Submissions 4 – frozen

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62 responses to “Submissions 4 – frozen”

  1. light mist
    among the wisteria
    a hummingbird whirs

    snowdrift
    against a blind man’s cane
    the smell of wet asphalt 

    tidal bore —
    my shadow brushes the tip
    of the willet’s beak

  6. A haiku sent in via email by Tom West:

    Twinned table-topped hills
    Frame two primordial bays –
    The cook chars paprika

    Glendale, nr Dunvegan, Scotland (19/6/15)

  7. Left alone
    the peasant and the field –
    finally at rest

    …..

    Sa moeng rd, near Chiang Mai, Thailand (02/07/15)

  8. summer morning
    birdsong echoing from
    forested hills
    ***
    winter storm
    sweeping white roses
    off twins tombstone

  10. frosty evening
    I chant for us
    walking through forest
    ***
    autumn wind
    carry maple leaves
    across untrodden path

  14. grandmother’s room
    devoid of knick & knacks
    but a Christmas rose
    *****

    winter evening
    a frosted Buddha
    awaits for sunlight

    • Thanks for these, Payal. ‘grandmother’s room’ chosen for inbox 37. Used the normal English ‘knick-knacks’ (hope that’s OK). Please see footnote about the Christmas rose: am I correct in my assumption?

  15. (posted for Kamome)

    Dear Tito,
    As the world’s greatest champion of the unprolific, I ask you to accept this modest effort. I haven’t committed anything to paper for ages, though some haiku and senryu have been floating around in my head for a while without me being able to pin them down. I have also composed a tanka, but it is too bawdy to send, let alone post on the site. Here, however, is something that is acceptable:

    Charity shopfront –
    Woodworm holes in the handle
    Of an old man’s cane.

    I follow your work on Mt.Ogura and your activism with interest. Give my regards to all who remember me.
    Yours,
    Kamome

  16. from over the hills
    the lowing of a cow
    bulrushes tall
    in the pond　(June, Mineral Point)

    Stained glass autumn:
    Blue sky beyond
    Bare black-limbed oaks,
    Their fallen leaves carpeting the grass,
    And gold orange red maples　(November, Rennebohm Park)

    Moon slightly waxed past half
    clean in the pale blue
    of November first morning sky　(November, Madison)

    (Jane Wieman, Wisconsin)

  17. their dance
    learned from flowers…
    black butterflies

    first cuckoo…
    a slight hesitation
    in the nun’s prayers

    Times crossword…
    I swap my fountain pen
    for a pencil

    cloudburst…
    running feet mirrored
    on the pavement

  22. Six years in the north,
    And my London-born mother
    Lets slip a flat ‘A’ (1).

    Cooking for Mother –
    After decades of control,
    Her kitchen, revealed.

    Shallow lake stretches
    Between the rec (2) ground goalmouths –
    Cotton wool clouds pass.

    (1) A point of pronunciation, common in the north of England but not in the south; e.g. /fotograf/ rather than /fotogra:f/.

    (2) rec = recreation. In the UK, the ‘rec’ is the name often given to a grass-covered sports ground available for the use of the general public.

  26. pre dawn
    sound of temple bells
    wake up the beggars
    *****

    autumn moon
    cradling in its blossom
    memories-old and new

  29. passing a rocky path
    a farmer
    sound asleep

    family portrait —
    ancestral house behind us
    fading

    Baguio by night
    street food and old clothes
    keep me warm

  31. bare branches –
    I carry the bin across light
    scattered on gravel

    spring tree grows
    against its old bark
    shot echoing …

    breakup by mobile message –
    whirlpool
    in the bathroom sink

    the marina
    cluttered with yachts
    suddenly a clink!

    paddling
    dead skin sloughs off
    my red feet

      • Thanks, Tito, for including my haiku in Inbox 39. Yes, “stoops” is the word for a kestrel’s aerial dive as it seeks its prey.