HAIKU DIALOGUE – Finding peace and contemplation… in hidden corners – Photo One
Finding Peace and Contemplation… in hidden corners with Guest Editor Marietta McGregor
At times in our lives, fast-moving events of our day-to-day existence may become overwhelming. Between work and family responsibilities, daily needs and doomscrolling, days rush by in a breakneck blur and we sometimes end the week with a sense of ‘where did that go?’ We’re surrounded by the wonders of our shared universe. Maybe it’s time to become immersed in the enjoyment of one aspect of this spectacular world which amazes, delights and refreshes us. We can marvel at the night sky or clouds by day, cheer a ladybug as it climbs a twig and opens its wings, dangle our feet in a cool river, rest in a tree’s benevolent shade, stroke velvety green moss, smell ozone freshness at the coast, crunch through frosty grass, listen to morning birdsong, taste a last autumn apple. Small pauses in quotidian life may be devoted to living slower, using every sense, and sharing our pleasure through poetry. Simple gifts.
Each week for the next few weeks there will be a photographic prompt on the theme of ‘Finding peace and contemplation. . .’ with images capturing moments when we might seek inspiration if the going gets tough. I look forward to reading your personal response to the moments you’ve discovered.
next week’s theme: in hidden corners Photo Two – entryway at dusk
Autumn leaf viewing is a kigo or season signifier in Japanese haiku. Kyoto is notable for its shrines, temples and classical gardens, usually thronged with worshippers and tourists in autumn. Back streets in the old town are quieter, especially in the early evening. This entrance intrigued me. I’m not sure if it was a private home or restaurant. The warm light invited the eye in and up to the red maple leaves above. There was a feeling of intimacy. Your haiku are invited about this photograph or other quiet, tucked-away corners that welcome you, in your favourite season.
The deadline is midnight Eastern Standard Time, Saturday March 13, 2021.
Please use the Haiku Dialogue submission form below to enter one or two original unpublished haiku inspired by the week’s theme, and then press Submit to send your entry. (The Submit button will not be available until the Name, Email, and Place of Residence fields are filled in.) With your poem, please include any special formatting requirements & your name as you would like it to appear in the column. A few haiku will be selected for commentary each week. Please note that by submitting, you agree that your work may appear in the column – neither acknowledgment nor acceptance emails will be sent. All communication about the poems that are posted in the column will be added as blog comments.
below is Marietta’s commentary for Photo One – lichen-covered seat:
The haiku this week were very reflective, often addressing loss and dark themes. But not all were sad poems. For many of you, the image brought to mind fond memories of a place you’d visited, perhaps with a beloved parent or grandparent, or as one of a couple. I’m sure we all have a secluded place where we love to go and sit, soaking up the atmosphere away from the hustle and bustle. The scent and colour of gardens and gardening are a source of quiet enjoyment as well. Interestingly, there were almost no haiku relating to the pandemic.
I look forward very much to your poems over the next weeks. You can send up to two haiku each week. Because of the number of great responses, I can only include one for each poet, though I could include many others. Thank you all for contributing to Haiku Dialogue and for coming along with me this first week in March. I hope you enjoy the rest of the month!
park bench
next to me the shadow
of a memoryValentina Ranaldi-Adams
Fairlawn, Ohio USA
Its very elusiveness is what first drew me to this haiku. Memory is a precious thing. Its loss or even partial loss is almost unimaginable, and even makes us afraid. When we revisit familiar places – we might call them old haunts – we revisit memories, some happy, some not. The poet seems to be doing just that by sitting down on a park bench where a shadow is cast. We find out it’s not the poet’s own shadow, but ‘the shadow of a memory’. Synapses are triggered by a sideways glance to connect this moment to another earlier time. But a memory glimpsed from the corner of an eye is fickle, and won’t fully materialise. Did the poet sit here once with someone they loved? Or was it on another entirely different bench somewhere else far away? Is it a moment of déjà vu? I’ve experienced times when half-memories just don’t want to come back into focus, so this haiku and its shadings resonated for me.
free period
losing track of time
in the stacksTim Cremin
United States
Layer upon layer of folded, perforated, stitched and bound paper. Hushed silence. A characteristic scent of old lignin, buckram and gum. That’s ‘the stacks’ of a library for me. The ‘free period’ is an opportunity for someone who may be a busy teacher or student to escape for some quiet respite. So beguiling it is to drift from shelf to shelf, following Alice down endless rabbit holes. The poet is engrossed. Time stands still. For me the haiku successfully manages to link and shift away from an image of multi-layered lichens on a garden seat in a peaceful corner, to the hush of a library crammed with scholarly books and journals. There’s a worrying undertone though. The rustic timber bench with all its epiphytes must eventually rot away. Will libraries survive modernisation? Already, some hard copy ‘stacks’ have been digitised and done away with. This ‘free period’ is maybe the only time the poet will have to browse through secret corners of a printed collection.
