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HAIKU DIALOGUE – Haiku Prism – Orange & Intro to the way of …

Haiku Prism – A World in Color & Intro to the way of … – welcome back Guest Editor Craig Kittner

Haiku moments are the will-o’-wisps we seek. The purest of them aren’t formed by effort. They arise naturally when we allow ourselves to simply be.

Haiku is flavored by the nature of the writer’s beingness. There are many ways to be. For June and July we will try out nine of them and see what comes to light.

next week’s theme: the way of the gardener: be a good steward of nature’s abundance

Sit where there are lots of growing things all around you. In a stream of consciousness manner, write down everything you see, hear, smell and feel. Amass a large body of words. Then go someplace quiet. Weed and prune your words until you are left with a well-tended haiku.

Please send up to two unpublished haiku by clicking here: Contact Form, and put Haiku Dialogue in the Subject box. The deadline is midnight Eastern Standard Time, Saturday June 06, 2020.

Selected haiku will be listed in the order they are received with a few chosen 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 can be added as blog comments.

Below is Tia’s commentary for Orange:

First, I would like to thank all of you for your enthusiastic participation over the past several months. Serving as your guest editor has been truly uplifting during these long stay-at-home order weeks, and your haiku have added much-needed color to my life. I look forward to joining you on the other side and participating in upcoming themes. Second, this week has proven itself to be just as diverse in craft and subject matter as weeks past. From fruit to relationships to current events, the surprising versatility of the color orange is apparent. This week I have chosen to comment on a few that I felt well-represented this range.

longest day
peeling the orange
in a single strip

Kristen Lindquist

There is something incredibly satisfying about peeling an orange in a single strip. All my senses are engaged. The distinct sweet smell, the juice and rind on my fingertips, the sound of breaking into the peel, the beautiful vibrant color, and of course the satisfying taste. And here, not only are my senses engaged, but my mind as well. With the length of the peel paired with the summer solstice, and our beautiful blue planet paired with the shape of an orange, it makes for a delightful juxtaposition.

your eyes
on the orange butterfly:
what patterns

Kala Ramesh

On the surface of this haiku, one can read that the patterns refer to the butterfly or even the flower upon which it rests. Yet, if you look closer, there is another layer of watching the patterns of expression in the beholder’s eyes. Is it wonder? Is it surprise? Could it even be sadness? We as the readers have been given the gift of finishing the haiku for ourselves, of creating our own world out of a simply expressed moment, which is always a treat.

minnesota skyline
last of the sunlight
turns to flames

Rich Schilling, Webster Groves, MO

Not only is this timely, but this current event in the United States has also been handled with great care. Here, there is no taking of sides, no emotional pleas, no attempt to push a political agenda. We are given facts, two concrete images, that convey a greater truth, of the heartache and civil unrest currently going on in my country. This is serious senryu at its finest.

I hope you enjoy the rest of this week’s selections. Happy reading!

silent treatment —
slicing carrots with
the carving knife

Roberta Beary, County Mayo, Ireland

 

marigolds
this social distancing
not so bad after all

Stephen Peters

 

island heat
the softness of
papaya flesh

Bryan Rickert

 

orange peel-
tonight only
a slice of the moon

Vincenzo Adamo

 

pumpkin festival
even the sun
is orange

Aljoša Vuković

 

orange blossoms
do i know you
from a past life

Willie Bongcaron

 

eating the sun
juice dribbles
down her chin

Nancy Liddle

 

it once meant
something to her
orange topaz

Rehn Kovacic

 

orange sky
all that’s not left
in our tulip garden

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

 

scattered sunlight
in my pocket
crushed marigolds

Vicki Miko

 

twilight…
the lily pond
gets a new colour

Lakshmi Iyer

 

evening tea
with every sip
the sun slips

Vandana Parashar

 

orange sky —
he paves the way
for departure

Hifsa Ashraf, Pakistan

 

another cross
along this muddy road
marigolds

Agus Maulana Sunjaya, Tangerang, Indonesia

 

autumn rain
I carve a bigger smile
on the pumpkin

Nisha Raviprasad

 

orange sunshine
the flashbacks down
to a dull roar

Michael Henry Lee

 

tangerine sky
peeling back
all the layers

Theresa Okafor

 

