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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 a U.S. resident, must have a PayPal account or a bank that accepts U.S. checks, in order to receive prize money.
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PRIZE
$100
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JUDGES
J. Thomas Rimer, Professor Emeritus of Japanese Literature, Theatre, and Art at the University of Pittsburgh; former chief of the Asian Division of the Library of Congress.
Margaret Coats, Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University; retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others.
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WHEN
Now until September 16, 2023, 6 pm EST (New York time). The original Sept. 15 deadline has been extended for those in other time zones. Results to be announced September 29, 2023 (corresponding with Tsukimi—the Japanese Moon Festival).
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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.
IMPORTANT: By submitting haiku to this contest, the contestant declares that the poems are his or her own work, and that they were written after July 2022. Please submit using your first and last name, as we may find it difficult to distinguish between contestants who have similar first names.
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 Once entries are posted, they can be revised or withdrawn ONLY by making another Comment.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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Bloody canopy
Exquisite tropical lunch
Of chainsaws and smoke
Vaporizing sheets
Bidding a frozen goodbye
To the glued windows
Palm tree silhouette
Dropping tender coconuts
Hoping to bloom friends
Ye ken a haiku?
Aye lad, a coo up the brae;
Reid beast o’ the mist
Webs
Threads hang deserted
Where the spider left behind
Deserted cobwebs.
Stars
Those stars are gone now
But like battles fought of old
Our eyes see them still.
Light
The light streams constant
But the troubled water throws
Its patterns on it.
[I]
Jousting with needles,
Ablur in this midsummer,
Nectar calls to each.
[II]
Each green creeping thing
Uproots and down roots the moss,
Unfurl fiddleheads.
[III]
Ribbons of white drift,
Transpose pale against shadow.
Crows fly before clouds.
Halo moon in the sky
The silent road’s horizon
Wait for me, My Love
Curling green vines climb
Blossoms are stars of butter
Still no cucumbers
Hot hibiscus tea
Brewed in Grandma’s antique cup
My mouth now tastes sour
Name of the poet: Murad Afrooz Moin
Country name: Iran
City name: Tehran
Type of poem: Haiku
The text of my haiku poem to be published on your site:
Haiku:
“migrating bird”,
before being shot
it was calling so
photosynthesis —
how we are all connected
to each light of love
swans, having cast off
their indigo hakama
share grey skymantle
fully committed
to a life in the fast lane
wing mirror spider
she just can’t help it
always chasing the bad boys
the moth and the flame
bridal bouquet toss
the baby’s breath, as ever
just beyond her reach
glimpses of clear sky –
over a tree shaded lake
azure damselflies
*
childhood memories
a sprouting lentil rises
from the cotton wool
*
winter stars twinkle
the lights of a small village
on the mountaintop
Daniela Misso
year passes
maybe I’m still smiling
in my sleep
autumn evening
on a road sign
a crossed out bicycle
Alex Malley
moon in a puddle
the wet and dark reverse side
of a fallen leaf
The present is the
liminal place between the
past and the future
Place to place walking,
In a time from then ‘till now.
Liminality.
Liminal spaces.
A minds eye perspective.
Liminal places.
(1)
What constitutes home?
If broken fragments and pain—
A mere broken house.
(2)
Our grief is just love
with nowhere to go, bearing;
our heart’s a big weight.
(3)
Shall you come or go?
But if silence awaits still,
goodbye answers that.
hunger fundraiser
cucumber sandwiches and
dandelion tea
standing room only
the bandshell concert features
a solo cellist
one way ticket home
a candy stripped scarf around
the conductor’s neck
leather-winged shadows
a fine powder of moth scales
cascades through moonlight
walking riverwise
to where the kingfisher darts
she colours her story
winging the swing shift
swifts turn over purpling dusk
to the pipistrelles
Light flutter of wings
Casting quick moving shadows
Fleeting gossamer
***
Fallen orchid blooms
Lay still upon the dry ground
Awaiting the winds
***
Gathering at dusk
Swifts prepare to roost on wing
Screams fading gently
womb’s workshop weaves
as a dreaming brain spins, at
random – or is it?
Correction:
a womb’s workshop weaves
as a dreaming brain spins, at
random – or is it?
lack of words
we go on stirring
melted sugar
who we are now
amidst fallen leaves
a candy wrapper
a hagstone
teh heart is open
to the sea wind
Though these don’t follow the syllable-count rules for the contest, I like them all very much, especially the candy wrapper one.
I hadn’t known the word “hagstone” before and I love to learn a new word. That third poem brings me divinely cold wind straight from the Baltic, so good: thank you.
sorry for the mistake
***
a hagstone
the heart is open
to the sea wind
winter’s concert is
silent but for ice cracking,
moaning beneath boots
Sky turns baby blue
Waiting as green hills give birth
To a big, red sun.
Jagged desert crags,
Spear heads piercing starry dark,
Encircle the camp.
Lightning strike at night,
Writing in a bright, white light,
Vanishing from sight.
Scent of cherry blooms
blowing in the morning light…
end of pandemic
Hallucination…
a red butterfly quivers
upon a daisy
Splinters of sunshine
piercing the morning silence…
icicles crumble
Pink skies tinged with blue.
Calm after the hurricane,
water is pink too.
hot golden acre
soil cracks like old parchment
after a long drought
a lance of sunlight
quietly pierces through to
the lush forest floor
swallows swoop fast in
harmony across turbulent
rivers of white foam
[Removed for publication elsewhere]
pleading thin groves
solemn melancholy cry
cuckoos of autumn
Fur grey gnawing out
nutty red-sun tweaks the clouds
no more a squirrel
Tore aside triumph
seashells rolls to the shore side
boats to the blue seas