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A Sense of Place: HIKING TRAIL – touch

 

 

A Sense of Place

In his essay ‘So:ba’, given at the International Haiku Conference (SUNY Plattsburgh, NY, 2008) and published serially in Frogpond, Jim Kacian discusses the concept of ba:

“If you look up ba in any Japanese-English Dictionary you’ll find it means “place” or “site” or “occasion”. And these are all true in the most general sense—ba is a pointer to a kind of awareness that something of importance is happening in time and space.”

So here we are…

In the following weeks we will get back to haiku basics and explore specific locations with an emphasis on the senses, and with the intention of improving our own haiku practice. Ideally, participants will select an actual location that they can visit, or a location from memory that they have visited in the past. Failing that, we always have our imaginations – and you’re invited to join in the fun! Submit an original unpublished poem (or poems) via our Contact Form by Sunday midnight on the theme of the week, including your name as you would like it to appear, and place of residence. I will select from these for the column, and add commentary.

 

next week’s theme:  CITY SIDEWALK – sight

We move from a hiking trail to the sidewalk of any city – if possible, I hope you can get out for a walk, and can actually look around, but failing that, we have our memories and our imaginations… what do you see? The deadline for this theme is midnight Pacific Time, Sunday 25 November 2018.

I look forward to reading your submissions.

 

A Sense of Place:  HIKING TRAIL – touch

The sense of touch is one of the more difficult senses to emphasize in haiku, and the following poems each take the sense of touch, and the reader, in a different direction… enjoy!

warm spring water
holding her hair
away from her face

Mark Gilbert
UK

 

nature walk…
he steadies me
on the stepping stones

Michele L. Harvey

 

backcountry trail
how rough
the cow’s tongue

Olivier Schopfer
Geneva, Switzerland

 

morning hike
the dog’s
wet muzzle

Radostina Dragostinova

 

some smooth
stones in my pocket
afternoon hike

Rehn Kovacic

 

after a kiss
on the hiking trail
still a frog

Roberta Beary
County Mayo, Ireland

 

tree root
the forest floor
greets me

Tia Haynes
Lakewood, Ohio, USA

 

Here are the rest of my selections for this week:

haiku hike
the gentle graze
of mountain wind

Adjei Agyei-Baah
Kumasi, Ghana

 

railroad track my boyhood’s coin

Adrian Bouter

 

mountain trail
the touch of
firefly on my fingertip

Agus Maulana Sunjaya

 

an old man
rests on a trailside rock
swatting biting gnats

Al Gallia
Lafayette, Louisiana USA

 

sunflower forest
undulating the boy
and a dog

Alan Summers
Wiltshire, England

 

zaino in spalla –
sopra il caldo sudore
la pioggia fredda

backpacker –
over the hot sweat
the cold rain

Angela Giordano

 

wet path –
the warmth of an old cardigan
on the shoulders

Angiola Inglese

 

one potsherd
sun-warmed and smooth
ruins trail

Ann K. Schwader

 

thunderclap –
the first raindrops
on my lashes

Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo

 

Foggy hiking trail…
This hand, in my hand,
Is it still yours?!

Anna Victoria Goluba

 

hiking together –
going past him
our shadows touch

arvinder kaur
Chandigarh, India

 

fog on our skin
we clear the trail
for the hiker behind

Astrid Egger

 

first hike
his tone of voice
raises goosebumps

Barbara Kaufmann
NY

 

high noon
the warmth of the sun
on my face

Barbara Tate
Winchester, TN

 

in and out
of summer sunbeams –
hiking path

Beki Reese

 

trail summit
a blanket
of morning mist

Bona M. Santos
Los Angeles, CA

 

sitting in a circle
of bone cold benches
one of us lights a fire

Carmen Sterba

 

beyond the rylock        freedom

Carol Jones

 

peak experience
touching heaven for an hour
before the descent

Charles Harmon
City of Burning Angeles, California, USA

 

creek crossing
soft cushion saddles
the elephant carrier

Christina Chin
Kuching, Sarawak

 

my arms around
the scratchy bark
a tree’s weathered love

Christina Pecoraro

 

the warmth
of my daughter’s hand
new hiking trail

Christina Sng

 

thoughts of dad
along the trail
I hug a redwood

Claire Vogel Camargo

 

tracing scars
for my lost memories
tumbledown hike

David Gale
Gloucester, UK

 

a henro* hike
wears down my body
yet lifts my soul

(*henro is 800 mile 88 temple pilgrimage in Japan. By the way, I never finished it.)