ribboned horizon
an artisanal teacup
warms my heartMary Vlooswyk
Calgary, AB
I love the image of the fragment in this haiku of ‘ribboned horizon’. That horizon is something I recognise from living in Tasmania as a child. It’s not often seen in more northerly parts of mainland Australia because the light is stronger. Brought to mind by the soft colours of the slats of the garden bench, the layers of pale-lit sky intermingled with pastel strands of cloud most often appear low on the horizon after sunup on chilly mornings. This leads me to think it must be cold where the poet is making the observation. What better than to pour hot tea into a favourite handmade ceramic or earthenware cup as you look at the sky! The poet would wrap both hands around the beautiful cup to warm them. Maybe describing this could be enough for a good haiku; however, line 3 goes to another level to tell us the cup is warming more than hands. The poet links into a long tradition of tea drinkers from Japan and beyond, who not only enjoy a warming cuppa but also have the pleasure of knowing the vessel they drink from comes from the hands of an artist.
moss-covered bench . . .
I settle into a depression
left by anotherCarole MacRury
Point Roberts, WA USA
A reflective haiku, this one. The poem to me has wabi sabi – the beauty implicit in worn or rustic things and an acceptance that nothing is perfect, or permanent. It is a joyful acceptance, I think, from the first words of line 2: ‘I settle’. To me this implies the poet is comfortable and at peace sitting here, knowing they’re not the first to occupy the bench, and probably won’t be the last. There could be a sad reading too. Maybe this seat was once occupied by two people sitting together – a married couple, close friends or members of a family. Time has passed, there has been a loss, and now only one person has come to sit here. They sit in the same spot where their companion once sat, seeking the comfort of memories.
below are the rest of the selections:
coping with grief
the garden still
overgrownM. R. Defibaugh
Richmond, VA
spring rain
our hidden place—
the silence between usVladsilav Hristov
Bulgaria
the moss
in your place . . .
long eveningSubir Ningthouja
Imphal, India
secret garden
there are no words
to describe itMichael Henry Lee
Saint Augustine Florida
moonrise over the pawtuxet
fragments hidden before
becoming visibleMichelle Beyers
up on the loft
in the old trunk
black and white photosS.Ram Chandran
India
serenity
the hyacinths fading
to a darker purpleDeborah Karl-Brandt
Bonn, Germany
rising up
through blackbird song
new growthPatricia Hawkhead
United Kingdom
beside me
on a park bench
my wedding ringVandana Parashar
India
terracotta corner
the cat and I catch
the last raysMarion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland
elder park bench
the green
of its stillnessR. Suresh Babu
India
I know a bench
where wild lichen grows—
poet’s cornerDorothy Burrows
United Kingdom
wild bo tree shade
a peacock opens its feathers
for the ruined buddhaMalintha Perera
Sri Lanka
tranquil corner
not even my ghosts
haunt me hereTracy Davidson
Warwickshire, UK
daffodils
a bit of sun
in a cornerNazarena Rampini
Italy
tombstone lichen
how difficult it is
to get detachedHifsa Ashraf
Pakistan
a mossy bench
in the back garden—
our forgotten conversationSari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY
lush green—
is this the hue
of my scars?Teji Sethi
India
no sign
they were ever here
fairy benchKristen Lindquist
Maine, US
silence
weeding my way
to the scent of peoniesPat Davis
Pembroke, NH USA
winter waves
that rock that holds my seat
now rocksSimon J
United Kingdom
New York Times
these days only
the crosswordPaul Geiger
Sebastopol CA
nana’s old garden
yellow butterflies
still visitRoberta Beach Jacobson
Indianola, IA, USA
alone in the park
two names hidden
under ivy trailsArvinder Kaur
Chandigarh, India
mountain campsite
our breath mingles
with cloudsLouise Hopewell
Australia
where we hung over the fence
admiring the view
mother’s ashesIngrid Baluchi
North Macedonia
harvest moon
in the straw bowl
the song of a cricketRadostina Dragostinova
Bulgaria
at mom’s grave—
after so many years
still looking for peaceMirela Brăilean
Romania
moss-covered footbridge
the twelve steps it takes
to crossLaurie Greer
Washington, DC
Nova Scotia—
lying in a hayfield
halfway skyKit Nagamura
Japan
the wood moth and I
share invisibility…
garden benchMichele L. Harvey
New York
soft landing
place to ponder
hard choicesKathleen Mazurowski
Chicago, IL
backyard hideout . . .