hospice ward
a shock of marigolds
on the window sill

Wendy Toth Notarnicola

 

walk
among the orange sunflowers
late love

Tsanka Shishkova

 

orange sky
two crab cages stacked
on the kayak

John S Green

 

rising sun
the fruit bowl
full of oranges

Olivier Schopfer, Switzerland

 

papaya
the ripening hues
of summer

Kat Lehmann

 

hand exercises
my turn at the orange
squeezer

Pat Davis, NH

 

oranges
searching for rhymes
in the wrong places

Jackie Chou, Pico Rivera, CA USA

 

fading orange …
this burden to do
nothing

Vijay Prasad

 

crowded bus . . .
the lingering scent
of a peeled orange

Manoj Sharma

 

petroleum flares
across the harbour
the orange sea

john hawkhead

 

sunset rendezvous –
a taste of orange candy
on her lips

arvinder kaur, Chandigarh, India

 

generations later
lingering still
agent orange

Ingrid Baluchi

 

spring sunset…
his stride lengthens
with the shadows

Nick Taylor

 

the loosened binding
of Penguin paperbacks
classic fall day

Laurie Greer

 

savanna sunset
the orange glow
in the lion’s mane

Corine Timmer

 

peeling oranges
the stinging spiral
of broken promises

Rashmi VeSa

 

twilight…
the irises wallow
in afterglow

Isabel Caves

 

breath testing
a fluorescent wand
slows me down

Madhuri Pillai

 

too early for pumpkins
this sudden desire
to carve

Deborah P Kolodji, Temple City, California

 

yellow and red
from her brush the sudden
flare of sunrise

Clifford Rames

 

stale popcorn
tear streaked face paint
in the Dawg Pound

Joshua Gage

 

but for the monk’s robe
silence
in the old temple

Michele L. Harvey

 

sunset . . .
the many tastes
of orange

Carole MacRury

 

hair coloring
best left to professionals
covid orange

Christopher Seep

 

country cafe
hunters in orange vests order
the breakfast special

Randy Brooks

 

roadside tiger lilies
she wonders if
they talk too

Nancy Brady, Huron, Ohio

 

picking peaches
tall enough
on Daddy’s shoulders

Margaret Walker

 

changing season…
orange outpaces green
in art class

Pris Campbell

 

knife marks
on the cutting board
bitter oranges

Angiola Inglese

 

the light
of the morning sun…
ripe peaches

Rosa Maria Di Salvatore

 

long pause
we study the insect
trapped in resin

Mark Powderhill

 

candle flame flickers
the burning smell
of moths

Neha R. Krishna

 

veiled insinuations
the tartness
of tangerines

Lynne Jambor

 

family memories
the carnelian necklace
on mom’s skin

Elisa Allo

 

sunset moments –
the inflamed tones
of your silent words

Luisa Santoro, Italy

 

the papaya’s sweetness
not enough
to soften her tongue

Charlotte Hrenchuk

 

Allhallowtide seasons my mask my enemy my friend

Alan Summers

 

first born
my wink as they call him
carrot top

Kath Abela Wilson

 

Christmas stocking
the tangerine in the toe
is enough

Edna Beers

 

the stain
of broken promises
her streaks of iodine

Susan Rogers, Los Angeles

 

tropical theme
for her bedroom
sunglasses required

Ronald K Craig, Batavia, Ohio. USA

 

orangery . . .
we unwrap the scent
of childhood

Debbie Strange

 

she checks her bird list
the flap of flagging tape
from a tree branch

Astrid Egger

Guest Editor Tia Haynes resides in Lakewood, Ohio, near her beloved Lake Erie. She was featured in New Resonance 11: Emerging Voices in English-Language Haiku and has appeared in journals and anthologies worldwide. Much of her inspiration comes from the landscape and people of the American Midwest as well as life with her two small children. Her chapbook, leftover ribbon, (Velvet Dusk Publishing) is available on Amazon. Follow her on Twitter: @adalia_haiku

Guest Editor Craig Kittner was born in Canton, Ohio in 1968 and took up residence in Wilmington, North Carolina in 2012. Between those two events, he lived in 14 different towns in 8 states and the District of Columbia. He has worked as a gallery director, magazine writer, restaurant owner, and blackjack dealer. Recent publications include Human/Kind Journal, Shot Glass Journal, The Heron’s Nest, and Bones. He currently serves as contest director for the North Carolina Poetry Society. Craig is fond of birds, cats, and rain… but rarely writes of cats.