Dean Okamura

 

hiking trail
on steep rocks
the warmth of sun

Debbi Antebi
London, UK

 

walking sticks
the earth’s pulse
in my hands

Debbie Strange
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada

 

a slap in the face
from oak branches
unmaintained trail

Deborah P Kolodji
Temple City, California

 

tiny horseshoe crabs
in small pools at bay trail’s end
one tickles my palm

dianne moritz

 

one and only nail
it found the way
to my sole

Dubravka Šcukanec
Zagreb, Croatia

 

dancing in the wind
caresses of the grass
on my bare legs

Elisa Allo
Zug, Switzerland

 

Way of St. James –
I shake a little stone
out of my shoe

Eva Limbach
Germany

 

urban park hike
the cold shoulder I get
bumping into coats

Fractled

 

Sunday hike
a granite seat tempts me
into its shade

Garry Eaton

 

tree rings
feeling each
year

Gary Evans
Stanwood, Washington

 

freddo sentiero:
la sciarpa di mamma così vicino

cold path:
the mother’s scarf so close

Giuliana Ravaglia

 

napping on a trailside bench
the line between
sightseeing and hiking

Greer Woodward
Waimea, HI

 

hiking trail
touching
memories

Guliz Mutlu

 

North York Moors storm
the warmth of the sweater
the farmer insists I take

Helen Buckingham

 

wayside chapel
I feel the cold
of the old key

Helga Stania
Switzerland

 

hillside hiking
the soft touch
of floating clouds

Hifsa Ashraf
Rawalpindi, Pakistan

 

achingly cold
pure spring water tumbles
beside our trail

Ingrid Baluchi
memories of living in Iran

 

worn soles
on a rocky descent
prayer grips each rock

janice munro
Canada

 

misty hike
I pull a yellow leaf
off my walking stick

John S Green
Bellingham, WA

 

touchstone
the sun in my pocket
after our walk

Kath Abela Wilson
Pasadena, California

 

gripping hiking poles
gives me confidence
to finish trail

Kathleen Mazurowski

 

my third leg
sturdiest of all
– new walking stick

Kimberly Esser
Los Angeles, CA

 

Lookout point
His hand brushes my cheek
Darkness encroaches

Kimberly Spring
Lakewood, Ohio

 

hiking home
the feeling
I’m already there

Laurie Greer
Washington, DC

 

fluffy hug
of a woolen jacket…
winter sea

soffice abbraccio / di una giacca di lana … mare d’inverno

Lucia Cardillo

 

a spray of sea pinks
over the cliff path
ocean mist

Lucy Whitehead
Essex, UK

 

touching base
with myself
creek walk

Madhuri Pillai

 

I wake from a dream
sweating in my sleeping bag
a bear had touched me

Marcyn Del Clements
Claremont, California, USA

 

gentle nudges
the old hound
pushes me home

Margaret Walker
Lincoln, NE, USA

 

the slap of her hand
on the back of her neck
mosquito

Margo Williams
Stayton, Oregon

 

snowy trail –
your warm breath
on my hands

Maria Teresa Piras

 

light air –
I feel the first snowflakes
touch my boots

Maria Teresa Sisti

 

mullein
a pony’s muzzle
on my hand

Martha Magenta
England, UK

 

my pendant
as cold as half moon
over forest

Megumi Shibuya
Japan

 

Asphalt trail –
I feel summer’s heat
through my shoes

michael ceraolo
South Euclid, Ohio

 

Salisbury Pass
a prickly pear where
i need to go

Michael Henry Lee

 

looking good
on the hiking trail –
touch of mascara

Michael H. Lester
Los Angeles CA USA

 

off track
in a nettle patch
the stinging rain

Mike Gallagher
Kerry, Ireland

 

our arrival
at the finishing line
we hug each other

Mohammad Azim Khan

 

an old painting…
drying the mountains
I carried in dreams

Muskaan Ahuja
Chandigarh, India

 

leaves of three
he grabs
the wrong handhold

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio

 

prickly thistles –
the old lovers
hold hands

Nazarena Rampini
Italy

 

hill hike
the smell of wildflowers
from mother’s touch

Neni Rusliana

 

ready to hike
the tap of our canes
on the trail head sign

Pat Davis
Pembroke, NH  USA

 

rogue trail
developing a touch
for the unknown

Peter Jastermsky

 

birder’s notebook
the scratch of a quill
from her pillow

Philip Whitley
SC, USA

 

shortcut through a thicket
the many ways
I am touched

Polona Oblak
Ljubljana, Slovenia

 

trail mix tossing the brown ones

Pris Campbell

 

snowy trail
melting winter
on my skin

Rachel Sutcliffe

 

trail of wilderness
the unreachable
touch of serene

Radhamani  sarma
Chennai

 

leaning into the wind into her heart geraniums

Réka Nyitrai

 

a quilt of fallen leaves…
I caress the path
with my feet

Richard Grahn

 

bridge of sighs –
a watery moon trailing
the blues

robyn brooks
usa

 

O’Bannon Creek
stepping stone to stone
cell phone vibrations

Ronald K. Craig
Batavia, OH  USA

 

on “u mungibeddu”*
birch leaves in my hands

(*“Mungibeddu” is the name of Mount Etna in Sicilian dialect)

