HAIKU DIALOGUE – Finding peace and contemplation… in worn, imperfect and transient things… gnarled tree stump

Finding peace and contemplation… in worn, imperfect and transient things 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 worn, imperfect and transient things… old ship’s chain

I photographed this weathered wrought iron chain near a restored lighthouse in Japan. I think it must have been a ship’s chain once. Though pitted by corrosion, it was very heavy and certainly looked strong. I liked the way each link was reinforced with a cross bar for added stability. Chains can stand as symbols for unbreakable bonds. They can also signify unity and continuity because they appear to have no beginning or end. A darker meaning ascribed to them is that of incarceration. On the other hand, a broken chain can be taken as symbolising freedom. Your haiku inspired by chains and other ties that bind are invited this week.

The deadline is midnight Eastern Daylight Time, Saturday October 02, 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Please use the Haiku Dialogue submission form below to enter one or two original unpublished haiku inspired by the week’s theme, and then press Submit to send your entry.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 in worn, imperfect and transient things… gnarled tree stump:

Another host of fine haiku for me to enjoy this week, thank you all very much. As always, I wish I could comment on many more. The battered eucalypt stump was a heartening symbol of renewal, rebirth and transformation for poets. A ‛nurse tree’ nurtured new growth, spring rains collected in hollows, birds found a convenient perch, and wildflowers bloomed between broken tiles. A barn door took on a new season’s hues, and in an old inn a wooden board sprouted leaves. The stump’s bumps, wrinkles and curves evoked the loved faces of older relatives, and how hardship as well as laughter had molded their character-filled features. Other haiku were reflective, conveying a quiet acquiescence to changes wrought by ageing gracefully. Do join in the discussion and let us know your favorite poems! I look forward to everyone’s contributions on Haiku Dialogue. Thanks again as always to Kathy, Lori and THF.

soap opera actress
studying the lines
on her face

Sari Grandstaff
Saugerties, NY, USA

A clever double entendre in this senryu. Lines 1 and 2 show us an actress studying her script for the next episode of a ‛soapie’. We see her in her dressing room seated in front of a big make-up mirror, one of the sort surrounded with harsh and unforgiving lights. The image plays out with a twist in line 3, as she turns her face from one profile to the other, scanning perhaps with dismay the signs of ageing she may be reluctant to acknowledge. There’s an underlying melancholy here. Leading men are rather unfairly allowed to age, while this star may be facing a turning point in her career.

retirement home
on every windowsill
forget-me-nots

Florin C. Ciobica
Romania

As the pandemic has swept through many countries, fear of infection has meant that the frail elderly who live in retirement villages have been shut away for many months from their families and friends, sometimes only being able to see them through window glass. This poignant haiku is set in spring, when forget-me-nots bloom. Someone, perhaps a worker in the nursing home, has taken the trouble to pot up some pretty perennials in window boxes or pots, hoping to brighten up the outlook for the residents. But the choice of flowers in the poem may also evoke a desperately sad reality: sometimes old folk are placed in care homes by relatives who thereafter seem to forget them.

ageing—
something like
a poem refound

Richa Sharma
India

This gentle haiku made me think about what is lost and found throughout our lives. Can a poem be refound? I think it can. If you’re like me, you go to sleep with a haiku circling your brain, only to wake next morning and it’s gone. Sometimes a random word will bring that poem to mind. It’s a satisfying moment of rediscovery. Haiku about ageing often dwell on the beauty and character of old faces and bodies, not conventional ‛pin-up quality’ looks but a deeper and more satisfying loveliness. To me this haiku seeks to convey the pleasure and fulfilment the poet experiences in finding this new beauty. As we get older, life can serve up surprises.

hot tub
grandma jumps in
the sound of laughter

Keith Evetts
Thames Ditton UK

What fun! Grandma is obviously enjoying herself, as I imagine it is she who is laughing. This poem could perhaps be better described as a senryu. Haiku or senryu like this which directly relate to an earlier well-known poem may be referred to as honkadori or allusive variation. The poet subverts and parodies a classic haiku in a very enjoyable way. It could be seen as a sort of lèse-majesté, but I think even Bashō would have a quiet chuckle. Sometimes we forget that haiku may capture humorous human moments, as well as sketches from nature.

a gnarled
tree stump—
my grandpa’s life

Aljoša Vuković
Croatia, Šibenik

 

family reunion . . .
in the old pond
new tadpoles

Deborah Karl-Brandt
Bonn, Germany

 

lichens on the lime trunk expecting nothing

Helga Stania
Switzerland

 

shooting star
the space where
my childhood lingers

Stephen A. Peters
Bellingham, Wa. USA

 

leaves
adam wore ’em
out

(with apologies to Millican’s/Nash’s ‛Fleas’)