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.

This Post Has 25 Comments

  1. Thank you, everyone, for your kind words and for taking a journey with me through the world of colors and before that through The Haiku Mind. It was my absolute pleasure!

  2. Thank you Tia for this wonderful of colors and the thoughts and emotions they evoked.

    Also, thank you for selecting my haiku this week.

  3. Grazie, Tia, kj e Lori, per aver messo insieme questi molti mesi di poesie e per aver incluso questa settimana una delle mie.

  4. Another lovely selection! Congratulations to all the poets – I am learning so much by reading your verses. Thank you to Tia for another enlightening commentary. I only discovered the Haiku Dialogue just over 6 weeks ago thanks to Tia’s post about the Haiku Prism on Twitter. I am delighted to have discovered it, so many thanks for that too, Tia!

    Again, there were so many verses to admire. I particularly liked the following two…
    *
    scattered sunlight
    in my pocket
    crushed marigolds
    Vicki Miko
    *
    I really enjoyed this image. It’s very tactile and evocative. It reminds me of how finding something unexpected in a pocket can conjure up a random memory and I think ‘scattered sunlight’ captures that feeling beautifully.
    *

    hospice ward
    a shock of marigolds
    on the window sill

    Wendy Toth Notarnicola
    *

    This is so visual and thought-provoking. Are the marigolds bright flowers or are they rubber gloves? If they are flowers then there is a poignant image of vibrant plants cheering up a dying patient – the juxtaposition of life and death is strong and chilling. In the present challenging times , marigold gloves also provide an unsettling image. A powerful verse.

    Thank you once again to everyone for a great read!

    1. Hi Dorothy. The marigolds in my haiku referred to flowers. I’ve never heard of Marigold gloves before, but that’s very interesting. It adds a dimension to my haiku that I hadn’t intended. Thank you!

  5. Another admirable selection, congratulations to all those featured here! It has been a pleasure for me to discover so many unexpected things and feelings associated with this special colour, but I stopped at these two:

    but for the monk’s robe
    silence
    in the old temple

    Michele L. Harvey

    family memories
    the carnelian necklace
    on mom’s skin

    Elisa Allo

    Thank you, Tia, for your work done with passion during these weeks coloured in every nuance of poetry, Thank you, jk and Lori, too, and welcome, Craig!

  6. Thank you Tia, I enjoyed reading your selections to each color theme. Orange, especially….such an evocative word! Everyone took it in such interesting directions! Thanks for finding mine of interest and happy to have made your list.

    …and welcome Craig!

  7. A beautiful, stimulating, great bunch of oranges! Especially struck by:

    *
    silent treatment —
    slicing carrots with
    the carving knife

    Roberta Beary, County Mayo, Ireland
    *
    actions speak louder than words here–and the actions are described in exactly the right, few, objective words. masterfully executed

    *
    another cross
    along this muddy road
    marigolds

    Agus Maulana Sunjaya, Tangerang, Indonesia
    *
    This one stood out because I pass a roadside memorial every day. A man dedicated it to his fiancee, who loved orange. He plants different orange flowers every season, and has put up a cut-out of their dog, with a bright orange ribbon around his neck. I wanted to write about it for this prompt, but couldn’t pare down the reality to three lines.
    *
    orange sunshine
    the flashbacks down
    to a dull roar

    Michael Henry Lee
    *
    another master class in craft–the images, not the words, say tiger and PTSD

    *
    hospice ward
    a shock of marigolds
    on the window sill

    Wendy Toth Notarnicola
    *
    the more I read this one, the more reasons I find for the shock: death is near, and however expected, will be a shock; the shock of normal life going on at the same time death is happening; the shock of beauty amid pain and grief…the shock that any of this is happening at all….

    *
    petroleum flares
    across the harbour
    the orange sea

    john hawkhead
    *
    a stunning reminder of how our carbon-intensive ways have changed the world. No natural sea is orange, and this is not a safe harbour.
    *
    generations later
    lingering still
    agent orange

    Ingrid Baluchi
    *
    as i mentioned in my other comment, this is an essential reminder of how war damages not only humans but nature–the earth itself. Untold numbers of animals and plants were killed with this chemical assault, and many bird species went extinct because of it
    *
    long pause
    we study the insect
    trapped in resin

    Mark Powderhill
    *
    wow–a long pause, indeed!
    *
    Sorry this is our last color–but I know the Way series will be great. Thank you, Tia, for all your work and inspiration, and welcome back, Craig.