Rosa Maria Di Salvatore

 

on the winding trail
my son and I stop to smooth
the furrowed tree bark

Sari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY

 

trail to our house
tall grass
clings to legs

Serhiy Shpychenko
Kyiv, UA

 

almost new moon…
another sliver from
my walking stick

Sidney Bending

 

the high street
retreat of eagles
north wind

(high street roman road)

simonj
UK

 

gravel path –
a small stone jumped
in my shoe

Slobodan Pupovac
Zagreb, Croatia

 

off the beaten path
her touch I remember most
wildflowers

Stephen A. Peters

 

family hike
the growing chill
in a wrong turn

Susan Mallernee

 

sharper
than the baby imagined
pinecone

Susan Rogers
Los Angeles, CA, USA

 

throwing a pebble
into the mountain lake –
circles of autumn sky

Tomislav Maretic

 

a wooden bridge
a carpet of fallen leaves
I step softly

Tomoko Nakata
Japan

 

hiking coffee…
rock is so cold
for seating

Tsanka Shishkova

 

perspiring…
on the return path
a snake

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
Fairlawn, Ohio USA

 

hiking trip
I get engulfed
by the fog rolling in

Vandana Parashar

 

touch of Alpine air
my breath leaves its own trail
on my beard

Vishnu Kapoor

 

Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada and an Associate Member of the League of Canadian Poets. She recently co-edited an anthology of crime-themed haiku called Body of Evidence: a collection of killer ’ku.

 

This Post Has 93 Comments

  1. I am overwhelmed by the number of comments here today… so thanks to all the poets who submit their poems in the first place, & also those who have shared their comments here… this is the kind of dialogue that I am hoping will continue in 2019 because we all learn so much from this sharing of ideas…
    Special thanks, of course, to Alan Summers… as always!

  2. Though hiking is often a refreshing experience, these haiku show a downside: being slapped by a branch or a mosquito. Or the feel of achingly cold water or stinging rain. I could imagine having the same experience.
    .
    a slap in the face
    from oak branches
    unmaintained trail
    .
    Deborah P Kolodji
    Temple City, California
    .
    the slap of her hand
    on the back of her neck
    mosquito
    .
    Margo Williams
    Stayton, Oregon
    .
    achingly cold
    pure spring water tumbles
    beside our trail
    .
    Ingrid Baluchi
    memories of living in Iran
    .
    off track
    in a nettle patch
    the stinging rain
    .
    Mike Gallagher
    Kerry, Ireland

  3. .
    I do love one line haiku that have a certain rhythm, like this one:
    .
    .
    leaning into the wind into her heart geraniums
    .
    Réka Nyitrai
    .
    .
    The repetition of ‘into’ is highly effective and emotive. A stunning example of the one-line approach here. 🙂

  4. My city sidewalk haiku:

    I am not sure where to submit. Can you please direct me to the proper channels. Here are three.

    weeds
    growing through sidewalks cracks
    reach for sky

    step on a crack
    break your mother’s back
    sidewalk games

    sidewalk cafe
    summer nights in Zurich
    time flies, memories stay

    1. Genie,
      Glad you will have a go! 🙂
      .
      If you are using a smartphone or other small device you may not see the live web link, so just go top right of this page where it says Contact and click onto that which will take you here anyway:
      https://www.thehaikufoundation.org/contact/
      .
      And put CITY SIDEWALK – sight to help the contact sorter (might be Dave and not just KJ).
      .
      .
      Kathy says:
      .
      “Submit an original unpublished poem (or poems) via our Contact Form by Sunday midnight on the theme of the week, including your name as you would like it to appear, and place of residence. I will select from these for the column, and add commentary.”
      .
      Good luck! 🙂

  5. Thanks KJ for choosing one of mine. I think I would highlight Helga Stania’s which sent a chill through me –
    *
    wayside chapel
    I feel the cold
    of the old key

    1. Excellent use of ‘cold’ and ‘old’ which can fall into being tropes, especially ‘old’ but is authentic and adds to the tension. ‘Wayside chapel’ is intriguing when looked up on the internet.
      .
      .

      warm spring water
      holding her hair
      away from her face
      .
      Mark Gilbert
      UK
      .
      .
      I immediately thought of someone being violently sick. I certainly hope that wasn’t the case, but overexertion on a walk can do that, not just nightclubbing on over cheap cocktails.
      .
      I’m hoping it’s just a High Summer overnight camping and thankfully the spring water is warm, maybe from a thermal? Whenever I’ve washed in fresh water it was close to being ice, even in Queensland! 🙂
      .
      An interesting technique of alliteration in lines one and two, and the first line’s alliteration subtly carried over into the last line.

        1. Yes, agreed.
          .
          It’s just that we’ve seen this so often in TV drama and movies:
          .
          “holding her hair away from her face”
          .
          Or when we used to do heavy nightclubbing, starting with pubs and even more than one club after. 😉
          .
          It’d be interesting who among us has helped a colleague not get her hair messy in the restroom.

          1. I read it as someone being ill. That the hike was just too much, overheating, dehydration, etc. It could also be tenderness. Ah, the fun of interpreting haiku.