my son and I check the guns
for bamboo bugsMilan Rajkumar
India
opening day
I cast my line under
the same old logBryan Rickert
Belleville, Illinois USA
spring runway
the showy poise
of purple irisesGreer Woodward
Waimea, HI
sharing wisdom
the hidden bench in
grandpa’s gardenMinal Sarosh
Ahmedabad, India
spring cleaning
the discolored poems
in my childhood notebookKeiko Izawa
Japan
our bench—
I would like to tell you
that now there is mossMaria Teresa Piras
Serrenti – Italia
the darkest
corner of my thought
moss on mossAgus Maulana Sunjaya
Tangerang, Indonesia
pandemic year
new corners
to cleanPeggy Hale Bilbro
Huntsville, Alabama
daily chats
on a rusty bench
old graffitiLuisa Santoro
Rome, Italy
counting the days . . .
the last full moon
for me and the gardencontando i giorni . . .
l’ultima luna piena
per me e il giardinoAngiola Inglese
Italia
empty bench
the mossy imprint
of your absenceOrense Nicod
Paris, France
early morning dew
twinkling in the lichen
a song of starsSusan Rogers
Los Angeles, CA US
hammock hour willow strands caressing the air and me
Carole Harrison
Jamberoo, Australia
Guest editor Marietta McGregor is a fourth-generation Tasmanian who has made her home between Australia’s national capital Canberra and the scenic south coast of New South Wales for over four decades. A lover of the natural world since childhood, she went on to study botany and zoology, and has worked as palynologist, garden designer, science journalist, editor, university tutor, education manager, and grants developer for the national wildlife collection. A photography and travel enthusiast since retiring, she enjoys capturing fine detail of fleeting moments. She came late to haiku, which appealed for its close observation and poetic expression of ephemeral experience. Her haiku, haibun and haiga have been widely published, have won awards and appear in anthologies.
Lori Zajkowski is the Post Manager for Haiku Dialogue. A novice haiku poet, she lives in New York City.
Managing Editor Katherine Munro lives in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, and publishes under the name kjmunro. She is Membership Secretary for Haiku Canada, and her debut poetry collection is contractions (Red Moon Press, 2019). Find her at: kjmunro1560.wordpress.com.
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Please note that all poems & images appearing in Haiku Dialogue may not be used elsewhere without express permission – copyright is retained by the creators. Please see our Copyright Policies.
This Post Has 26 Comments
Comments are closed.
moss-covered bench . . .
I settle into a depression
left by another
.
Carole MacRury
Point Roberts, WA USA
.
I found the description of Carole’s poem fascinating—one beautiful thing about haiku are the many different interpretations possible from such a short poem. I found ‘depression’ to simply infer the dent of the moss, like a head makes in a pillow, indicating a person had just been sitting on that bench. Of course, the more the possibilities the more interesting the poem!
no sign
they were ever here
fairy bench
Kristen Lindquist
I love this secret moment, Kristen. A hidden away presence , known but invisible, like the essence of one we love…intangible but sure, unique and a shared moment of “they” perhaps two… a small gathering place that has a special feeling. We are drawn. For unveiling the certainty …of shared delight thank you Kristen!
Thank you, Marietta, for your insightful commentary these past few weeks. I have enjoyed reading you. Also thank you for mentioning one of mine.. Congratulations to all the poets!
cold hands-
this corner of the beach
in full sun
le mani fredde-
quest ‘angolo di spiaggia
in pieno sole
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
closed windows-
the first dry leaves
on the green grass
vetri chiusi-
le prime foglie secche
sull’erba verde
Thank you, Marietta Mc Gregor-Editor, for placing my verse in this week’s collection, also to Post Manager Lori Zajkowski, and Managing Editor Katherine Munro! I enjoyed reading your comments. Congratulations to all poets.
Congratulations to all the poets and many thanks to Marietta for including my poem. There are so many poems to admire in this column and , as usual, I have enjoyed reading them all. Several poems stood out for me because of the memories or thoughts they evoked. Currently living in lockdown, I very much enjoyed the vistas that the following two poems provided…
mountain campsite
our breath mingles
with clouds
Louise Hopewell
Australia
Nova Scotia—
lying in a hayfield
halfway sky
Kit Nagamura
Japan
For me, both poems have a lovely cinematic quality and this allowed me to imagine I was there in that moment. I also loved the musicality of Kit’s poem. For me, this added to its dream-like quality. I also really enjoyed the musicality in …
terracotta corner
the cat and I catch
the last rays
Marion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland
I love both the image and the pleasing sounds in this poem – it demands to be read out loud!
