Haiku Windows

Haiku Windows: kitchen window

 

Haiku Windows

 

In the book Haiku: The Art of the Short Poem, editors Yamaguchi and Brooks quote David Lanoue:  “A haiku is a window”…

In the following weeks we will look at (or through?) the many possibilities raised by this thought – 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 Submit an original unpublished poem (or poems) via our Contact Form by Sunday midnight on the theme of the week, including your name as you would like it to appear, and place of residence.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:  dollhouse window

Now we move further inside – to the interior of a tiny home, to the interior of the imagination… from a handcrafted work of art dollhouse to the plastic fantastic – what is Barbie up to these days?

I look forward to reading your submissions.

 

Haiku Windows:  kitchen window

Thanks first of all to The Haiku Foundation, again, for this wonderful opportunity, and to all who submitted their poems. I couldn’t do this without you! For those whose work has not been selected, it is my hope that after reading this column you will have a better idea of what I am looking for. Please note that I will be sending acceptance emails only – if your poem was not selected this week, feel free to re-submit it if it fits with a future theme, and always include your place of residence!

All of the following kitchen window poems deserve a few words, but I will limit my comments to the following four:

my mother in every kitchen window — Chad Lee Robinson, Pierre, SD, USA

This poem can be interpreted on so many levels – for those of us who had (or are/were) stay-at-home moms, the kitchen and mom do go together. But my favourite reading conjures a child out in the yard getting up to some kind of no-good, and always getting caught in the act because somehow mom appeared in every window – at the same time, even…
streaming sun
 sink bubbles
 in all their glory
 — David Jacobs, London, UK
Here the poet describes a most ordinary kitchen scene – washing the dishes – and isn’t this a perfect topic for haiku? The combination of sun through the window and dish soap takes the reader from the realm of mundane housework to a colourful iridescent scene, and then off through the window of the imagination, maybe following the bubbles on a breeze… until they pop, and then we are back at the sink…
kitchen window
 i share my bit of sky
 with a mountain
 — Sandi Pray
What a clear picture is drawn here – the poet has selected words carefully – “my bit of sky” – tells us a lot about the view before we finally learn about the mountain. Most writers would have described, instead, the mountain as being the subject of the view, rather than this idea of sharing the sky with it, or even losing a view of the sky to it…
over the kitchen floor
 a little moonlight
 a little mouse
 — Simon Hanson, Tamborine, Queensland Australia
Again a surprise with the last line, this time with the repetition of “little”, which is effective. Again the window is not mentioned, but we know it is a kitchen window because of the other details provided by the poet. And what a change in mood (at least for me!) from moonlight to mouse – the ensuing scene, no longer calm, possibly involving a broom…
Hope you enjoy the rest of my selections for this week:
 
post-Christmas
 the kitchen window
 reflections
Alan Summers
 England
 
fox
 through the kitchen window
 winter snow
Alice Barrett
 Goshen, Massachusetts
 
kitchen window
 a moth wing dusts
 my cupped hand
Betty Shropshire
 Texas
 
super moon
 at the kitchen window
 I dry my plate
Bill Kenney
 
cracking nuts
 a squirrel peeps
 through the kitchen window
Carol Jones
 Wales
 
typing dad’s obit
 by the kitchen window
 the woodpecker’s tap
Claire Vogel Camargo
 Texas, USA
 
red flicker
 and cardinal cries pierce
 the coffeemaker’s grumble
Craig Kittner
 Wilmington, NC
 
spring morning
 sunlight through trees
 flickers on herb jars
David Oates
 
looking through
 the kitchen window
 a full moon
Debbi Antebi
 London, UK
 
wolf moon —
 at the kitchen window
 the night and I
Ernesto P. Santiago
 Athens, Greece
 