    1. I must admit the snakes who had to put up with me in Australia were very forgiving and patient. Common Browns and Eastern Browns are repeat strikers, and move as fast as a galloping horse, as one Queenslander tested, just to show me. 🙂
      .
      .
      perspiring…
      on the return path
      a snake
      .
      Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
      Fairlawn, Ohio USA
      .
      .
      So I can relate to this! Even in September when it’s the breeding season, and they are protective, they are not like birds that can chase you for a mile! Phew! 🙂

    1. Ah, yes, all that unknown hard work unless you’ve been involved in a weekly column, editing a collection or an anthology, or other intense poetry projects! Hats, scarves, and booties to Kathy! 🙂
      It’s honestly not as simple as it looks when we click onto the home page image! 🙂
      .
      .
      North York Moors storm
      the warmth of the sweater
      the farmer insists I take
      .
      Helen Buckingham
      .
      .
      I’ve been to Yorkshire a few times, and every other week for a year and a month I was resident renku poet for Hull. I’ve never done the Moors, they do get bad press sadly, but perhaps less so now.
      .
      The generosity of the farmer, and the thoughtfulness to have the sweater already warm, is endearing and respectful of guests and the landscape outside his farm. For some farmers that was no small thing to gift a sweater. I hope you were able to return it at some later date? Perhaps with a wee dram of single malt whisky from “The Spirit of Yorkshire” Distillery in North Yorkshire. 🙂
      .
      Wonderful word choice and order and see you write some longer haiku too! 🙂

      1. Not to mention her fine taste, too! Such an incredible service to the haiku community, Kathy. Thank you! Each week is a lesson.

  6. Thank you Katherine for this wonderful selection and for including mine. So totally enjoy writing and sharing . Thank you Christina for your wonderful and heartening feedback. Thanks to Alan for his comments, a kind of learning process by itself. Look forward to the column each week !

  7. Wednesday, my favourite day of the week to enjoy, share and learn from others.
    Thank you Kathy, and again for including one of mine.

  8. Thank you, Kathy, for weaving together such lovely selections…. poets for your haikus…. and commentators for your take on them.
    .
    This week I was moved by the sensual intimacy in arvinder kaur’s final lines
    .
    going past him
    our shadows touch
    .
    It reminded me of Martin Buber in his classic book, I and Thou, asserting that “(e)xtended, the lines of relationship intersect in the Eternal You.”
    .
    I found that intersecting intimacy again in Christina Sng’s
    .
    the warmth
    of my daughter’s hand
    .
    and in both the “gentle nudges” of Margaret Walker’s “old hound” “(pushing her) home” and Alan Summer’s intriguing
    .
    sunflower forest
    undulating the boy
    and a dog
    .
    Intimacy with earth moved me in Debbie Strange’s haiku
    .
    walking sticks
    the earth’s pulse
    in my hands
    .
    and with oneself in Madhuri Pillai’s deceptively simple
    .
    touching base
    with myself
    creek walk
    .
    There were other lines too that spoke to me of Buber’s wisdom, but I need to stop this already lengthy musing with my deep thanks.

    1. Thanks for your comments! 🙂
      .
      .

      my arms around
      the scratchy bark
      a tree’s weathered love
      .
      Christina Pecoraro

      .
      .
      I loved this line “a tree’s weathered love” which might even tie in with Martin Buber?
      https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_and_Thou
      .
      .
      That’s a really good catch, and your line feels right as well. Trees have witnessed good and bad incidents, people inscribe/carve enduring love, or at least a mark of time relating to themselves. Climbing trees used to be a childhood thing, certainly for me, and our own backyard pear tree that only fruited once, with one pear, which was knocked off by someone else. But I’ve always remembered that tree as a friend, and it was a de facto home or launch pad for adventures.

      1. Alan,
        .
        You are an absolute marvel, and so are your insights.
        .
        As for your haiku, for me a “sunflower forest” lifted them from mere field or expanse into another realm. And your intriguing verb, “undulating,” especially when transferred to ”the boy and a dog,” captured in movement not only their intersecting intimacy with each other —as I said earlier — but with the sunflowers as well. So little says so much!
        .
        sunflower forest
        undulating the boy
        and a dog
        .
        About my own “tree’s weathered love” it came from a three month hermitage experience I had in a cabin in a woods almost 20 years ago. I never considered, as you did, its own possible tie with Buber. Like that a lot.
        .
        Also appreciate the connections you make with your own interactions with trees, said to be earth’s oldest creatures. Alan—big thanks for all.