Thank you once again, Marietta, for the challenge and the incisive commentaries. Many thanks to Kj and Lori for the administration. I look forward to next week!
Thank you, Dorothy—sound is very important to me in haiku so I’m pleased you picked up on that.
marion
Thank you Marietta for choosing one of mine to comment on this week. Congratulations to everyone! A lot of fine poems to enjoy! I have found your photographs and commentary inspiring!
I can’t wait to bask in the warmer spring weather, and these three poems spoke to me of this desire….
serenity
the hyacinths fading
to a darker purple
Deborah Karl-Brandt
Bonn, Germany
Such a peaceful moment, yet at the same time I love the way it acknowledge the beauty in the aging process. The way hyacinth and iris too, deepen in color before their time is up.
terracotta corner
the cat and I catch
the last rays
Marion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland
Marion’s haiku had me longing for my own ‘terracotta corner’. The very words summon up such warmth!
tranquil corner
not even my ghosts
haunt me here
Tracy Davidson
Warwickshire, UK
I loved Tracy’s for the same reason. I must really want my own tranquil corner, make it terra cotta, and I’ll be in heaven!
I’m so happy you’re enjoying the prompts, Carole! And I love the warmth of your favourite haiku, too! I’m sure your favourite corner is close to home!
Thank you so much, Carole. We have a very small patio with whitewashed walls and terracotta tiles and, during summer, the cat and I race to get the corner with the last rays of sunshine! 😄
marion
And I meant to say, I found your haiku sadly thought-provoking.
And what great visual prompts from Marietta. 🙂
marion
Thank you Marietta for your wonderful lichen covered seat photo and for including my haiku ths week!
I enjoyed your comments very much as well as all the haiku
especially
serenity
the hyacinths fading
to a darker purple
–Deborah Karl-Brandt
A moment of quiet grace
and
our bench–
I would like to tell you
that now there is moss
–Maria Teresa Piras
Such heart in those few words
Thank you, dear Susan, for capturing the “heart” in my haiku.
Thanks, Marietta Mc Gregor-Editor, for including my haiku in the weekly collection. Thanks also to Post Manager Lori Zajkowski and Managing Editor Katherine Munro! Very beautiful haiku that you have commented and very beautiful your comments. I enjoyed reading all the haiku. Congratulations to all the poets.
Thank you, Maria Teresa, for your deeply moving haiku and for your kind words. I’m so glad you are enjoying Haiku Dialogue!
Thank you very much, Sari Grandstaff for appreciating my haiku.
Marietta, thank-you for selecting my haiku for commentary. I am very pleased and surprised. Thank-you to Kathy and Lori for their efforts. Congrats to all the poets who were selected.
You’re welcome, Valentina. It was a pleasure to write about your lovely poem. I’m so glad you’re enjoying Haiku Dialogue
Thank you, Marietta Mc Gregor-Editor, for placing my verse in this week’s collection, also to Post Manager Lori Zajkowski, and Managing Editor Katherine Munro! I enjoyed reading your comments. Congratulations to all poets.
Your poem about losing someone most dear and how difficult the acceptance of loss can be touched me, Mirela. Thank you for contributing to Haiku Dialogue and hope you will continue to contribute.
Thank you so much Marietta for including my haiku in your Haiku Dialogue this week! I too love this one that you commented on. I always think it is a great compliment when you read a haiku and wish you had written that haiku yourself. That is how I feel about this one!
free period
losing track of time
in the stacks
Tim Cremin
United States
I also find this one to be a standout:
our bench—
I would like to tell you
that now there is moss
Maria Teresa Piras
Serrenti – Italia
This just gets me right in the heart.
And I think this one makes a really poignant connection:
spring cleaning
the discolored poems
in my childhood notebook
Keiko Izawa
Japan
Thank you very much, Sari Grandstaff for appreciating my haiku.
Thank you very much Sari for the nice remark. Thank you also Marietta for including mine.
You’re welcome, Keiko. A lovely haiku!
Thanks so much for your comments, Sari. I’m very glad you’re enjoying the variety of haiku. Look forward to yours in future weeks!
silence
weeding my way
to the sceent of peonies
Pat Davis
I feel the diligent work, continuous and, repetitive and solitary, concentrated. And the sudden unexpected reward! Love this kind of moment. Our reward, the sweetness of life opens! Thank you for reminding us by describing it so well Pat!