Hello, and welcome to The Haiku Mixer!
Come in, hang up your coat, and grab a drink (1). Out back, there are several walking paths through the tall grass (2) and morning glories (3) that lead to the koi pond (4) and hot springs. Watch out for those frogs (5) and toads (6)!
But I digress. The party is right this way. You are now entering a maze of twisty passages all alike – no, wait, that’s another story (7). You are now entering a ballroom full of mysterious and beautiful people, otherwise known as haiku poets.
Instead of traditional party masks, each face is covered by a single poem. Every poet here has chosen a haiku or senryu that reflects how they see themselves, who they are as a person, or their personal and/or poetic philosophy.
Fifty-two poets answered my social media invitation to come to this online celebration of our poetic selves. Thank you all for making this online party a success. I truly enjoyed reading all of your work, and I have have newfound appreciation for the editors among us who select and collate haiku and senryu for everyone on a regular basis.
See a poem that you like? Be sure to let the poet know in the comments! And thanks for coming to The Haiku Mixer.
the end of mourning neelakurinji
whiptail: journal of the single-line poem, Issue 4 (July 2022)
Akhila Mohan CG
in the same skin
it danced in
Bones, Issue 24, Autumn 2022
I was chatting with my dad about growing older (he’s 87) and he said, “You’re still looking through the same pair of eyes.” So, I guess this is me . . . and my dad. And all of us, really.
wind-spun flakes . . .
a child’s world escapes
the snow globe
Joint Winner, tinywords photo prompt, Issue 15.1 (2015)
I’m always attempting to escape the snow globe or bring it with me on a great adventure.
purple irises . . .
a hint of hose
in the first sip
The Heron’s Nest, Vol. XXII, No. 3 (Sept. 2020)
an old date
breakfast in bed
failed haiku (July 2021)
A lone dog
barking at moon shadows–
only echoes reply.
Mayfly #21 (April 1996)
paper and pencil
I leave a trail of breadcrumbs
for the afterlife
Haiku Dialogue (October 6, 2021)
This poem describes my daily life as a poet—above all, I’m writing to save my soul.
not giving away
the anatomy –
Bones, Issue 23 (April 2022)
This is totally me, elusive and reclusive.
transience . . .
petal by petal
we let go
Winning Haiku, Canada, Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational (2017)
As a formerly healthy person, I have been forced (“petal by petal”) to abandon many lifelong passions to accommodate chronic illness.
for the heart
very small things –
Rattle Magazine (Summer 2020)
Deborah A. Bennett
I identify with the poem I wrote, at the beginning of the pandemic, because it brought me great consolation to believe in the small. To believe in the few. To believe in the particular.
in genetic coding
Haiku Dialogue (October 2022)
Through DNA testing and extensive research, I was finally able to discover my biological father and his side of my heritage.
the butterfly’s shadow
takes my troubles
Wales Haiku Journal (Summer 2022)
This is a very specific moment. I tend towards worry (anxiety?). I was furiously walking on a path, my brow furrowed, my mind on some (now forgotten) concern, when the shadow of a butterfly fluttered on the sidewalk in front of me. Clearly a message and an immediate worry slayer.
his son laboring over
poetry for free
failed haiku, Volume 3, Issue 35 (November 1, 2018)
Partly because of poetry, I’m freer than my wealthy father.
stone carved inscriptions
in dead languages
Commended, UHTS “aha” contest (2020)
The subject of ‘mortality’ threads through most of my work, from the vibrant flush of life to the impending grave.
for the meaning of life . . .
failed haiku, Volume 5, Issue 58 (September 2020)
Julie Bloss Kelsey
I shake the night
from my wings
Kingfisher 5 (2022)
This poem is a haiku earworm that loops in my mind because of the homonym of morning/mourning, the empowerment and synesthesia of shaking the night, and that I can feel my wings when I read it.
white lace wraps her waist
tight binding of light blessings
Throats to the Sky (Autumn 2022)
Katherine E Winnick
language barrier –
so much laughter yet
so utterly alone
Cold Moon Journal (October 9, 2022)
home to office
office to home
Haiku Dialogue (Dec 22, 2021)
Kavya Janani. U
This senryu reflects how I feel about my job for the past 5 years (since the time I joined). I was steered into choosing this career, but I can’t leave now, because I need the money for survival. And it is because of this monotonous routine (home to work to home) that I feel stuffed and as if sucked into a black hole.
low tide I re-forgive myself
failed haiku, Volume 7, Issue 77 (May 2022)
tsuri-dōrō, Issue #11 (Sept/Oct 2022)
Kerry J Heckman
This haiku refers to my sensitive nature, which I consider my greatest strength.
the taste in my mouth
of certain words
Otata, Issue 47 (November 2019)
This is “me” because I have always been fascinated by words and language, and for the past 30+ years I have also collected poems that include blackberries. I gave a presentation once for Haiku San Diego in praise of blackberry haiku; they are one of my favorite fruits and I think one of the most evocative for use as a poetic image.
on the windowsill–
Haiku Dialogue (April 7, 2021)
This is the first poem I had published and the first poem where the concept of juxtaposition and the Aha moment hit me.
