May & June 2020
Vol V No III
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
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Published bi-monthly
Haiku
with Kevin McLaughlin
Cast A Cold Eye
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Haiku poets eschew metaphors, similes, rhyming, stock associations with mythology or history, romantic love, extended narratives, and all the other conceits employed by the traditional Western poet. Haiku will never express the drama of Baudelaire’s “Don Juan leaned on his sword / And offered not a glance around,” or Blake’s “Invisible worm that flies in the night / In the howling storm.” The haikuist can admire great standard poetry such as Yeats’ “Cast a cold eye / On life, on death / Horseman pass by.” Beautiful are these lines, expressing deep philosophical truths. But this is not the work of a haiku poet. A well written haiku does not rely on allegory or symbolism. Haiku is simply the Fact.
From the garage eaves,
A fallen wasp nest fragment:
One wasp tends the eggs.
K. McLaughlin
Martin Golan has twice been among the finalists for the Allen Ginsberg Award. He published the novel One Night With Lilith.
The old are autumn
as it spreads its rainbow death
leaves are aged hands.
(Profound truths stated simply that apply to humans and to trees.)
Mountain rock, I drag
this jagged stone across you.
Make you shriek, poor thing!
Father, dead one year,
looked out my window—so bright
was that ancient snow!
Forty winters' chill
has not stilled his startled voice:
“The street’s so bright, look!”
This warm day of spring
on a bench by the river
fur-coated women
Martin Golan
James Babbs from Stanford, Illinois, has employed an inspired haiku floating line. Note his usage of “A strange looking star.” Used in each of his verse, it is not a refrain. This line has a uniquely different function. The reader comes to seek the image, enjoying Mr. Babbs’ focus on that strange looking star.
a strange looking star
up there in the sky
shining down on us
(Mr. Babbs follows the Self and discovers a Star. What could be more satisfying?)
a strange looking star
bending in the river
water splashes on rocks
something we leave behind
reflected in the glass
a strange looking star
sunrise through the fog
a strange looking star
the way she says my name
James Babbs
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Sylvia Semel’s poetry approaches the Absolute, the Wheel of Nature. Her second verse is as fine a haiku as I have ever read. Consider the lilies of the field. Consider the water lily floating slowly by.
sinking sun
swallowed by the earth
this summer day
Previously published in Japanophile.
the water lily
floating by in slow motion;
the still sandpiper
fireflies’ flashes
splashing flora bright;
incandescent night
sand sparkling saffron—
my feet burning from its touch;
gulls walk slowly by
Previously published in Innisfree.
a hot summer day—
the sprinkler is turned on
children shout with glee.
Sylvia Semel
Margaret Tau grew up in rural Delaware where her love of animals, the environment, and the astral world inspires her writing. Her work has appeared in Frogpond and Under the Basho.
still caressing
the leash you left
time for my walk
storm clouds gather
combatants face off
family reunion.
(What a vision! Clouds gather for battle.)
birthmark
born without it
no proof of beginning
Margaret Tau
Milorad sin Nade Tesla Ivanković, Verschez (Vršac,) Serbia, may become a Flashing Dragon themself in these haiku skies. A prolific writer, a volume of their work would comprise a rewarding read.
one pillar pagoda
thousand Buddhas—
aren’t too heavy?
(A thousand Buddhas lifted with one finger.)
summer storm—
a flashing dragon
devours the sky.
cold autumn rain
cowherd warms his bare feet
in the cow piss.
(This is a work that sees only reality, reality stripped of qualities such as pleasant and distasteful. That cow piss is precious.)
moon spying over the beach—
waves muffle the footprints
off the sand.
Bodhisattva
saving all whether microscopic
or macroscopic.
(Bodhisattvas have lovingkindness for all the realms.)
april snow
is melting—
the scent of south prevails.
Milorad sin Nade Tesla Ivanković
​
Julia Rae’s foaming waves and bulbous moon capture the essence of all spiritual paths. Ms. Rae employs the hardness of iron and the softness of sheep’s wool.
Foaming waves leap and curl
Cresting the horizon
Timeless ebb and flow
Bright with sun’s last light
Clouds slant in steps
Towards the heavens
Branches overhead
Orange glow peeks through
Bulbous moon hangs low
A fluttering butterfly
Smack! Against the window
Turns around
(The Smack! of that butterfly is loud enough to penetrate the rocks.)
Sunset rain
Blurry through drops on windowpane
Pastel and petrichor.
Drifting shadows speckle the ground
I look up to see
Shimmering cotton.
Julia Rae
​
John Rowland from Jacksonville, Florida, in perfect 5-7-5 form, has captured the seasonal essence. No sound is necessary. The poet has told us all we need to know.
August canine days
Humidity, Fahrenheit
Numbers are equal.
John Rowland
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Hege Jakobsen Lepri is a Norwegian-Canadian translator and writer. Ms. Lepri writes about a subject seldom addressed . . . food.
cocktail party sweep
the last canapes swallowed
by underpaid help
bird congregation
one chirper’s always ahead—
early bird special
Hege Jakobsen Lepri
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
Sarah Mahina Calvello conveys both a deep appreciation of the world around her and a playful approach to sweets and sensual delights. She offers admirable examples of the “neo-haiku,” poems that stray from my beloved 5-7-5 form.
Ube ice cream
After being too long in the sun
Such a relief
Cinnamon sugar coffee is soft
Hits my tongue and makes me smile
Sweet reprieve
Seeing the ocean again
Makes me remember how you used to
bring me shells back
Weeping and falling long seagrass
(The seagrass loads this beautiful piece with a Zen component.)
I love
When the city is quiet in daylight
So rare
I stare at the moon
Transfixed
Nestled under dissolving mist
A secret
Spilled onto murmuring roots
Over a glass of spilled wine
Sarah Mahina Calvello
​
Angela D. Sargent has written a plant poem that sets a beautiful image and contains just the appropriate measure of philosophy.
​
Dipladenia
Reaching out, holding on
Humans should take note
Angela D. Sargent
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Anita Sahoo is a graduate in IT. She was born and raised in the town of Cuttack in Odisha, India. Currently, she lives in Toronto, Canada. She presents drooping petals that capture the ephemeral aspect of nature.
crack in the sidewalk
a wildflower dances
to rhythm of my puff
droopy golden petals
unfurl once again
—break of dawn
fireflies
flickering lights
amidst a shroud of mist
(Her fireflies are stronger than the beam from a laser.)
star studded sky
gleams with rainbows
on New Year’s eve
first trickle
on barren bosom of earth
—onset of monsoon
Anita Sahoo
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John Merkel lives in Stuart, Florida. He has arrived at the concept of Spiritual Alchemy, wherein an experience, to be valid, must also be transformative.
Fog lifts from lake
Pileated woodpecker
Crying for her mate.
(The shriek of the woodpecker can penetrate the rocks. Great juxtaposition with the fog over the lake.)
John Merkel
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Professor R.K. Singh of Dhanbad, India, has mastered the spirit and the format of haiku.
spider’s network
between two photo frames:
action in silence
(Only advanced souls must be capable of perceiving action in silence. This poem, indeed all of this haiku set, has a vague Taoist quality.)
filling emptiness
waves dance over each other—
the sky meets the sea
wild sugarcane
no animals savor—
aging monsoon
moon energy
fills up the inner space—
call to wake up
darkness of the heart
bouts of quiet clashes:
midnight oracle
she looks ahead
after years of heart-bleed:
harvest moon
Professor R.K. Singh
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Don’t allow your ego or your id to get in the way of a good haiku!
​
Kevin McLaughlin
Haiku Archive
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