THF Monthly Kukai Voting Ballot — March 2021
This month’s theme:
reawakening
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.
The Ballot
1 | a friend passed i can hear the dawn chorus for birds — it’s the beginning | |
2 | A leaf bud thrusts out through dry bark | |
3 | A tepid breeze. Has flowered again the violets scent | |
4 | after a long winter inside buds reawakening to hope | |
5 | after her long coma a smile of daffodils | |
6 | after seventeen years cicada awakes to sing her elegy | |
7 | almost breathed last drops of tulsi leaves fresh lease into him | |
8 | at breakfast . . . how sweet is the smell of a freshly baked cake | |
9 | autumn morning old couple hand in hand walk in spring | |
10 | awake composing haiku — the gentle rhythm of her breathing | |
11 | awakened at dawn by an old rooster’s cough | |
12 | ayahuasca truth surfacing what’s been buried healing of conscious | |
13 | birdsongs again i touch a new leaf in the barren tree | |
14 | black locust in bloom — ready for love, not ready, ready . . . | |
15 | blossoming the flower of my expectation steps of the spring | |
16 | bluebells and I push aside the weeds finally vaccinated | |
17 | branching out after a long dark winter . . . first post-Covid walk | |
18 | bud at first sight light clings | |
19 | buds on the cherry tree my two hundred thousand hopes for the future | |
20 | burgeoning light — the resurrection of old koi | |
21 | butterflies this desire for rebirth | |
22 | cherry blossoms burst through winter’s ashes buried no more | |
23 | cicada shells on a red pine trunk the song of summer | |
24 | coloured prayers flap a child-monk saves a goal | |
25 | comfort in touch handshakes and embraces the ant farm angst ebbs | |
26 | crows caw awake another morning rubbing my eyes | |
27 | Cultivate your soul With the same diligence as Checking instagram | |
28 | dancing with a class on zoom after the vaccination — daffodils blooming | |
29 | dawn of March the awakening of cherry blossoms | |
30 | dawn’s fuzzy squint slipping into the mirror’s smile | |
31 | daymoon in my lap the newborn | |
32 | delayed germination the young girl learns to play | |
33 | don’t bud too early cherry tree winter lingers still | |
34 | dreaming at dawn on the wings of a heron — distant bells | |
35 | early spring . . . the old tree gifts the sun its budding leaves | |
36 | empty cocoon — the battered woman gets her divorce | |
37 | empty my cup awaits dawn | |
38 | faith can reawaken forsaken souls | |
39 | family reunion granny hoots choo choo on the baby walker | |
40 | first buds — abandoning sine die the easel | |
41 | first rain . . . the petrichor reawakens scorched dreams | |
42 | first signs of spring . . . a recovering stroke victim’s lopsided smile | |
43 | first snowdrop — caught in the safety net sunshine | |
44 | five hours of assisted breathing new eyes | |
45 | flowers opening to a soft hum of bees gathering light | |
46 | forgotten cemetery — primroses grow on graves and beside them | |
47 | gnarly fingers tangled and dead . . . a speck of green unfolding saves it from the bite of my shears | |
48 | gradually — less and less white more shades of green | |
49 | I watch the flames Gulp my memories of her From an era before the internet. The slate is now clean, a new day. | |
50 | keep walking at the end of the silent hall star . . . | |
51 | landfill next to a pair of boots the first snowdrops | |
52 | laughing like he used to Coke and Mentos | |
53 | lighter days . . . spring migrants building their nests | |
54 | Like snow a crow lands in silence on a winter branch | |
55 | lockdown over the closed tulips spring stars | |
56 | Lone tree keeping watch Over ever changing fields Now winter, now spring | |
57 | Longing for the sky the sun rises through the clouds covered with its blood | |
58 | mail truck — the old hound raises an eyelid | |
59 | mask trampled by spring’s barefoot children | |
60 | monsoon raga . . . the soil’s breath is moist | |
61 | morning shift coffee aromas revive the ER unit | |
62 | moss laden walls — the weight of remorse never leaves us | |
63 | my son wears my old jeans same look but different . . . | |
64 | nesting dolls recalling the many selves i used to be | |
65 | new eruption — Earth has many things to claim | |
66 | new morning light quietly becoming now moment to moment | |
67 | new wisdom rising women inherit the earth peace prevails for all | |
68 | No more getting high The pain of this life — too much It is time to change | |
69 | pandemic peering out from the cocoon once more | |
70 | playing children — my musing on the budding roses | |
71 | points of light in the chill night sky my moon shadow | |
72 | police line in the wind an eternal return | |
73 | prodigal acorn fallen in the shadow the blasted tree | |
74 | Purity of rebirth White breaking through white Snowdrops | |
75 | quack, woof, moo, meow break the dawn spring-ly hurly-burly | |
76 | reawakened all I see is the sky beyond glass ceiling | |
77 | reawakened soul your glistening eyes reveal incandescent hope | |
78 | reawakening . . . in the swarms of butterflies intertwining worlds | |
79 | reawakening . . . my mother prepares food for gods | |
80 | reawakening — out of hibernation the bear resumes his old habits | |
81 | reawakening — Snow White’s apple without pesticides | |
82 | reawakening to what is not mine the passing clouds | |
83 | resting on the couch I dream of golden beaches second dose | |
84 | sign of spring — first crocus shows in white | |
85 | singing birds my mother comes out of coma | |
86 | spring again on mother’s grave purple crocuses | |
87 | spring day awaiting wings . . . the chrysalis | |
88 | spring fever an old woman whistles a bawdy song | |
89 | Spring memory and today my senior years | |
90 | spring morning a restless blackbird breaks the silence | |
91 | spring nap under open newspaper the first mosquito | |
92 | spring rain fell, now gray wanes to green, no longer confined inside | |
93 | spring woods every little thing | |
94 | still creek day one hundred sober | |
95 | Still hearts don’t break madness follows Awaken | |
96 | taking shape a currawong on its branch voices dawn | |
97 | taking the garbage out . . . a sparrow’s song completes the winter daybreak | |
98 | teacher teacher! at last a great tit breaks my writer’s block | |
99 | thaw out of the blue she remembers me | |
100 | the first flowers bloom with faces toward the sun an old love renewed | |
101 | the gusting wind reawakens my wanderlust | |
102 | this isolation . . . the glimmer of a rainbow on morning dew | |
103 | Throughout their lives humans are reawakened to hibernate again | |
104 | tiny crocus moves frozen earth breakthrough | |
105 | tiny plant growing on autumn dry leaves spring showers! | |
106 | to reawaken . . . subconscious mind invites to conscious | |
107 | to the language of clouds we toast | |
108 | tree swing in the neighboring yard memories . . . memories | |
109 | tulips poking through fresh cut grass lingers heavy a day to be born | |
110 | twilight dawn these aha moments after divorce | |
111 | under the hedges watching it move gracefully meow — missing my cat | |
112 | vaccination line — all of the grandpas hitting on grandma | |
113 | Warm spring sun pulls back white winter blanket, daffodils shyly lift their heads | |
114 | warming sun familiar sprouts appear from long isolation | |
115 | watering the droop of houseplants my posture improves | |
116 | whale watching the sea rise | |
117 | winter morning — the sun beams through the shutters a new vision | |
118 | Woke to cut-grass tang and jackhammers pounding fists; Newark re-opening. | |
119 | zen awakening I shoot the first butterfly for this year |
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!
