Better Than Starbucks Haiku Poetry Magazine July 2019

Haiku

with Kevin McLaughlin

“But with a little more familiarity you realize that haiku poetry excels in one of the rarest artistic virtues, the virtue of knowing when to stop.” –Alan Watts

“Brevity is the soul of wit.”

Hog ruts in the sand:

I gaze at the lake’s far shore,

Leaning on my staff.

Critique: The verse lacks a strong kireji, or cutting word (see archives November 2016), juxtaposition, and an adequate seasonal referent. The piece has a strong senryu component.

Commentary: Sean Yeats leaned on his bamboo staff and thought fondly of the Holy Fools and Crazy Wisdom sages for whom the lake is Buddha, the pines and saw palmettos are Buddha, and the hog ruts are Buddha. Leather ferns and the bromeliads growing on the palm’s limbs are Buddha. Mind is Buddha, and the Mind is without walls, thought Yeats. All religions and philosophies enable the practitioner to glimpse the Divine. Pleasant, thought Yeats, so pleasant, he reflected, but for me, not today.

Even on slack tide,

Waves lap against the slack tide:

Piercing osprey cry.

K. McLaughlin

Diane Lowman writes haiku that vividly light up the section of the brain that loves colors. Her first haiku is a beautiful mood piece.

Slow ghost call tonight

Wondering what’s up ahead

Wandering down back

Fall colors painting

The face of the landscape like

Sephora lipstick

Siren light slivers

Pry open the sky; whispers

Beckon me from bed

Diane Lowman

Joan C. Fingon is a true lover of reading and haiku. Ms. Fingon instinctively identifies the thing-in-itself. We always welcome her contributions to BTS.

thunderstorm

a bird shivers

beneath a pine bough

thunderclouds

wet footprints in the hallway

umbrella drips in the stand

a yellow leaf

ignites in sunlight

putting on a show

wisteria

on a white trellis

purple waterfall

a honeybee

staggers from a juicy blossom—

drunk with pleasure

Joan C. Fingon

Bruce Levine, a native Manhattanite, has spent his life as a writer of fiction and poetry and as a music and theatre professional. He has written four novels. His work is dedicated to the loving memory of his late wife Lydia Franklin.

There’s the ocean green

Sail boats slowly drifting by

Waves break on the beach

New York in winter

Cold with snow and freezing ice

Thawing toward the spring

Piano music

Tunes to savor all alone

Tunes to share with friends

Passing days of yore

Filled with joy and happy times

Mem’ries still retained

Bruce Levine

Mercedy Howell from Bellevue, Washington, has penned stories and poetic musings in many journals. She is devoted to her dog Poppy. Many of our contributors have a special love of the animal kingdom.

trees bathe

in silent mist

winter sleeps

in the ink black forest

a square of light

someone is home

ring around the moon

so bright I see my shadow

as I walk

firewood in rows

chopped and stacked to warm my toes

one hickory tree

flirtatious nuthatch

acrobatic puff of fluff

entertains me

Mercedy Howell

Yet once more I encourage all haiku writers to share their work, their insights into the nature of all things, with fellow poets and BTS readers.

For those interested in haiku, I recommend you cast back into the BTS archives and reference the September 2016 column. It provides a pretty thorough explanation of the basic format.

- Kevin Mclaughlin

Richard Rose, a British writer, teacher, and researcher, has contributed four haiku that can also be appreciated as a linked verse. Significantly, his play, “Letters to Lucia,” celebrating the life of Lucia Anna Joyce, has been performed at her grave in Northampton on Bloomsday.

Snow blankets the field

Green tips of grass cannot escape

The whiteness forbids

Icicles hang in trees

Frail branches quiver in the wind

Spindrift dusts the air

Sharp winds rouge my cheeks

Icy teeth gnaw my finger tips

Breath clouds drift and swirl

Winter takes command

We are nothing before its might

Will spring soon return?

Richard Rose

John Rowland from Jacksonville, Florida, expresses a beautiful wistfulness regarding places where he has lived that possessed sharply defined seasons.

When fall breezes blow

I miss the Autumn colors

Here in Florida

Red, orange and gold

Mirrored in the lake’s surface,

Only memories

John Rowland

Shreya Narang, a haikuist from India, understands the silent world that lies beneath all phenomena, speaking for the deaf in her first haiku. Her second poem is masterful.

silent world . . .

he asks what he

sounds like

I try to glue leaves

back to their branches . . .

temple’s gate

(Autumn leaves collect at the doors of the temple.)

washing plates

with her tears . . .

a girl of ten

(Poignancy is a celebrated haiku quality.)