        1. Thanks Christina! 🙂
          .
          Yes, trees are wonderful. With rainforest deprivation everywhere I loved starting off a new one in Queensland, Australia. It’ll take a thousand or more years to really start to become even slightly old, but I’m glad I did a tiny part.
          .
          Wow, a three month hermitage! Did you do similar to Walden, or a mix of survival skills, and hunting, as well as writing, and perhaps a spiritual retreat. Sounds fantastic. I wish everyone could zone out from the crazy society thing that long for at least once in their lifetime.
          .
          .
          You said:
          .
          “As for your haiku, for me a “sunflower forest” lifted them from mere field or expanse into another realm. And your intriguing verb, “undulating,” especially when transferred to ”the boy and a dog,” captured in movement not only their intersecting intimacy with each other —as I said earlier — but with the sunflowers as well. So little says so much!”
          .
          sunflower forest
          undulating the boy
          and a dog
          .
          Alan Summers
          .
          .
          You are absolutely right. I feel we tread two worlds most of the time: the perceived real world and the echoes of the actual real world, and perhaps aspects of where folklore exists.
          .
          Yes, a young lad, my nephew, the son of a successful inventor and one who sees those other worlds in tandem with everything else. We are all molecules barely separated from each other, flora or fauna.
          .
          At least I want the barriers reduced until I have to come back the world paying bills and taxes. 🙂
          .
          Thank you so much for ‘getting inside’ the haiku, deeply appreciated.

          1. To answer your question, Alan, mine was a sabbatical spiritual retreat. And oh, how I relished 3 months of “zoning out from the crazy society thing” as you so aptly put it.
            .
            Also…this haiku neophyte is humbled by your generous thanks.

    1. my pendant
      as cold as half moon
      over forest
      .
      Megumi Shibuya
      Japan
      .
      Beautifully folklore and magic driven haiku. A great example of when we can leave out an article (a/the) to make it legitimately mystical. Wonderful! 🙂

  9. Another wonderful set of hiking haiku. I love the Sense of Place series, and am looking forward to “City Sidewalks” haiku. I’m glad I didn’t bet on the next theme, I was certain we were going to the desert!

    1. Ouch! 🙂
      .
      .
      a slap in the face
      from oak branches
      unmaintained trail
      .
      Deborah P Kolodji
      Temple City, California
      .
      .
      And sometimes we wouldn’t have it any other way. Too maintained and there’ll be too many groups and loud noise. It’s a shame the local authorities are allowing Robin Hood’s Sherwood Forest to be destroyed in Britain, we don’t seem to like woodland, maybe too many people would thumb their noses at the bad Sheriffs of ‘Nottingham’. 🙂

      1. Ouch, indeed. I thought about “overgrown” trail, but I decided on “unmaintained” due to the cuts in funding for taking care of state parks, national parks, national forests, etc. I remember hiking one trail in particular in the Angeles National Forest – I don’t remember which trail, but I just remember the branches. I was trying to remember what kind of branches and decided on oak branches since there are various types of oaks in our local mountains, but the actual branches of the hike I am remembering could have possibly been from a different tree.

        “Overgrown” has the advantage of some assonance with “oak” and it seems to read smoother, but “unmaintained,” by actually not flowing as well, seems to fit the situation better, or at least those were my thoughts.

        1. Hi Deborah,
          .
          Yes, ‘overgrown’ gives a different nuance doesn’t it? ‘unmaintained’ lets us know it’s a type of public park, whereas overgrown could mean it’s pure wild or private land. There’s a great parcel of land so long abandoned, but owned, that the deserted building, vehicles, etc… have become a wildlife reserve. I forget where in Britain, but it’s the overland version of sunken ships etc… taken over by fish, coral, barnacles, etc…
          .
          Yes, the method of dissonance can work well, as you have it, as it creates a break, even for someone who might insist on reading right through without one. I still remember, in a reading group of multiple genres, one person who ignored the aspects of a title, blank spaces for lines, periods etc… and reading title, prose body, and haiku as one sentence with no pauses or taking breath! 🙂

  10. gravel path –
    a small stone jumped
    in my shoe
    .
    Slobodan Pupovac
    Zagreb, Croatia
    .
    .
    I love those last two lines, and it feels so true, I can relate to that happening!

      1. A fun nickname for Slobodan Pupovac? 🙂
        .
        I remember so many wonderful Croatian haiku poets regularly publishing their work in Azami journal (Japan), setting the bar high for so many of us.

      1. re:
        .
        .
        gravel path –
        a small stone jumped
        in my shoe
        .
        Slobodan Pupovac
        Zagreb, Croatia
        .
        .
        John S Green said:
        .
        .
        “I was wondering if, “jumps” would strengthen the poem.”
        .
        gravel path –
        a small stone jumps
        in my shoe
        .
        .
        Alan:
        .
        For me, that would suggest we see the stone jump into the shoe, both the reader(s) and the poem’s narrator. In my experience we don’t see the stone, it just gets into the shoe, and sometimes the sock, as if by magic or osmosis. 🙂
        .
        I liked the choice of ‘jumped’ because the reader can decide whether they see the action, or the consequences. I’m sure we’ve all had a stone in our shoe. I know if I’m wearing Crocs™ out in our pocket garden they seem to allow just about anything to jump inside, but I never see the blighters. 🙂