all the light
of a boyhood summer
The Heron’s Nest, Volume 24, Issue 2 (June 2022)
the blue moon and I
still standing alone
The Poetry Pea (October 2022)
mad butterflies i turn a blind eyestalk
Heliosparrow Poetry Journal (June 2022)
This poem was inspired by two Issa poems:
katatsuburi chô wa ikiseki sawagu nari
snail the butterfly in a mad hurry
katatsuburi soro-soro nobore fuji no yama
little snail inch by inch climb Mount Fuji
I wrote this as a reminder to myself that my journey is my journey.
binge watching stories on every face
Haiku Dialogue (April 1, 2020)
I love meeting people and getting to know them. But I also enjoy just “people-watching” — you can glean so much through observation. Human behavior is fascinating.
on the personal
Human/Kind Journal #1.1 (January 2019)
The haiku/senryu above is a good signature one for me as I often write autobiographically.
myself seeing myselves seeing myselves who told me I was naked
Bones: journal for contemporary haiku, No. 15 (March 2018)
Prayer, meditation, and cross-disciplinary reading have lead me to a transpersonal view of my life.
her mood rises
with the sun
Stardust Haiku #51 (March 2021)
The darkness of winter wears me down, and discovering the bloom of the first crocus and more sunlight makes me feel hopeful.
I so wish to be a fish
among the fish
The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXIV, Number 1 (March 2022)
This is me, because I love to be in the flow of life’s river—one fish among the multitude!
the slow movement
toward wholeness . . .
Presence 70 (July 2021)
P. H. Fischer
i traveled a moonbeam tonight searching for you
dew-on-line 4 (2002) “profiles in stillness”
Pamela A. Babusci
i am still searching.
I carry chrysanthemums
to my sister’s grave
First published in Presence Magazine (Autumn 2020)
My sister Bridget died when she was very young – this is about my continuing connection to her memory.
another lost night
failed haiku (August 2018)
Maybe I watched too many Ingmar Bergman films years ago, but I learned how to be present for the existential moments in life.
Basho’s frog cut apart in English class
Five Fleas (Itchy Poetry), (September 25, 2022)
petro c. k.
I study and appreciate the past, but I’m always taking things apart, examining and rearranging them into something else hopefully challenging and maybe with a bit of humor.
I open an umbrella
failed haiku, Volume 7, Issue 82 (September 2022)
This poem is about resilience, which is something that has defined mine and many other’s past few years, but it’s also about what it is sometimes like to write haiku. It can be healing. I wrote this poem at a low moment, to bring myself up, and it worked.
school’s out —
a boy follows his dog
into the woods
School’s Out: Selected Haiku of Randy Brooks, (Foster City, CA: Press Here), 1999
Now that I’m retired this is really me.
the uneven path
of my thoughts
Editor’s pick, Stardust Haiku (July 2018)
feeding on rice the zen teachings of my free pigeon
whiptail: journal of the single-line poem, Issue 2 (February 2022)
This poem describes me well as a poet and a person because I love rice and learn so much from my simple pigeon friends living in a huge metropolis.
red candle i enter your narrative
Winner, The Haiku Foundation’s Facebook Haiku Contest (2010)
My life story in 10 syllables and 6 words.
lavender blooms in the cottage of my core
Modern Haiku (Autumn 2022)
Things aren’t as they should be yet I am at peace because I internalize the external positives I want to carry with me and those things are what keep me feeling alive inside.
an impromptu singalong
candle running out
Under the Bashō (April 2022)
Sankara Jayanth Sudanagunta
I see our connection to all living things and this sensitivity shows in how I’m in dialogue with them one way or another in my haiku.
how do you pack
Wales Haiku Journal (Spring 2021)
Being on the move, not feeling centered
erecting landmarks in the field of why
First Published in Under the Basho, one-line section (2018)
every record needs
a second song
Cold Moon Journal (November 18, 2021)
Susan Bonk Plumridge
I have reached my retirement years–but I’m ready for a second act.
the spider weaves
into the web itself
Naad Anunnaad: an anthology of contemporary world haiku
this was the first ku that i composed and i feel that i am exactly like the spider that even when i feel like giving up i am unable to and i keep going with the flow
in my turning
#FemkuMag, Issue 5 (October 2018)
Terri L. French
As I age, and inevitably change both physically and emotionally, the love for what I find beautiful in myself must also change.
a change in the wind
my irritable bowel
failed haiku (September 2019)
first poem —
not in a language
Asahi Shimbun (November 2012)
I discover who I am
outside of us
First place, Golden Triangle Haiku Contest (2022)
I think this haiku describes me and my life journey very well as I have grown, evolved and come a long way from the person I once was.
Who knew who hugged who we were every embrace that ever melted names
Indiannual 3: a literary collection (1987)
William J. Jackson
I guess I like to lose myself in art—the creative process—it makes timeless time fly by. And friendship is like that too.
We’d love to hear from you in the comments. The Haiku Foundation reminds you that participation in our offerings assumes respectful and appropriate behavior from all parties. Please see our Code of Conduct policy for more information.
It is cold, but
we have sake
and the hot spring
so many pathways
through the spring grass
the well bucket-entangled,
I ask for water
walking around the pond
all night long
a frog jumps in
the sound of water
The toad! It looks like
it could belch
Anyone else remember Zork?