Last Chance to Vote in the November 2023 THF Monthly Kukai
This month’s theme:
giving thanks
Voting closes for The Haiku Foundation Monthly Kukai tonight (the 24th) at midnight (east coast time). So make those final decisions and let us know whom you think did the best work this month.
Voting for The Haiku Foundation Monthly Kukai
Shortly after the conclusion of the submission period, an anonymous ballot comprising all submitted poems on that month’s theme will be posted to Troutswirl (The Haiku Foundation blog) on the THF site. Any reader of this ballot is eligible to vote for their favorite poems at this time. A voter may vote for up to five (5) poems per theme. A top vote will receive 5 points, a second-place vote 4 points, a third-place vote 3 points, a fourth-place vote 2 points, and a fifth-place vote 1 point.
Please use the Kukai voting form below to enter your selections, and then press Submit to cast your votes. No other votes will be recognized or honored. All votes must be signed (that is, no “anonymous” votes will be accepted, and the Submit button will not be available until both Name and Email fields are filled in), and no poet may vote for his or her own work. No commentary upon the poems will be accepted or published. Votes will be accepted from the appearance of the ballot on the 18th of that month through midnight of the 24th of that month. Readers may vote only once per ballot. Administrators of the kukai are ineligible to vote.
Note: Anonymity is an essential part of any kukai. If you know who wrote the poem then that entry is no longer anonymous. Please respect the Kukai and do not vote for that entry.
The Ballot
1 | a figure saunters stars behind whisked clouds thanks leave our throats | |
2 | a leaf falls — thankful for the beauty of naked trees | |
3 | a thankful prayer for the one left — dog poop bag | |
4 | a thanks too little too late eulogy | |
5 | a turkey drawn on the steamed window . . . Thanksgiving day | |
6 | after rain All thanks appear blooming land | |
7 | after the windblast two pockets full of ripe walnuts | |
8 | apartment building hall full of cooking smells and chorused amens | |
9 | around the table passing bread made with love | |
10 | aurora sunset . . . my gratitude woven into autumn colors | |
11 | autumn aurora wisps of mist on the river — gratitude is king | |
12 | back for Thanksgiving layers of fallen leaves conceal the driveway | |
13 | bird feeder all empty squirrels giving thanks | |
14 | Birthdays long ago Red carnations Too late to thank | |
15 | Blood filled dew drops fall Basho’s ghost creeps lonely halls Winter approaches | |
16 | bowed heads the silence whispers for the gift of life we . . . | |
17 | budding camellia — caressing once again this baby bump | |
18 | bunch of roses unexpected — house of mirth | |
19 | cancer screening my first breath — after testing negative | |
20 | ceasefire — across the border a double rainbow | |
21 | Children’s day Celebration Street child’s Sparkling eyes | |
22 | chirping parrots around the bird feeder morning routine | |
23 | cleaning the baby’s face and toes a feral kitten | |
24 | closing prayer on the yoga mat a praying mantis | |
25 | cold moon a homeless man’s blanket wraps the stray | |
26 | cold moon . . . to warm a winter moon share the light | |
27 | cold noodles beyond my schoolbooks — my unspoken gratitude | |
28 | Contented hands reach from the crib As the bedroom is softly illuminated | |
29 | dandelions . . . in my folded hands a fulfilled wish | |
30 | day moon I celebrate one more birthday | |
31 | Dear Supreme Being, giving Thanks for all You’ve done, wishing to know You. | |
32 | deep breath — and I close my eyes at the Lilac | |
33 | deep the reed bows before it straightens up one of many days | |
34 | Desert dawn palette Tribal elder sings and chants To the rising sun | |
35 | down on hairy knees the camel gives thanks without thinking about it | |
36 | downpour an amen sigh for a tarp | |
37 | dusty road — my gratitude to the greenery | |
38 | dying dog sipping the bit of water feeble wag | |
39 | Earth’s cycle of thanks like spring rains filling the sea Threatening always | |
40 | empty bowl the depth of a beggar’s bow | |
41 | evacuation — a thank-you note written with ashes | |
42 | fall foliage pumpkin patches in season | |
43 | family gathering memories of childhood grace in Dad’s broad Scots | |
44 | fiddlehead ferns the shape of my gratitude | |
45 | finally, her cold hands on my warm forehead — winter solstice | |
46 | first frost . . . he crackles a request write my eulogy | |
47 | flood of gratitude the spirit freed from the mask | |
48 | food pantry Friday tears of thanksgiving fill a single mother’s eyes | |
49 | for the crows and sky the scent of fresh hunter grass I am so thankful | |
50 | free meal — a heart drawn on a napkin for the chef | |
51 | giving nothing by way of thanks, captain nice fright | |
52 | giving thanks at every orbit . . . autumn moon | |
53 | giving thanks for what we get giving in turn | |
54 | giving thanks grandma is confident with new walking stick | |
55 | giving thanks with his tail — rescue dog | |
56 | Giving Tuesday . . . a homeless shares crumbs with mourning doves | |
57 | grateful for the sunshine of oranges in winter — marmalade | |
58 | grateful that with my poor eyesight I see the soul | |
59 | gratitude — I sweep the floor in prayer | |
60 | gratitude like a lightning eternity will never know we’ve parted | |
61 | gratitude . . . the cat’s purr fills my lap | |
62 | gratitude — they name the baby after the doctor | |
63 | Half eaten cookie the currency of love at the nursing home | |
64 | hand-written letter — from the corner office to my mentor | |
65 | harvest cornucopia giving abundant in need satisfaction | |
66 | harvest moon — decorated with fresh fruit a village church | |
