Kavita Ratna

autumn twilight

train windows morph

into mirrors

—Kavita Ratna

Ravi Kiran

enough space

inside the coffin

her favourite book

—Ravi Kiran

one leaf at a time

a maple unveils

the sky

 —Ravi Kiran

Alvin B. Cruz

not if but when autumn leaves

—Alvin B. Cruz

komorebi

the warmth of her

side of the bed

—Alvin B. Cruz

Thomas Landgraf

just when

i want to sleep in

a magpie

—Thomas Landgraf

Ann Sullivan

 lilac sunday

    how quickly

          it passes

—Ann Sullivan

mum's sewing bag

threading her needle

thirty years later

—Ann Sullivan

Bipasha Majumder (De)

war news

the bare boughs of

a cherry tree

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

Pippa Phillips

mountain path—

a loose stone 

in my thoughts

—Pippa Phillips

Christine Forbes

winter greenhouse

the hush

of sleeping seeds

—Christine Forbes

Jerome Berglund

buried 

up to neck 

beach reading 

—Jerome Berglund

Paul Lobo Portugés

moonlight falls

the young widower 

crying for his cat

—Paul Lobo Portugés

Oscar Luparia

seed catalogue

in his hands

next summer's stories

—Oscar Luparia

(in memory of my father-in-law)

Chen-ou Liu

the time it takes

for my aging beagle

to close his eyes—

crumbled dog-treat pieces

left in my jean pocket

—Chen-ou Liu

Thomas David

sudden downpour 

the stone buddha 

still laughing

—Thomas David

passing fog—

seeing the forest

through the trees

—Thomas David

Douglas J. Lanzo

silence

a wren pauses

by its empty nest

—Douglas J. Lanzo

Laurie Greer

common violets

a churchyard strewn

with twilight

—Laurie Greer

Gopal Lahiri

half-moon—

the shadow walks

with my valentine

—Gopal Lahiri 

evening gloom—

another day

of blank pages

—Gopal Lahiri

Belinda Behne

a mockingbird

alights on frozen reeds

still singing

—Belinda Behne

Audrey Quinn

scratched inside

an old notebook

his name

—Audrey Quinn

Mile Lisica

light rain

in a small tulip

the butterfly hiding

—Mile Lisica

Janet Ruth

chemo leaving her cold the blanket flower bouquet

—Janet Ruth

Earl Livings

just sitting…

the twirling slowness

of leaf fall

—Earl Livings

We're back (but submissions aren't, yet!)

Dear community,

We'll be going through the haiku we received this year in the submissions window over the next week. Submissions remain closed for now because we have a large backlog to get through.

Thanks for your support and patience.

Best regards,

Timothy & Oana 

Immigrant Gifts, a haibun by Ingrid Bruck

Granddaddy Uno speaks chipmunk: they eat bread from his fingers. Nana Aili is trilingual: sew, knit and crochet. Aunt Mary speaks bird: when she walks outside, a white ibis follows her. My mother Alice, fluent in three languages: books, babies and men. 

My immigrant grandparents from Finland brought special talents. My mother Alice's gifts are different from the other's. She asks her sister Mary, "Do you think I’m adopted?"

tarnished thimble

the winter landscape

empty

Artur Zieliński

her smile

far off on the train

sparkling moon 

jej uśmiech

daleko w pociągu

iskrzy księżyc

—Artur Zieliński

Patricia Carragon

crystal glass—

another year

retires

—Patricia Carragon