loneliness…
 no smell
 from the kitchen window
Eufemia Griffo
 
the fingerprints
 at my kitchen window
 home-made cake
Eva Limbach
 
kitchen raid
 the wolf moon lights up
 my stealth
Hansha Teki
 
orange moon rising
 we watch together
 her apron and I
Henry Kreuter
 
bass clef
 the kitchen window reverb
 of 7th position
Jan Benson
 
kitchen window
 through my reflection
 carlights passing by
Joanne van Helvoort
 
the bread is rising
 at the kitchen window
 day moon
Johnny Baranski
 
open window
 whoosh of a fledgling dove
 to our kitchen shelf
Kathabela Wilson
 
farmhouse kitchen
 tomatoes doing nothing
 on a sill
Lee Nash
 Cognac, France
 
kitchen window
 feeding the soul
 through the sky
Lori Zajkowski
 
foggy day
 inside and outside
 the same
lynnej
 
“Yellow Submarine” —
 before the  kitchen window
 a concrete wall
Margherita Petriccione
 
deep blueberry sky
 a scent of muffins
 warms the kitchen
Marietta McGregor
 
place setting
 a robin and a squirrel
 share the bird table
Marina Bellini
 
winter night
 two in the kitchen window
 cheek to cheek
Marta Chocilowska
 
kitchen window…
 the morning sun
 on spider web dew
Martha Magenta
 England, UK
 
soup kitchen
 take-out window
 to the world
Michael Henry Lee
 
Cappon Magro preparation —
 the vapors overlap
 on the window
(a much-loved Italian fish appetizer typically found in the city of Genoa)
Pasquale Asprea
 
by the window
 the morning breeze
 I whisk into eggs
Pat Davis
 Pembroke, NH USA
 
whisking meringue…
 here and there a snowflake
 kisses the window
Polona Oblak
 Ljubljana, Slovenia
 
kitchen window…
 shaping the sky
 through cookie cutters
Praniti Gulyani
 
steam iron’s hiss…
 outside the kitchen window
 the hazy sun
Randy Brooks
 Taylorville, IL
 
a Christmas candle
 in the kitchen window
 sideways snow
Rick Tarquinio
 Woodruff, NJ
 
sympathy cards —
 the kitchen window
 still sticks
Roberta Beary
 County Mayo, Ireland
 
