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Our 2023 Haiku Competition is on now HERE.
WHO
Anyone in the world, of any age or background, may participate. Among members of the Society of Classical Poets, everyone including Advisory Board members may participate, if not involved in judging the contest. The winner, if not resident in the United States, must have a PayPal account or a bank that accepts US checks, in order to receive prize money.
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PRIZE
$100
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JUDGE
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WHEN
Now until August 15, 2022. Results to be announced August 30, 2022.
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WHERE
Post your entries in the Comments below.
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WHAT
Each competitor may submit up to three haiku of traditional form: three lines per poem with 5 syllables in the first line, 7 syllables in the second, and 5 in the third. Entrants are recommended to conform to other traditional haiku requirements outlined HERE. They should be new poems, written since the closing of the 2021 haiku competition. Although this competition is held in summer, haiku dealing with any season are acceptable.
If you want coaching on haiku features, please read the examples and explanation before submitting your entries. Once entries are posted, they can be revised or withdrawn ONLY by making another Comment. This is permitted until the competition closes, but do take reasonable care to complete work to your satisfaction before you enter it. Please do not use the Comment area as your scratch pad. That is discourteous to other competitors, to interested readers, and to the judge and will disqualify you.
Entries that do not meet basic traditional haiku requirements may be deleted. Anyone who submits more than three entries will have ALL his or her entries disqualified, unless excess entries are clearly withdrawn by a later Comment.
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PAST WINNERS
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Saturday night I
washing everything in sight
retire lonely.
Waiting to dilate
in the eye-doctor’s office
Argus to Oedipus
Feasted it withers
fasted it fattens: for love
forfeit is surfeit
disdaining either
fight or flight, finch sits a fist
on the barbed wire fence
autumn leaves shimmer–
the world is awash in a
concerto of colors
bright headlights blink by–
fireflies soon swallowed up by
omnivorous night
A cerulean sky
Pricked by a gold flecked forest
Where the sun hides lies
Covid Crises
We demand answers!
Oxygen concentrators
Still stuck with Customs.
Planes land with supplies.
Despite the scramble, no one
Gets aid they must have.
Pain, tears and anger,
Loss that belongs to us all.
How much can be borne?
The butterflies dance
Amongst the purple flowers
Bees sing them a song
The heart’s jar, empty
Experience fills it up
To the brim and more
The morning dew drop
Nature’s magnifying glass
Wonders to behold
first sign of winter
a sudden sprinkle of snow
settles in her hair
a ghost moth cocoon
filled with the scent of jasmine
and all our sorrows
solo sentinel
the blue heron reflecting
at the water’s edge
fog wisps wreathe dawn’s peaks
indolent sun sleeps past noon
Pasadena spring
***
iris on the brink
of bloom sometimes hesitates
spring is full of caprice
this winter solstice —
the only embers we see
on night’s cigarette
crickets retiring—
her call for help too
becomes dead silence
suitcase of summer;
a letter to solitude
in the blooming trees.
a key phrase, thank you
a heart lifted from the break
sudden turnaround
packing box, moving …
the chirp of a lone cricket
on my window sill
~
the fading fragrance
of freshly laundered curtains
heaviness of heat
~
an old memory
yellow leaves falling slowly
upon the river
Beckon for the ink
Fools dance under the dead stars
The sun is raptured
Parade birds drift south
Meaningless meaningless time
Awake me in spring
Falter to the soil
The trees could die in great flame
Yet lives beneath nail
A girl of seasons
Watch her burn and bloom and freeze
Slowly melt away
First breeze of autumn,
welcomed by parched plants and land.
Refreshing their hope.
See the glaciers shrink?
Alarming in time-lapse films!
Wading through puddles.
Ceaseless rolls of waves
Gull squawks heard above the crash
Menacing and free
With spring, death comes too.
Visiting next door, and then,
I judge the silence.
How dare the mums to
Bloom when all else dies in fall?
The audacity.
Lonely house, silent
Except for soft cat feet and
Vibrating crickets.
nearing summer’s end
the earth marches on, wrapped in
winter’s cold embrace
pressing thoughts clamor,
the roar of the waterfall
drowns all worries
a choir of crickets sings,
performing for the night
the same lilting tune
A dark-eyed brown hued
rabbit sits calmly in our
back yard, eating grass
A doe emerges from
the tree line; we watch her from
a silent window
See-through dress of gauze
Pond water teases my toes
Foreplay of moonlight.
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Turn your eyes to me
I too am lonely, you see
on the old park bench
Parched dirt slurps soundly,
Supple plants bend in the breeze.
Uproar; cry of relief.
Loungers rush inside.
Sulfuric scent, stellar cracks.
Grey beads, branches bouncing.
Big, bawling heavens,
Trembling figures…in…out…
It’s the farmer’s joy.
Raindrops fall with the
mathematical precision
of abacus beads.
I am a geisha:
you, my lover, gone to war.
Crimson blossoms fall.
A peony floats
upon the still, blue water.
Or is it the moon?
The winds are blowing,
A lot more than they used to.
I used to have you.
Perfect, graceful, smooth
Dance is everything you aren’t.
But it’s all you have.
As a raindrop falls,
A thirsty plant awaits it,
Raindrops are not fools,
An owl hoots at night,
Not in anger but laughter,
Night time is a hoot,
Wisps of smoke at dawn,
First morning light reignites,
The fire burns again,
City heat mirage
Cooper’s hawk reflects in pane
Distorted nature
Monsoon Earth is chopped
Partially lit by the sun
Half under shade clouds
Spring embellishments
Wild eggs decorate cup nests
Flowers adorn fields
Autumn falling down,
trees crying leaves of orange,
darkness kills the sun.
The biting cold slap
stings from your winter demise.
Alone with the ice.
cedars stand and smile,
welcome the autumn winds while
green fields bid farewell.
evening burns slowly
air thick, sticky with remnants
of summer’s caress.
this winter solstice —
the birthing of fierce embers
on night’s cigarette
crickets retiring—
the silence of dawn lingers
her call for help too
summer holiday;
in the blooming flowers
first signs of beauty.
Please this is an edited version of my previous submission. Do disregard the previous comment and consider this. Thanks.
this winter solstice —
the birthing of fierce embers
on night’s cigarette
crickets retiring—
the silence of dawn lingers
her call for help too
summer holiday;
in the blooming of flowers
first signs of beauty.
Samuel, I take this last set of three haiku as your entries. Thank you.