67 | he walks towards me arms outstretched as tears flow | |
68 | healing the breach the smell of pumpkin pie on mother’s cheek | |
69 | her flock of turkeys and she will have a vegan Thanksgiving again | |
70 | her knife makes a cross on the bread before slicing | |
71 | her Tapback heart touching mine | |
72 | his war on his cap the old vet giving thanks | |
73 | horn of plenty . . . overflowing with handwritten notes | |
74 | humble boiled peas and beans amen | |
75 | i smile stray cat purring next to me | |
76 | Imagine the geese flying south Honking Thanks thanks thanks | |
77 | immediacy — recognition of help not a hug not smile | |
78 | In dismal solitude. Does time fall. In loneliness thanks | |
79 | in the birdfeeder extra sunflower seeds the squirrel bows | |
80 | in the city — feeling grateful for my shoes | |
81 | it happened again i woke up hot damn! | |
82 | Last drink of nectar, then the hummingbird flies south, whizzing by my head. | |
83 | liberating an entangled puppy licks galore | |
84 | little Ganesha under the spreading banyan a shower of thanks | |
85 | marsh warbler ushers in the morning giving thanks | |
86 | midnight prayer weaving her gratitude and long list of pleas | |
87 | mom lifted herself up to sitting gratitude list | |
88 | mom’s recipes without her this year thanksgiving dinner | |
89 | Morning coffee brews, Autumn whispers in the air, Day unfolds gently. | |
90 | mushrooms . . . thanks | |
91 | my dry field for every tear of sky giving thanks | |
92 | my first walk . . . i become a walking stick for his last | |
93 | my leftovers for a sunflower . . . her urchin grin | |
94 | my shadow caressing the grass wheelchair walk | |
95 | namaste i bow to the one within | |
96 | Native people help Pilgrims find solace with them This must last forever | |
97 | nightly visits gazing at the stars cornucopia of light | |
98 | nursing home the warmth of a visit from a distant son | |
99 | old mother from the window of the house hand of thanks | |
100 | old rocking chair . . . the burp of a newborn in granny’s ear | |
101 | one in seven mammogram results no indication! | |
102 | open air theatre the backdrop for many childhood productions | |
103 | orange dahlia I thank him for noting my luckless prayer | |
104 | Our window of hope: The sunlight bounced off the wall, Hope is still around | |
105 | Pink chemo hat with sequins. Short hair peeking out. Thankful survivor. | |
106 | post divorce . . . new home new start | |
107 | receive with the right hand engraved with a smile thank you . . . | |
108 | Red Moon the last meow of our cat soundless | |
109 | repaying a kindness rosebuds tucked within each page | |
110 | saved willow the morning after the storm weaves a melody | |
111 | saying grace — the little girl bursts into song | |
112 | scorching noon a homeless man thanks every cloud | |
113 | see with new eyes — I close my eyes | |
114 | sensing Shiki’s shadow is upon the wall I write with reverence | |
115 | shirtless revealing its fullness tonight’s rain | |
116 | so glad I’m not a turkey November moon | |
117 | solitude giving thanks to the moon that he is next to me | |
118 | storm swept over us no trees crashed down, no flooding safe and dry. For now | |
119 | Sudden cranes in my yard. I’m lifted on wings. November. | |
120 | Surround her with love. Hold those life-wrinkled hands close. They let you soar free. | |
121 | Thank you full moon!!! you light my path when darkness engulfs me . . . | |
122 | thank you very much Santa whoever you are | |
123 | thankful for a warm loaf of bread — supper moon | |
124 | thankful for all I don’t have world’s gone mad | |
125 | thankful for being aware mortality | |
126 | thankful for each splash of finch song . . . I leave the bird bath brimming | |
127 | thankful for one burnt ochre leaf in my pocket | |
128 | thankful for secret Thanksgiving ingredients — imperfect produce | |
129 | thanksgiving . . . a fortunate mistake brings them joy | |
130 | thanksgiving another turkey gets elected | |
131 | Thanksgiving dinner a family recipe for disaster | |
132 | Thanksgiving leftovers giving thanks again | |
133 | thanksgiving night calling each star my lucky one | |
134 | Thanksgiving over thankful for the silence | |
135 | thanksgiving to the womb in her, in me | |
136 | the last of kitchen prep scraps for the compost — distant crows caw | |
137 | The light of his gaze In me Forever | |
138 | to each falling leaf for the shade, no longer needed, for letting go — thanks | |
139 | transplant . . . I kneel at his grave | |
140 | twilight sunshower — the pharmacist brings home the widow’s “thank you” | |
141 | twilight turn me around sun’s first light | |
142 | two words larger than all blossoms — thank you | |
143 | Ukraine and Gaza — to whom are they giving their thanks? | |
144 | waking up after surgery wordless gratitude | |
145 | waking up to the dove nest shadow on my shade | |
146 | war refugees — a stray dog gives up to his piece of bread | |
147 | whichever way . . . the birch half yellow or half green | |
148 | wind sweeps away the angel feather clouds she knows me tonight | |
149 | Worshipping the sun Resplendent on the garden bench Grateful rescue dog. |
Kukai Results
On the first day of the following month, results of the tally of the kukai will be announced. The top vote-getters as voted by readers will be posted, along with the number of points each poem tallied, and each poem’s authorship will be revealed at this time. Winners will be invited to select from a list of prizes provided by The Haiku Foundation. The theme for the new month will be announced at the same time, and the process repeated. Poems remain the copyrighted property of their authors, but The Haiku Foundation reserves the right to publish, display and archive all submitted poems for this and other purposes at its discretion.
Congratulations to all our participants!
