Anyone who is not an Icebox contributor, who wishes to submit an English haiku, haiqua, senryu, tanka, or (short) haibun or renga, can do so by offering it as a comment on this page. Just type it into a fresh reply box (scroll down to the very bottom of this page) and then click ‘submit’. Please do not submit on someone else’s comment, as it gets confusing. Please submit up to 6 haiku max. 4 times/year if possible in a single comment. An editor might later decide to move your submission onto the top page in our ‘from the Icebox inbox’ posting series. Thank you for sharing here.
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Weeping willow wings
Swinging gently in the wind
Caressing the earth
Sorry it wouldn’t take my password
Thank you Tito, Ulla Bruun
in the beaks
of birds
all-you-can-eat
from Venelina Petkova, Sofia, Bulgaria…
my mam’s Red pelargonium
does not stop blooming
Have I been a flower, too?
…
seagulls cross
the night skies
and laugh at me
…
awake through the night
as if sad the cranesbill
awaits the dew
…
my breath …
I ask the dandelion in my mind
“Do you know how one dies?”
Venelina, you may be pleased to know that fellow editor, Gerald, has chosen your ‘seagulls cross’ for the latest Icebox inbox, which you can now see published on our top page.
Thank you! I am very sorry for being so late to thank you! Wishing you a colorful October!
aging gracefully
she still expects a note
on Valentine’s Day
spring cleaning
I talk randomly
to the dust bunnies
crossing over the gutter
a spider is weaving a web intently
in the midsummer morning
not taking a rest
An interesting observation Yoshiharu.
1. Maybe line 1 and 2 can be revised to focus on the image that was observed.
over the gutter
a spider is weaving a web
*****************
2. Maybe the new line 1 can be revised to highlight the type or location of the “gutter.”
on a street gutter
a spider is weaving a web
******************
3. Line 3 is the tricky part. (what final thought/ experience to share?)
a. the midsummer morning / the hot morning sun /
b. a delicate/intricate bridge to its future
c. ???
4. I don’t think line 4 is needed
Thank you very much Gerald.
I revised my haiku.
a spider is wearing a web
on the irrigating a rice paddy —
midsummer morning
a silk spider spinning a web
just like building a lovely bridge
across the gutter
over the gutter in midsummer
a silk spider spinning a web —
just like building the bridge
near the shrine
over the gutter
a silk spider spinning a web
just like building the bridge
in the future
Black bird:
In the summer night
From the rooftop of the house
A bird is singing
Yellow as a sun-beam
Black as the wood burned by fire
Deep sounds of sweetness
The bird is in it self
song and body like a haiku
mirrored in my soul
North Sea:
Thundering North Sea
Silver sand swirls like snowflakes
Hurting eyes and skin
My soul flies with birds
Washed clean by sand, wind and salt
Purified and light
Goldfish
“Do you remember this place” I ask. We had stopped here many years ago when we travelled on this road. This road was not a highway then. And there was a small toddy shop here, at this place.
“Oh yes. And we had some weird fish fry and then you had an upset stomach. “
I open the menu card. It reads indian chinese continental cuisine. The restaurant is empty.
“The corona lockdown sir” the waiter says sheepishly.
Self isolation-
the aquarium goldfish
stares at me
Manoj, the final haiku in this haibun has been selected for inclusion by fellow editor, Gerald. The latest ‘from the Icebox inbox’ posting includes it on our top page.
Thank you Tito and to Gerald. Really appreciate it. Best
Newborn
A daughter is born yet again.. My paternal aunt cries . She wanted a son to be born after two daughters.Dad is all smiles. He says he is happy as the child is healthy. My mother looks tired but happy. My new born sister smiles at me and I fall in love with her. It’s my sixth birthday the next day and I am excited.
memories
I read about wormholes
yet again
overripe figs
a screech of starlings
squabbling over worms
.
rice paddy scarecrows
sporting lookout tree frogs—
slight shift of shoulders
.
delicate pink fringes
a field of cosmos
with skirts in full swirl
.
autumn berries
crab spider sentinels
lying in wait
.
weathered barn
a blush of virginia
creeping over rust
.
bruise-blue skyline
dashing back and forth
surf and sandpipers
a grey heron
walking magnificently —
flew away by metallic sound
I adapt my haiku.
A grey heron
going down a hill slowly —
flew away by window sound
A grey heron
going down magnificently —
flew away by a cracking noise
Have selected this one, slightly edited, for the latest Icebox inbox posting. I think it works well like this, but feel free to ask for further changes if you don’t agree. Thanks for offering us this haiku!
3 inbox submissions just received by email from John Parsons:
sheep’s trough cistern
a hoard of midges
swarms up
bird wings above
like my heart
miss a beat
purple loosestrife
stillness of a heron
in Autumn sun
after heavy rain
the scent of jasmine—
hunter’s moon
dark trees fly past
but a blue august moon
rides with me —
night train
breaking barriers
growing through concrete
the peepal
frozen lake
our differences
irreconcilable
chool carnival
I relive my childhood
on the Ferris wheel
summer noon
to the sound of cowbells
outside my home
Have selected ‘summer noon’, slightly edited, for the latest Icebox inbox posting. I think it works well like this, but feel free to ask for further changes. Thanks for your creative support. Where are you in India?
Hi, I am in Delhi.
Cloud from window
Teenage son on laptop
My childhood memory
No laptop
Play with cloud and sky
No tension
“Life”
Listen to breath
Birds flying
No Breath, Birds still flying
home from Somiedo
i can still hear the cow bells
ringing
walking in the rain
Halloween sunday morning
not another soul
twilight in Salamanca —
a cacaphony of birds
all the way home
between mossed trees
white turn arrow on asphalt
points to the moon
Have selected two of these for the latest Icebox inbox posting. Thanks for your continuing creative support. Happy New Year!
I try to hold her
But she slips away from me –
A cup of tears breaks
—
Magpie sang at dawn
A Forever Fairytale
My love died at dusk.
—
Colorful Silk thread
Thrown all across the vast sky
Dusk – a weaving wheel
Have selected the last one, slightly edited, for the latest Icebox inbox posting. I think it works well like this, but feel free to ask for further changes. Thanks for your creative support. Where are you living in India?
Sure, Thank you so much Tito :) Such a great news at the starting of the year.
I live in Bangalore, India. Wish you a very happy new year to you Tito & the Icebox family.
sunflower bee
painting of a working day
captured silence
…
glacier moan
victim of the deepest
man white fears
…
sea birds choral
when you come slowly
to flood my spaces
…
without strings
breathing an air
free of larks
…
city gardens
in a crowded afternoon
daffodil lament
…
lost look in the mirror
patiently trying to
recognize herself
slender and supple mum
of the wild grasses and plants —
in the red Raku ware
some slender chrysanthemums
of the wild grasses and plants —
in the red Raku ware
divide by seven
the hellish period after
decimal comma
When will it be published?
It is up there on the top page now! I’ll always remember the plum milkshake I once had in Mohan Singh’s Market in New Delhi. Also, Humayun’s Tomb, where they were cutting the grass by lawn-mower pulled by a cow. So peaceful and symmetrical.