    1. Thank you, Laurie, for picking out my poem, and for your comments on the selection, always worth reading.

    2. Hi, Laurie. Thanks for the commentary.

      I spent too much time visiting family members in hospice over the past five years (three deaths). The word shock was deliberately used. It can denote a “bunch” of things, and of course, there is the more obvious meaning: even when you know it’s coming, it is still a shock when death comes.

  8. Thank you Tia for your care in each week’s selection. You have given us many wonderful rainbow of poems for our contemplation. Welcome Craig! Thanks for stepping up once again!

  9. Thanks for the warm welcomes. I’m happy to be back and looking forward to reading everyone’s work.

  10. The column has added the much needed colour to our lives too Tia, rather it has been the sustenance of the soul. Thank you so much for all your work. I have keenly looked forward to reading the poems here each week. Welcome to this side of the bench. Welcome back Craig !

  11. heartfelt thanks to Tia Haynes for all her work on this column over the last four months… & welcome back, Craig!
    looking forward to more marvelous poetry from you poets – thanks as always for your submissions… kj

  12. Thank you, Tia, for commenting on my orange haiku this week, and also for your inspirational sequence of colors that prompted such diverse and fascinating responses. Happy to be part of the rainbow here!

  13. Thank you, Tia, kj and Lori, for putting these many months of poems together, and for including this week one of mine.
    Lots of approaches to the colour orange, including smell, and these few caught my eye especially:
    .
    hair coloring
    best left to professionals
    covid orange
    .
    Christopher Seep
    .
    Well, I had to laugh at this one. I expect there are quite a few growing out their home hair cuts and colour attempts these days.
    .
    A day before flying out to Iran, I had my hair, for the first time ever, coloured to hide a few greys. Done professionally in a salon, it turned out not the lovely chestnut according to the swatch, but a disastrous (to me) carrot/orange.
    .
    Hidden beneath my obligatory hejab, we wasted no time scouring a bazaar, eventually locating a Toni-something languishing on a top shelf, more or less the right colour, but with its sell-by date 30 odd years earlier. Mortified by my brilliant new looks, I took a chance, and all went well, though probably lucky not to lose my scalp.
    .
    I’m amused that some young folks like to dye their natural hair the same grey as mine is now…..
    .
    .
    country cafe
    hunters in orange vests order
    the breakfast special
    .
    Randy Brooks
    .
    Oh, yes… no dog walks on orange vest days!
    .
    French chasseurs deep in the countryside love a tipple while out on a shoot, sometimes as a pre-breakfast prerequisite and especially on a cold morning, though they do on occasion accidentally pick off the odd mushroom searcher, or even each other. Ho hum…
    .
    .
    loosened binding
    of Penguin paperbacks
    classic fall day
    .
    Laurie Greer
    .
    The texts every literature student was supposed to read, these orange bound publishings, instantly picked out in book store and library, denoting quality. Thank you for this reminder, Laurie.

    1. Thanks to you Ingrid! For both citing my Penguins and for your important mention of Agent Orange–which changed the world for both humans and animals–especially birds.

  14. What a wonderful selection of haiku in orange. Two that jumped out at me with a quick first read were the haiku of Jackie Chou and Edna Beer. Jackie for the problem that nothing rhymes with orange just in case rhyming is important in haiku, and Edna for reminding me of the orange that always was in the toe of my Christmas stocking every year. I will be reading them all again as the week goes on as there are other gems as Rehn K. mentions. Congratulations to all, and thanks to Tia for her choices and commentaries over these long weeks. Thanks for choosing one of mine.

  15. Thank you Tia for picking my haiku for commentary last week and this one and for all the hard work! Means a lot! Congratulations to all the poets, great as always and welcome back Craig!

  16. What a wonderful selection, once again. Two that stood out for me were:

    generations later
    lingering still
    agent orange

    Ingrid Baluchi

    orangery…
    we unwrap the scent
    of childhood

    Debbie Strange

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