heaven
in a long time
– Jared Frank
notes in the margin
of his old Bible —
hunger moon
– Alvin B. Cruz
morning birdsong
breadcrumbs for three
buddhas
– Stephanie Zepherelli
pine needles
coated in frozen rain
why didn’t she tell me
– Lee Hudspeth
an accident
of juxtaposition —
you and me
– Sondra J. Byrnes
our shadows mix
rain drops remaining
uncounted
– Gary Hotham
birch tree rings …
the ghost of a marriage
on her finger
– Jacob D. Salzer
blizzard warning —
our last conversation
lost in the white
– Nicholas Gentile
Lovers Walk …
a path
of withered twigs
– Thomas Landgraf
strawberry moon
playing the B-side
again
– Martina Matijević
meek neighbor …
her boyfriend moves in
with his macaw
– Charlotte Digregorio
second chances
planting trees
in wildfire soil
– Stephen C. Curro
table for one
at the round-the-clock diner
cold moon
– Sarah E. Metzler
out of character
my daughter smiles at me
on stage
– James Schlett
the harrowing adventure
of creek crossing
first bifocals
– Bryan Rickert
procrastination —
my best decision
to date
– Michael Henry Lee
retirees’ ball
my legs just won’t
cooperate
– Mariola Grabowska
Belmont Stakes
he ponies up
his paycheck
– Suzanne Leaf-Brock
wolfbane
turning my attention
outside
– Jamie Wimberly
Perseids
releasing the coyote
in me
– Jeff Hoagland
smoldering
the side glances
of kohl-lined eyes
– Christine Wenk-Harrison
holiday sweets
I shape her dough
to fit my mouth
– Jon Petruschke
urgent kisses
in the taxi ride home
the meter runs over
– John Hawkhead
coffee cup
sunup nudges
the kitchen clock
– Steve Bahr
a sweet kiss —
my half
of the strawberry
– Tony Williams
jasmine scent
on the wind
a wake-up call
– Kala Ramesh
sultry afternoon
our naughty
chocolate fingers
– Frank Hooven
café au lait —
his fingers linger
on her age spots
– Mona Bedi
snuggled up
in a favorite sweater
moths
– Carolyn Hall
snowflakes aloft
mom’s two-finger whistle
for a yellow cab
– Randy Brooks
discount bread store
the quick look
for no one I know
– Frank Higgins
new neighbour
time to update
the pronoun
– Meera Rehm
resting on the garden wall
a butterfly
that looks like an inkblot
– Rick Jackofsky
stargazing
our son leaves us
Jupiter
– Biswajit Mishra
close to midnight
the anglepoise positioned
ready to leap
– Annie Bachini
meteor shower
the piñata spilling
candy
– Sharon Martina
frost night
the watchman stares up
at passing geese
– Tom Zille
pink moon —
touching the faux pearls
at her throat
– Jo McInerney
early morning email
pileated woodpeckers’
call and response
– Barbara Feehrer
penny whistling
along the shore
a murmuration of starlings
– Jenny Fraser
in hospice
her vow of silence
unbroken
– Pat Davis
sounding its way
down the stream
foxglove bell
– Owen Bullock
high arches
the echoes of my heels
in the cathedral
– Patricia Hawkhead
Zen meditation room
the sound of one stomach
growling
– Mykel Board
hunter’s moon
tracking
my calories
– Gordon Brown
grandpa’s snuff box —
a sneeze caught
in the hinges
– Vaishnavi Ramaswamy
hot summer night
the dog fart takes up
residence
– Lev Hart
shuddering breaths
the dialect of sleep
in hospice
– Bonnie J Scherer
that Japanese maple
has heard a poem or two …
autumn mist
– Kristen Lindquist
gerrymandered speech
not matching your leaves
and roots
– Dan Schwerin
meeting my parents
she talks to the cat
in her native tongue
– Tom Zille
crematorium
the old extractor fan
takes our breath away
– John Hawkhead
half-asleep
behind the wheel
midday moon
– Susan Yavaniski
morning paddle
we spook a cormorant
over and over
– Nancy Orr
driftwood
the hitchhiker seeks a place
to call home
– Monty Milne
the sanderlings
stay one step ahead
seventh wave
– Helen Ogden
morning fog
traffic lights change
for no one
– Eraldo Banovac
retro arcade
the chime of coins
in my pocket
– Farah Ali
goalie camp
my brother comes back
a boxer
– Ollie Surber
holiday call
my deep-voiced nephew’s
monosyllables
– Evan Vandermeer
summer’s end
the next-door-kid stops
sharing soap bubbles
– Padma Thampatty
takeout window
the drive-thru guy and me
exchange college jokes
– Anthony Lusardi
crumbling
the fourth wall
sing-along
– Carla Schwartz
beggar’s cup
a few coins
call out
– Rita Gray
early dawn
a jazz revival
in full swing
– Jennifer Sutherland
wind chimes —
under Chekhov’s picture
a double bass
– Mircea Moldovan
crow moon the hunter’s dreams filled with caws
– Marilyn Humbert
spring walk
were these forget-me-nots
here last year?
– Sam Cassidy
his death …
a sympathy card
sent to no one
– Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
hospice garden
the butterfly takes
its time
– David Liu
cut flowers
on the tv console
his days of absence
– Matt Beck
first snow
prayer flags flutter
white mantras
– Neena Singh
catch-all drawer
a monopoly
of board game pieces
– Millicent Bee
the first to turn in
for winter
compass plant
– Kathryn Haydon
a haircut
on the patio
the snow almost gone
– Shawn Blair
from potter’s shelf
to writer’s desk
a bowl and its dust
– Scott Wiggerman
still on the windscreen
raindrops beyond
the wiper’s reach
– Ravi Kiran
forest tryst
moss-covered limbs
hold their poses
– Kristen Lindquist
the groove
where my glasses sit
deep autumn
– Marietta McGregor
family visit
I know exactly
what not to touch
– Nalini Shetty
first morels
encrypting
my password
– Eric Sundquist
foggy mirror
trying to count
my new white hairs
– Mike Fainzilber
honoring the dead
i eat
my peas
– Julie Schwerin
a fly’s scratch
between the window panes —
clinic twilight
– Chen-ou Liu
a single poached egg
the morning after
her mastectomy
– Adele Evershed
coloring session
a patient shows me
her monotone castle
– Tuyet Van Do
GLP-1
microdosing
my infidelities
– Marilyn Ashbaugh
Broom scent —
a fly tapping lightly
on the half‑open window
– Françoise Maurice
interview prep —
answering questions
the mirror asks
– Bhawana Rathore
teacup
shattering in a single gesture
my own self
– Carmela Marino
star shine
how much of my life
is living in the past
– Bryan Rickert
looking for myself
in my father’s portrait
early dusk
– John Pappas
age spots
I apply my face cream
with my mother’s hands
– Morag Elizabeth Humble
first year’s mind
the evening ends
with a light shower
– David J Kelly
old men’s faces
in the autumn field
deep furrows
– Artur Zieliński
class break
the Brownian motion
in the schoolyard
– Mona Iordan
history museum
the ticket clerk asks
if we’re seniors
– G.R. LeBlanc
candlelight vigil
another student
by his own hand
– Kevin Valentine
Marianne Paul, Haiga
