July & August 2019
Vol IV No IV
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
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Published bi-monthly
Haiku
with Kevin McLaughlin
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“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
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