  11. touchstone
    the sun in my pocket
    after our walk
    .
    Kath Abela Wilson
    Pasadena, California
    .
    .
    “touchstone” origin:
    .
    “A touchstone is a small tablet of dark stone such as fieldstone, slate, or lydite, used for assaying precious metal alloys. It has a finely grained surface on which soft metals leave a visible trace.”
    WIKIPEDIA
    .
    .
    I like the contrast of a dark stone and the voice of the sun held within it, and all safely ensconced in your pocket!
    .
    Truly magical haiku! 🙂

    1. tree root
      the forest floor
      greets me
      .
      Tia Haynes
      Lakewood, Ohio, USA
      .
      .
      Forest floors is very and deeply poignant just now. This reminds me of how I stay amazed that trees are like inverted roots, one system of roots reaches for the sky, and almost like an iceberg, there is a forest of roots beneath our feet as well.
      .
      Wonderful haiku!

  12. I’m particularly moved by Gary’s:

    tree rings
    feeling each
    year

    Effortlessly gets across the concept of time translated into a tactile experience. Nice humor too. Lord knows I can feel each year sometimes when I’m on a long hike.

    I think this one would work as a monoku as well.

    1. If anyone hasn’t met Gary in person, you must, he’s a great guy!
      .
      .
      tree rings
      feeling each
      year
      .
      Gary Evans
      Stanwood, Washington
      .
      .
      Something so magical about tree rings, whether we see them or we don’t. Great one Gary!!! 🙂

      1. Yes, I can vouch for Gary Evans being a great guy. He is in our Haiku Group here in Bellingham, Washington, and we are lucky indeed.
        .
        tree rings
        feeling each
        year
        .
        Gary Evans
        Stanwood, Washington
        .
        Wonderful! A tactile gem with a playful tone of reminiscing and aging all at the same time.

        1. And your own John! 🙂
          .
          .
          misty hike
          I pull a yellow leaf
          off my walking stick
          .
          John S Green
          Bellingham, WA
          .
          .
          Even leaves will hitch a ride. We can be carriers of burrs and seeds, cobwebs or spiderwebs, a dying wasp, or bee, and a leaf that fell, but not to earth/Earth.

          1. Thanks, Alan.

            Gary and I among many others were recently at the Pacific NW Annual retreat at Seabeck in Washington state. It is situated in a pristine location on the Olympic Peninsula brushing the San Juan Islands. You should visit for the Seabeck retreat next—or be the feature the year after— year!!!
            We could even arrange for you to present one or more times!
            John

          2. Thanks John! 🙂
            .
            re:
            .
            Thanks, Alan.
            Gary and I among many others were recently at the Pacific NW Annual retreat at Seabeck in Washington state. It is situated in a pristine location on the Olympic Peninsula brushing the San Juan Islands. You should visit for the Seabeck retreat next—or be the feature the year after— year!!!
            We could even arrange for you to present one or more times!
            John
            .
            .
            I must admit it does look cool! I’ve followed the photos and program over the years. I’ve been to Seattle, more as a dropping point for Maui (conference). Hadn’t realised how close to Vancouver Island too.
            .
            Perhaps one year, that would be very cool! 🙂

      1. My fingers hit ‘post’ before I was ready!
        Thank you all for the kind comments – as well as for all your haiku that are so inspiring. What a community Katherine has gathered!

  13. thank you so much Katherine for including my haiku in this weekly selection and congratulations to everyone

    1. Oh, gosh, we can so relate regarding the contradictory heat and cold aspects of hiking! 🙂
      .
      .
      backpacker –
      over the hot sweat
      the cold rain
      .
      [English version]
      .
      Angela Giordano
      .
      .
      Great hike-ku! 🙂

    2. Angela, my limited acquaintance with Italian (can read it a bit, speak it even less) makes me long to listen to your wonderful haiku in its soft Italian cadences. /English translation in Alan’s adjacent comment./
      .
      zaino in spalla –/sopra il caldo sudore /la pioggia fredda
      .
      that goes for Giuliana’s lovely haiku too:
      .
      freddo sentiero:/ la sciarpa di mamma così vicino
      cold path:/ the mother’s scarf so close
      .
      and of course, Lucia’s
      .
      soffice abbraccio / di una giacca di lana … mare d’inverno
      fluffy hug/ of a woolen jacket…/winter sea

      Brava to Kathy and the three of you for presenting both versions. I realize it would become too cumbersome to include the several others whose originals are in other languages — and salute them too.

      1. Christina,
        Just want to add that at this time I include all translations that are included in the submission when the poem is selected… thanks for this!

    1. Foggy hiking trail…
      This hand, in my hand,
      Is it still yours?!
      .
      Anna Victoria Goluba
      .
      .
      Like something out of the Walking Dead TV Series! Great combination of tension and humour. 🙂

    1. beyond the rylock freedom
      .
      Carol Jones
      .
      .
      I must admit I wasn’t familiar with that term [rylock] but the product is everywhere isn’t it? Wales is either the biggest or one of the very biggest producers of barbed wire, I wrote a poem about it. 🙂
      .
      This type of fencing, in very early days, was also probably used, when us, the British, allegedly created the idea of concentration camps during the Boer wars, to our eternal shame.