Helen Buckingham
United Kingdom

 

single malt—
40 heady years
with you

Jeff Leong
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

 

old tree stump
the owl and I
share a shrine

Surashree Joshi
Pune, India

 

infertile clinic . . .
by the window
calendulas

Subir Ningthouja
Imphal, India

 

logs
in woodpile stacked
5-7-5

Roberta Beach Jacobson
Indianola, Iowa, USA

 

squashed toes
leading to knobbly knees
first bonsai

Robert Kingston
Essex, UK

 

rings of a tree
two seniors counting
their smile lines

Richard Matta
San Diego, California

 

frail hands
what seasons did
to my mother

Teji Sethi
India

 

through the wind tunnel
past meets
future

Teiichi Suzuki
Japan

 

tree stump
her laughter remains
deep rooted

Ravi Kiran
India

 

scarecrow
with a Borsalino hat
harvest moon

Tsanka Shishkova
Bulgaria

 

turning a hundred . . .
Gran smiles
through every wrinkle

Akila G
Hyderabad, India

 

wrinkled trunk—
homeless becomes invisible
on the pavement

Shri Desai
Toronto

 

their story written
in the gnarls and burls
an oldtimer

Ron Russell
United States

 

dry leaves
swirling
fall embrace

Barbara Gardino
Virginia

 

new stylish detail
a painted stump
instead of a chair

Slobodan Pupovac
Zagreb, Croatia

 

after thunder
the kitten’s touch on
moon grass

Vibeke Laier
Randers Denmark

 

dying with dignity
new life shelters
in its shadow

Tracy Davidson
Warwickshire, UK

 

in her eighties
she forgives it all—
falling leaves

Penny Harter
Mays Landing, NJ

 

full of life
the gnarled tree stump—
butterflies

Mirela Brăilean
Romania

 

rings on our oak’s stump . . .
which of the ancestors
planted the tree?

Natalia Kuznetsova
Russia

 

autumn haze—
the gnarled stump
still ripples life

पतझड़ की धुंध—
पुराने ठूंठ में अभी भी
जीवन लहर

Neena Singh
Chandigarh, India

 

contemplation
the gnarled tree limb
points to the sky

Anitha Varma
Kerala, India

 

selfies before and after
the face lift
Vanitas

Caroline Giles Banks
Minneapolis, Minnesota USA

 

twilight
the gnarled oak
becomes a ghost tree

Carol Judkins
Carlsbad, CA USA

 

age spots
the marks left by a life
well lived

Mona Bedi
Delhi, India

 

crow’s feet . . .
the same smile
as always

Rosa Maria Di Salvatore
Catania Italy

 

roots
my village banyan
pulling me home

Baisali Chatterjee Dutt
Kolkata, India

 

love
the long walk
from his room to hers

Maurice Nevile
Australia

 

her gold ring
worn completely down
growing old together

Rehn Kovacic
Mesa, AZ

 

mailbox
back invisible
covered with creepers

Nani Mariani
Australia

 

echoes of night the remains of a sycamore

Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
Centerville, Ohio, USA

 

turning fifty . . .
I share the stories
my laugh lines hide

Vandana Parashar
India

 

almost midnight
still the gnarled tree
stands straight

John Green
Bellingham, WA

 

fifth season—
they imitate Vivaldi
my old violin

Wiesław Karliński
Namysłów, Poland

 

72 years etched
on her beautiful face
why a facelift?

Margaret Mahony
Australia

 

spring rains
the colour rising
on the barn door

simonj
UK

 

banyan tree roots
the sweep of her dupatta
with the swing

Arvinder Kaur
Chandigarh, India

 

50th anniversary
the lines around her mouth
soften into a blush

Padmini Krishnan
Singapore

 

could this
be my moment . . .
silver-grey hair

Meera Rehm
UK

 

slower now—
her dance moves
on the porch

Dan Campbell
Virginia

 

at sunset
bending toward each other
two grey heads

Nicole Pottier
France

 

ancient steps
confession marks of
penitents

Lyntha Nelson
Colorado, USA

 

cardamom tea
grandma inhales the morning
sip by sip

Minal Sarosh
Ahmedabad, India

 

hollow-eyed . . .
how the depth of her wisdom
has sunk in

Laurie Greer
Washington, DC

 

ancient wisteria
strangling the wrought iron fence
. . . gracefully

Ingrid Baluchi
North Macedonia

 

ten years younger—
the grace of a mirror
without glasses

Cynthia Anderson
Yucca Valley, California

 

grandpa’s barn
slumped in the shadows
of ancient light

Pris Campbell
USA

 

bumpy stump
a captured prince
waiting for a kiss

Ljiljana Dobra
Croatia

 

knobbly boughs
she still believes
in fairies and elves

Kanjini Devi
The Far North, Aotearoa NZ

 

a gnarled tree stump—
blossoms and butterflies
drawn by imagination

Tomislav Maretić
Zagreb, Croatia

 

village
the roadside banyan
ageing gracefully . . .