Shreya Narang

Angie Davidson reflects on the beautiful notion that our planet has a double, out in our galaxy, which just might be populated by our own doppelgangers! She presents this with a profound meditation on the aging process.

Earth’s doppelganger

Rotates around distant star

Within Milky Way.

Echo of trains pass

Down tracks of our aging minds

Parent lost in thought.

Angie Davidson

Joseph Davidson reflects on the flow of birth, old age, sickness, and death. He has keen insight into the impermanence that permeates all existence.

Restless and dreamless

Second hand a creeping thief,

Rooster chants for sun.

(That third line is sublime.)

Suspended in air,

Ever falling groundless flight,

Oak leaf caught in web.

Raindrops and window,

Refracting light obscures view,

Reflection of years.

Joseph Davidson

Haiku about turtles are one of the most enjoyable subjects, and Robert Wooten’s contribution is one of the finest. Superb image.

a turtle crossing

a road on an interstate

a step at a time.

(I enjoy the measured pacing of the turtle’s gait.)

Robert Wooten

Ingrid Bruck’s first chapbook, Finding Stella Maris, has just been released by Flutter Press. She lives in Pequea, Pennsylvania, where she feels, and writes about, nature’s rhythms.

speaking in tongues ~

the cicadas outside

my family church

tide

breaks the morning sun

on the river

lost in snow

before brush meets paper

toad sleeps underground

crest of night fades

birdsong blurs

in gentle rain

on the driveway

a scatter of feathers

grounded

(So easy to visualize and internalize her haiku.)

february sky

after the funeral

deep in snow drifts

Ingrid Bruck

Hanoch Guy writes powerful, almost overwhelming haiku. The third poem in this set can be read and appreciated many times. His unexpected image of “desert snow” is artistic.

red mud covers

your faded gravestone—

tree sheds lemon

the day is shut—

the point is

to be humble

late desert snow

the wail

of double hump camels

around the creek’s bend

night sun

burning moons

midnight on its way—

heavenly spheres

breathe power

Hanoch Guy

Diane Webster falls asleep jiggling images into a poem. Extensively published in literary journals, she resides in Delta, Colorado.

Two parallel paths of road

curve around lone tree . . .

drive off into fog

Old brick building

still clings to green shutter

waving to gravity

Fallen tree bridges

itself across forest floor . . .

chipmunks sprint

(Delightful!)

Lying on forest floor

dead tree branch

green with moss

Wire fence still protects

house’s charred remains—

snow silences land

Woman in red

swirls across the stage—

blood drops in water

(Ethereal with a hint of the tragic.)

Diane Webster

Ray Spitzenberger is a freelance writer published in many journals, including the Tanka Journal. Mr. Spitzenberger, a frequent BTS contributor, just published his book, It Must be the Noodles. Ray hails from East Bernard, Texas.

afternoon hush

invaded suddenly

by rushing squirrel

wheelbarrow

stacked high with bricks

wheel in mud

homesick

Texas prairie life sun splashed

daughter snowed in

Ray Spitzenberger

Kristine Sarasin was born and raised in New Hampshire and has spent the last four years in Maine. She has a keen appreciation of the outdoors. These haiku were submitted during the cold Maine winter; her seasonal referents are striking.

Fox prints filled with

snow; once rushing water frozen,

now silent and slow.

Frozen over puddles, ponds too,

snowbanks sprawling under

skies stretched wide.

The kitten’s purr is

louder than thunder louder

than the train.

(It is certain Kristine shared in the kitten’s joy.)

Kristine Sarasin

Hadi Panahi is a PhD student in Psychology from Tehran, Iran. Read and enjoy mindfully these haiku combining nature and philosophy.

Do not get enough

of the embrace of the beach

the sea waves

Sometimes it sits

it walks, it runs

the clock on the wall

Caress me

in this cold winter

you, the warm Sun.

Hadi Panahi

Recently BTS has received a number of haiku bearing titles. Inadvertently, the title adds a fourth line, and provides a focus that is better derived from the poem and through the reader’s skills and comprehension, and we prefer that you omit it. Thank you.

Kevin McLaughlin