      1. Hi Alan
        Thanks for your comments, they never fail to inspire and send me on a search mission to find out more.
        I didn’t know Wales was a big producer of barbed wire, even though I’ve stapled up quite a bit of the stuff, I’ve learnt.
        When learning about the Boar wars during my school years, I believe the info in your last paragraph was left out of the lessons.
        .
        Writing this verse reminds me of the song, Don’t fence me in — give me land lots of land and the starry sky above…
        lovely words 🙂

        1. Thanks Carol! 🙂
          .
          It’s such a shame that the history in each country removes so many facts and puts in a biased viewpoint. Children all over the world would grow up to be balanced individuals if we had an honest World History Book.
          .
          Yes, lots of fences, barbed wire, walls, and defence mechanisms to keep out most of the world alas. Perhaps if there was a magic spell and all walls ceased to exist, for just an hour, things might get interesting, in a good way. 😉

  14. Dear Kathy,
    Greetings! Thanks for including mine,delighted to be among so many gentle haiku hikes and touches of splashes of spring water. Pleasure reading all and wondering at individual application. Your meticulous choice is amazing.
    with regards
    S.Radhamani

  15. My lovely former oppo Carmen has produced a beautifully tactile sense-full haiku of musicality! 🙂
    .
    .
    sitting in a circle
    of bone cold benches
    one of us lights a fire
    .
    Carmen Sterba
    .
    .
    Full of fun, poetry, touch, and delights! 🙂

  16. .
    gentle nudges
    the old hound
    pushes me home
    .
    Margaret Walker
    Lincoln, NE, USA
    .
    .
    Great opening line, with just enough for the second line, and the glorious last line, making me want to enjoy the first line all over again, and the second line and so on. The verb does feel best in the last line here. Finely judged! 🙂

  17. This is so beautiful, and sad, and poignant, endearing, charming, and delicately beautiful. Did I mention beautiful?
    .
    .
    off the beaten path
    her touch I remember most
    wildflowers
    .
    Stephen A. Peters
    .
    .
    The opening line could have so easily have been a trope, a cliché, but is made fresh and engaging by the excellently judged middle/second line and the one word line ending the haiku. In fact it’s wonderful to read the opening line again after wildflowers. A very circular haiku, which could be first love or love lost, or something else especially precious.
    .
    A truly beautiful haiku, and quite magnificent.

  18. While I have not read them all, I was struck by Astrid’s haiku about clearing the trail of fog for subsequent hikers. I could imagine it all, taken there with just her few words.

    Thanks for including one of mine, Kathy, in this feel good collection of haiku.

    1. I agree, Astrid’s haiku is wonderful! 🙂
      .
      .
      fog on our skin
      we clear the trail
      for the hiker behind
      .
      Astrid Egger
      .
      .
      Lovely sensual opening line, and intriguing second line when we haven’t read the third and last line. Wonderful haiku! 🙂
      .
      .
      leaves of three
      he grabs
      the wrong handhold
      .
      Nancy Brady
      Huron, Ohio
      .
      .
      Love this haiku, and very fresh and original!
      .
      Great last line and it makes you want to enjoy reading the whole haiku all over again, at least once more, and for me, again after that. Great! 🙂

        1. Ouch! I think I’ve only been badly stung by nettles as a youngster, but of course have suffered rashes when younger too. There is always the wrong handhold, especially in places where everything bites or stings! 🙂

  19. .
    Two very different but both full of touch in subtle ways. More power to the Susans!!! 🙂
    .
    .
    Susan ONE:
    .
    .

    family hike
    the growing chill
    in a wrong turn
    .
    Susan Mallernee
    .
    .
    Brilliant, just brilliant! It’s unnerving, but hopefully there is comedy in it, if only once they are all safe and somewhere with a log fire and hot drinks.
    .
    The opening line is open, and feels innocent, but wow, the second line is just a hint but becomes more tense when the last line is read, and then the middle/second line is read again. Incredibly astutely written!
    .
    .

    sharper
    than the baby imagined
    pinecone
    .
    Susan Rogers
    Los Angeles, CA, USA
    .
    .
    Great and intriguing opening line by Susan TWO! 🙂
    .
    It’s also a brilliant line break (enjambment) with astutely managed middle line and again a one word line both opening and closing the haiku. Full of texture and touch.
    .
    Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, use of sense and humour.

