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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 Once entries are posted, they can be revised or withdrawn ONLY by making another Comment.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who submits more than three entries will have ALL his or her entries disqualified, unless excess entries are clearly withdrawn by a later Comment.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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Humiliation:
the only enduring state
to this graceless life.
the fading snowfall
how it gives into the night
gently but firmly
the glittering ice
reflects the eyes of the doe
an old oak shelter
the shifting snowbanks
along a long twisting road
lingering fox prints
SEASONS
Come wander the dark
Won’t you stay ‘til sun, my spring
Promise never dies.
BROOKLYN
A string of tealights
on a seascape, as each wave
rolls safely to shore.
RADICALS
To seek salvation
is to harvest the desert.
Dry earth cannot grow.
July sun steals sweat
As the pine casket lowers—
Cicadas sing on.
Warm nights ring out,
Insects calling to themselves
Incessant chorus.
Secrets long buried
Beneath the rushing river
Now breathe summer air
I’m not a judge but I love all three. Especially the first. Funeral on a 90 degree day last week; you captured it.
What lies beneath
Above the water
Stillness, below feet frantic
Or maybe at peace
Nuts
Grief, in a nutshell
Consumes my insides and outs
Pervasive shading
Ego
Hi, could you watch me
String seventeen syllables
In gloried measure?
the sky is yellow
it morphs into purple/blue
now late summer dusk
drip, drip, drip the water
pools in the dirt, not the grass
just wait for the sun
not one green leaf left
the reds and yellows turn brown
the tree is naked
Will you walk with me
Through the changing fall forest
Leaves exhale goodbye
A sudden spring wind
exhales pink cherry blossoms
I look up and smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The grey, pewter sky
reveals present location
Southeast Alaska
hiding in the grass
cricket i hear you chirping
let me hide with you
Tiny yellow gears
scattered on summer lawns
raise and lower sun.
Out-of-season snow.
Flame-red tulips sizzle, hiss.
Ashes cover my path.
Some scribe a poem
in the key of wind, of sand.
Some, no font at all.
feathery green leaves
seasonal vegetables
rabbit’s midnight snack
an ant approaches
droplet hanging on a cane
bends it just enough
behind the sand road
field ablaze with wildflowers
lovely with bare feet
a patch of clover
stars deepen the green where two
elderly trees nod
the jungle floor yawns
wakes to drizzles a heated
cloud shakes from its hair
a bucket of sap
lighted by the harvest moon
a touch heavier
A cold blue waterloo
Cry me a river of blood
From wailing waters.
The sun stuns us still
Bird beaks agape silent scream
Living, just about
Tilapia gasp
The skin of the river breaks
They have left their nests
Air dense with water
Begging for the storm to break
Baking pavements wait
thAree of my haiku for your competition. Apologies for being so “last minute”…
Soft unseen sound
Green August apples fall to
Squirrels tiny hands
Drink up the blue sky
I clear the spoils of evening
From last nights table
Watching her drift by
In changing summer colours
Blossoming laughter
John Calvert 2022
departing summer…
a refugee girl changes
the clothes of her doll
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lilacs in full bloom…
the silence before the storm
changing its color
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cherry trees in bloom…
my grandma puts on again
her old wedding dress
Dust of sheer hotness,
Bitter the trace you left in:
Could have been my dream
The Swiss chard wilts, scorched.
Needs it more or less water?
More prayer, or less?
Mosquito-free nights:
dinner alfresco, with talk
of nature’s collapse.
hot red sun breathes fire
as cold blue salamander
breathes water and sky
On Texel Island,
seven thousand nesting terns
die; a boat sails by.