Bidyut Prabha Gantayat
Bhubaneswar, India

 

old river gum
a lifetime of battle scars

Carol Reynolds
Australia

 

dinosaur ballroom
music silenced in time
the tracks persist

JL Huffman
Blue Ridge Mountains of NC, USA

 

old weathered bench
another season’s
leaves

Ann K. Schwader
Westminster, CO

 

road building
a fallen giant pine
rest halt

Neera Kashyap
India

 

ancient pine
in Cupid’s heart and arrow
red lichen

Sue Courtney
Orewa, New Zealand

 

nestled in moss
I search for your wisdom . . .
gnarled roots

Alfred Booth
Colombes, France

 

a castle
of his dreams
gnarled hands

Didimay Dimacali
Norwalk, California

 

birdsong chorus
the softness
of her vocals

Zahra Mughis
Lahore, Pakistan

 

drawn
to the stories
shared by each wrinkle

Padma Rajeswari
Mumbai, India

 

cycle of life
from the pine stump
a pine

Agus Maulana Sunjaya
Tangerang, Banten, Indonesia

 

autumn morning
a broken branch left by
the evening storm

Manoj Sharma
Kathmandu Nepal

 

the mother cat
licks my wrinkled wrist
her forever kitten

Greer Woodward
Waimea, HI

 

foggy vision
grandma’s wrinkled fingers
against my face

Priti Khullar
India

 

gnarled hands . . .
Dad writes to decline
his annual membership

Marion Clarke
Warrenpoint, Northern Ireland

 

the pauses
in my walk . . .
reconnecting

Madhuri Pillai
Australia

 

autumn sun
the shadow of an oak
in a sumi-e

Mircea Moldovan
Romania

 

riverside bench . . .
the length
of a collapsed tree

Priti Aisola
India

 

sawdust the stump’s hundred rings

Tim Cremin
Massachusetts

 

mum’s wrinkles—
first spring days . . .

las arrugas de mamá—
primeros días
de primavera

Julia Guzmán
Córdoba Argentina

 

scarecrow
still threadbare
as ever

Edna Beers
Rensselaer, NY

 

old inn—
on the knot of a board
some leaves

Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi
Chivilcoy Buenos Aires Argentina

 

last roses—
on every single plate
the lineage

Paola Trevisson
Italy

 

collapsed roof—
unnamed flowers
between the tiles

Maria Teresa Piras
Serrenti – Italy

 

young shoots
on the stump of an old olive tree
a dove

Zdenka Mlinar
Hrvatska

 

age-old rings
on Bristlecone pine
tranquility of karesansui

Melanie Vance
USA

 

winter evening
a new sapling
in withered hands

Devoshruti Mandal
Varanasi, India

 

slow music
the faded silk
still catches the light

Helene Guojah
UK

 

lento abbandono . . .
sul davanzale vuoto
l’eco d’un canto

slow abandonment . . .
on the empty windowsill
the echo of a song

Giuliana Ravaglia
Bologna Italia

 

shining
though stained by time—
rusty moon

Luisa Santoro
Rome, Italy

 

craggy hills
a life story etched
on her weathered face

Bona M. Santos
Los Angeles, CA

 

life drawing class—
her ancient body
now a star

Dorothy Burrows
United Kingdom

 

old farmstead
buildings gone
only the trees

Susan Farner
United States

 

stumped
for an answer—
birch tree

Pippa Phillips
United States

 

a distant phone call . . .
are you sweeter
than my solitude

Maya Daneva
The Netherlands

 

bristlecone
my grandmother’s collection
of hat pins

Lorraine A Padden
San Diego, CA

 

cold ground—
saplings among moss
on a nurse log

Wakako Miya Rollinger
Topanga, CA

 

foglie cadute
sul tronco spoglio
un croco viola

fallen leaves
on the bare trunk
a purple crocus

Angiola Inglese
Italia

 

orion . . .
ma’s age
spots

P. H. Fischer
Vancouver, Canada

 

city street
the dead tree becomes
a bird perch

Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
USA

 

lakeside—
ripples wrinkling
the willow

Lafcadio Orlovsky
USA

 

vintage record
even swing music
sounds softer

Mona Iordan
Romania

 

family gathering—
a spark of youth
in gran’s smile

Cristina Povero
Italy

 

so many twists
and turns in the road
new beginnings

Karen Harvey
Pwllheli, N Wales

 

back home
spread ashes around
my father’s cedar

Anna Yin
Ontario, Canada

 

her thinning hair . . .
the meager weight
of moonlight

Barrie Levine
Wenham MA USA

 

kintsugi—
welcoming
my golden years

(kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the breakage with lacquer dusted with gold, silver, or platinum)

Helen Ogden
Pacific Grove, CA

 

counting the rings
the heart-shaped stump
of all my years

Kathabela Wilson
United States

 

Gran’s meticulous
dress, jewelry, and make-up
ninety-five years

Claire Vogel Camargo
United States

 

an elderly friend
teaches her about accessories
clip on earrings

Nancy Brady
Huron, Ohio, USA

 

window grill—
a frayed dragonfly rests
on the bright sky

Sushama Kapur
Pune, India

 

still beautiful
even with no flowers
last summer’s orchid

Susan Rogers
United States

 

a reminder
of what I survived
old scars

Christina Sng
Singapore

 

eightieth birthday
granny dances with grace
at the party

Xiaoou Chen
Kunming, China

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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