    1. You just made my day Alan.
      No…you made my year! My gratitude to you on this Thanksgiving holiday!
      Many blessings
      susan

      1. Dear ‘susqn’
        .
        Are you Susan ONE or Susan TWO? 🙂
        .
        Both haiku are definitely fantastic. I have celebrated Thanksgiving in Los Angeles, but if you are the Susan from Ohio, I never got there alas! 🙂

          1. ah, pinecone susan!
            .
            I’ve had great memories of Los Angeles. I used to regularly attend Long Beach convention center, and had great fun at the Marriott opposite. Once when I was young, and knew I might have to hold down a 12 hour shift with no food, I had so much breakfast, I had to stand up, due to the piled dishes! 🙂
            .
            The hotel staff used to love us eccentric Brits! 🙂
            .
            I haven’t done conventions or conferences over there for a long time, but enjoyed the areas around LA too.
            .
            .
            sharper
            than the baby imagined
            pinecone
            .
            Susan Rogers
            Los Angeles, CA, USA
            .
            .
            Still love the haiku, and the line break choice, starting line two with ‘than’ really works for me! 🙂

    2. “sharper” is just a statement of the impossible to know – the baby’s mind.
      Compare – sweeter than the squirrel knows sugared almond – an exact analogue.
      Anything can be cut and pasted – blacker than the deer sees midge cloud -.
      .

      1. re:
        .
        .
        sharper
        than the baby imagined
        pinecone
        .
        Susan Rogers
        Los Angeles, CA, USA
        .
        .
        simonj said:
        .
        .
        “sharper” is just a statement of the impossible to know – the baby’s mind.
        Compare – sweeter than the squirrel knows sugared almond – an exact analogue.
        Anything can be cut and pasted – blacker than the deer sees midge cloud -.
        .
        .
        re:
        “sharper” is just a statement of the impossible to know – the baby’s mind.
        .

        Alan:
        .
        Fascinating statement indeed! 🙂 It is wondrous to witness babies explore and react, and there’s plenty on YouTube to show how adept they are to learning and open to expressing themselves when something surprises them. 🙂
        .
        .
        “blacker than the deer sees” Wow!

          1. Sound like this could become an interesting haibun, with a bit of fantastic beasts thrown in maybe?
            .
            re:
            .
            “In demonstrating formulaic I may have written something that trips off the tongue, but is nonetheless fantastical.”
            .
            Something for The Other Bunny ed. Johannes S H Bjerg maybe? 🙂

      2. I am not sure about the idea of anything being cut and pasted as it applies to this but my intention
        was the sharp cut of sharper
        and the capture of that moment of needle sharp unexpected contact
        the distillation of that moment in a piercing point of time. Thank you for taking the time to read and respond I appreciate all suggestions.

        1. re:
          .
          .
          sharper
          than the baby imagined
          pinecone
          .
          Susan Rogers
          Los Angeles, CA, USA
          .
          .
          Susan said:
          .
          “I am not sure about the idea of anything being cut and pasted as it applies to this but my intention was the sharp cut of sharper…”
          .
          .
          Love that! 🙂 “The sharp cut of sharper” 🙂
          .
          Susan said:
          “…and the capture of that moment of needle sharp unexpected contact…”
          .
          Yes! 🙂
          .
          Susan said:
          .
          “…the distillation of that moment in a piercing point of time.”
          .
          Love that phrase! 🙂 “That moment in a piercing point of time” is something I can relate to very much, including any time of danger when a second is a very long time, long a slow hanging droplet of water.
          .
          I wouldn’t be surprised to see your haiku in a themed anthology in the future.
          .
          I know Vanessa would love your haiku!!! 🙂
          .
          Blowing Up Balloons, baby poems for parents by Gregory Piko and Vanessa Proctor
          https://www.redmoonpress.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=254&osCsid=d1c8ddb4b33e5b980d143504b8ad9fa9

  20. .
    throwing a pebble
    into the mountain lake –
    circles of autumn sky
    .
    Tomislav Maretic
    .
    .
    The last line makes this fresh from other haiku that have stones or pebbles skipped, skimmed, etc… across a lake or river.
    .
    Lovely last line! 🙂

  21. .
    touch of Alpine air
    my breath leaves its own trail
    on my beard
    .
    Vishnu Kapoor
    .
    .
    Love this, as beards can have their own ecosystem, and interactions with the elements! 🙂
    .
    Wonderful ordering and pacing over each line!
    .
    Brilliant! 🙂

  22. I was intrigued by simonj’s “high street,” having seen Roman works all over Europe and the world. How far have we come on this road! And yet, and yet…

    1. Intriguingly the Romans never made it officially to America, and i doubt got to Australia, but both places make great use of straight Roman roads, arenas, and civic architecture etc…
      .
      .
      “the High Street retreat of eagles” makes me think of the loss of the wonderful independent shops that made such a treasure land for children and adults alike. I hope the eagles come back and defeat the chain stores! 🙂
      .
      .
      the high street
      retreat of eagles
      north wind
      .
      (high street roman road)
      .
      simonj
      UK

      1. Intriguingly the Middle English name for High Street is Brethstrett, where I like to think the first element breth is using breath to mean wind.

        1. simonj said:
          .
          “Intriguingly the Middle English name for High Street is Brethstrett, where I like to think the first element breth is using breath to mean wind.”
          .
          .
          Wow, that explains a lot, as the British High Street gave breath to a town or part of a city, and I’d hate to lose the High Streets of Britain entirely.

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