National Haiku Poetry Day Announcements: 2011 Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems
Hi Again:
Next we have the award for the best poems written in 2011 according to our distinguished panel. Congratulations to all.
The Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems 2011
gunshot
every pine needle
pointing at something
Gregory Hopkins
The Heron’s Nest, Volume 13:2, June 2011
clouded moon
the sound of her slip
hitting the floor
Ernest J. Berry, Picton, New Zealand
Runner up, British Haiku Awards, published 2011
he brings flowers
the same shade—
bruises
Terri L. French
Frogpond 34:3
back from the war
all his doors
swollen shut
Bill Pauly
Modern Haiku 42.1
calla lily
the sound of a ladder
lengthening
Cherie Hunter Day, Cupertino, California
Third Place, 2011 Harold G. Henderson Award for Haiku
migrating geese—
the things we thought we needed
darken the garage
Chad Lee Robinson
The Heron’s Nest, Volume 13:1, March 2011
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Commentary from the Panelists
“gunshot”
Where is the shooter? What is being shot at? And why? The image of the pine needles vividly expresses this startling assault upon the poet’s senses.
“clouded moon”
That rarity, a truly erotic haiku. The word “hitting” does double duty, for the dropped garment as well as the impact the sound has on the listener-writer. Choice of words in the first line is also refreshingly unusual.
“he brings flowers”
If this is in fact a poem about domestic violence, it manages to convey with subtlety much of the inherent complexity/ambiguity of that situation. Remorse (or denial?), irony, possibly forgiveness––there are many potential layers of feeling.
“back from the war”
Implied: that the subject of the poem lives alone, or has been deserted (or bereaved) during his absence. Conveyed: the frustration of inanimate objects that thwart or obstruct––and all the more so in this context of homecoming.
Each time I met a group of young soldiers at the airport, my stomach hurts. I sincerely hope someday there will be no war on our planet.
“calla lily”
The apotheosis of time-for-a-moment-standing-still. Early summer is doubly evoked, by the flower and by the sound of preparations for house painting or perhaps roof work. The visual assonance of the long-stemmed plant and extending ladder is understated and effective.
A ladder in this haiku may be lengthen upward, but at the same time, I feel the dark spot inside the calla lily and feel the invisible hands push me downward.
“migrating geese”
I migrated to the U.S. with two suitcases. I did not imagine someday I would give up a passport with a chrysanthemum emblem. But I established a new nest and slowly forgot the things I left behind.
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Shortlist
deep summer
on the battlefield
cars for sale
Roberta Beary
clouded moon
the sound of her slip
hitting the floor
Ernest J. Berry
gunshot
every pine needle
pointing at something
Gregory Hopkins
calla lily
the sound of a ladder
lengthening
Cherie Hunter Day
back from the war
all his doors
swollen shut
Bill Pauly
breathless quiet
of a summer evening…
ship in a bottle
Jo McInerney
nightfall…
blowing out
the marshmallow
John Hawk
spring equinox
a worm on both sides
of my shovel
Susan Constable
northern lights…
the scratchy play
of seventy-eights
Michele L. Harvey
Indian summer
mother dyes her graying hair
the color of straw
Tom Painting
on the wings
of black-necked cranes
first snow
Sonam Chhoki
the curve
of her hips –
buttercups
Bruce H. Feingold
the newborn’s hand
brushes my breast –
white camellias
Kathy Lippard Cobb
aftershock
the crack
of my biscuit
Barbara Strang
sun through the ears
of a marmalade cat —
raked leaves
Quendryth Young
migrating geese—
the things we thought we needed
darken the garage
Chad Lee Robinson
what we breathe
in human skin
and insect parts
Chris Gordon
banging about
inside my ribs
cherry blossom
Sandra Simpson
bare trees
the little room
where you’re told
Roland Packer
he brings flowers
the same shade –
bruises
Terri L. French
koi pond
how we imagine
immortality
Paul Watsky
dogwoods
the stench of
baby questions
Amelia Cotter
pan-fried trout
I learn something new
about my father
Dave Baldwin
shanty town—
the jagged edges
of moonlight
Sanjukta Asopka
Father’s Day–
a potato
without a face
Susan Marie La Valle
bruised apples
he wonders what else
I haven’t told him
Melissa Allen
Spring rain
I’ve upset
the little stack of coins
Stephen Gould
his latest indiscretion
I toss out
the curdled milk
Mary Kipps
winter when
the invisible horse
arrives
Scott Metz
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Happy Haiku Day ~~ I have a trio, starting with a Haiku (I think so) and Cameleoning into Senryū by the third verse. Hope this be okay.
http://jimmiehov6.blogspot.com/2015/04/out-with-nature-day-17-of-napowrimo-2015.html
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Many of these are NOT 5-7-5
From what I’ve learned about haiku in English is that it does not need to follow the 5-7-5 format. The Japanese language fits well with this arrangement, but the English haiku is much shorter than the one written in Japanese when the Japanese haiku is translated into English.
Congratulations to everyone, such an honor to be included here. Though I have never personally been the victim of domestic violence, I know many who have. This was written for them.
Congrats to all the winners and the adjudicators for their insightful explanations
–from and also-ran