bird table visitor
 the camera flash captures
 mum at the cooker
simonj
 UK
 
warped cedar deck
 in the ongoing rain
 window streaks
Tricia Knoll
 
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 31 Comments
  3. I can’t see the new prompt. Sorry I didn’t come up with something last week. I wam really looking forward to the weekly challenges.
    1. The new weekly theme will be at the top of each post on Wednesday morning:  “next week’s theme”; then you will have until midnight on Sunday to submit on the contact form…
       cheers, kj
  4. Even if late, for personal reasons, I congratulate the choice of Kathrine! Really haiku of great suggestion!, I am grateful to be part of it
  5. Dear poet,
     Greetings!  Delighted to go through the column, so much of talent pouring in. Good luck to you.
     with regards
     S.Radhamani
  6. Thanks to all those who sent in replies – they’re just as much fun as they are instructional.  Thanks to Kathy for including my poem.  Looking forward to Dollhouse Windows!
  8. What an enjoyable start, Kathy! It looks like we’re all in for a fun few months of windows peering into every corner of our lives. Thank you!
     Cheers from Australia,
     .
     Marietta.
    1. Thanks Marietta – I am looking forward to reading more tonight!
       cheers from the chilly (-28*C) Yukon, kj
  10. What a wonderful selection!
     .
     Coming from a large family (nine including my parents) the kitchen was the heart of our home and so many of these haiku resonate with happy memories, visuals, sounds and smells for me.
     .
     This one from Lee Nash made me smile as there was always a row of tomatoes slowly ripening on our kitchen windowsill (which I guess that counts as doing something 🙂 )
     .
     farmhouse kitchen
     tomatoes doing nothing
     on a sill
     .
     Lee Nash
     Cognac, France
     .
     marion
    1. I agree, Marion – the response has been terrific! I liked the contrast here with the tomatoes sitting doing ‘nothing’, in what I imagine is a busy farmhouse kitchen…
       thanks for your kind words, Kathy
  12. .
     .
     Thanks Kathy, for starting off this great feature of windows with a great rap on the single, double or triple-glazing. 🙂
     .
     .
    Like Carol, although I was blown away by so many other fine responses, I kept coming back to:
     .
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     bird table visitor
     the camera flash captures
     mum at the cooker
     .
     simonj
     UK
     .
     .
     I wonder how many old photos of one thing, have caught one of our parents, or both, now lost to us but in these incidental non-posed captures? There is something gently poignant and haunting behind the simple words.
    .
     .
    Chad’s response also had a mother at every window:
     .
     .
     my mother in every kitchen window
     .
     — Chad Lee Robinson, Pierre, SD, USA
     .
     .
     I saw a mix of moving childhood homes (three and a half, if you include my birth mother) so Kathy’s interpretation came to mind. But also, as we ‘grow up’ and leave home, we transmigrate to several kitchen windows, from our first shared apartment, friends, neighbors, leaving for work so many mothers in kitchen windows preparing food for kids or partners.
     .
     So each ‘my mother’ in Chad’s verse is both someone else’s mother acting like his mom, but also that they morph into his perhaps?
     .
     That’s the power of a monoku, there is more to them than any number of onion skins!
     .
     .
     .
     streaming sun
     sink bubbles
     in all their glory
     .
     — David Jacobs, London, UK
     .
     .
     Excellent opening line to this verse by David and a great early memory of washing up liquid creating so many colours. For some of us in earlier times it was washing up liquid that was our first experience of fun bubbles, as we didn’t have spare cash for the toy version.  On another note I’ve been doing the washing up since I was six years old, no one else in the family home would do them! 🙂
     .
     .
     .
     kitchen window
     i share my bit of sky
     with a mountain
     .
     — Sandi Pray
     .
     .
    I am so envious! As much as I’d love to live by the beach, or the sea, or on a cliff as Khalil Gibran did, or by or in a forest, there is something about mountains being part of our windows!
     .
     .
    over the kitchen floor
     a little moonlight
     a little mouse
     .
     — Simon Hanson, Tamborine, Queensland Australia
     .
     .
     Gosh, I remember seeing a field mouse in a Queensland farmhouse, and then years later the Brit version in our English apartment. Moonlight and mice, and humane traps, and then letting them go quietly in the nearby wood near undergrowth to protect them from the owls.
     .
     .
     I wonder if that mouse was one of these? 🙂
     .
     .
     a midnight window
     the quiet sorting of gifts
     by mice for christmas
     .
     Alan Summers
     Lagan Online, Northern Ireland
     30/10/2017
     .
     .
    What a great selection from the four winners, and from the rest of us kitchen window poets. I wonder how many of them do the washing up though? 😉
     .
     .
     Warmest reflections,
     Alan
     .
     .
      1. .
         .
         winter night
         two in the kitchen window
         cheek to cheek
        Marta Chocilowska
         .
         .
         Wonderfully romantic! Due to it being a winter night I can imagine Christmas decorations, perhaps reminiscing but also enjoying the enchantment of this time, and with a Snowball or eggnog drink even. So much is said without telling, delightful!
         .
         warm regards,
         Alan
         .
         p.s. eggnog traces its roots back to English posset, while a Snowball is:
         https://charlotteslivelykitchen.com/a-festive-snowball-cocktail/
        1. Thank you so much, dear Alan for your beautiful comment!
           Is winter night, light in the kitchen is on, and somebody observes the lit window from the outside. This observer was me when I was a childd 🙂
           Thanks for the  traditional snowball cocktail recipy!
           Love
           Marta
        2. & thanks also for the Snowball recipe – I must try it! You would think someone living where I do would be an expert on those…
    3. Thanks for your comments, Alan, & for the further discussion they inspire… I would prefer not to think of the poems I commented on as ‘winners’, though, rather – they struck me in a way that made me want to share my comments on them… as I said, all the poems deserved a few words – but then I wouldn’t get my dishes done…
       cheers, Kathy
  13. A marvellous selection of very visual verses, Kathrine.
     I can certainly see the pictures of simonj’s verse, done it so many times in the excitement of the moment 🙂
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