SHARPENING THE GREEN PENCIL 2025 RESULTS

 Preselector: Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu, Romania

Final judge: Ed Bremson, USA

Comments:  Ed Bremson

 

Thanks to the administrators of Sharpening the Green Pencil (Florin C. Ciobîcă, Ana Drobot) for trusting me to judge their 2025 contest. While reading, rereading, and working with the poems, I soon discovered what a tough job it was. I wish I could give  a prize to everyone, but that’s not the way it works. Best wishes to all who submitted. Thank you for allowing me to read your work. And congratulations to those whose poems appear here. You’re all winners. (Ed Bremson)

 

127 – First Prize

 

between

lightning and thunder

a farewell kiss

 

Sebastian Chrobak / Bielsko-Biała / Poland

 

 

Time. Is there anything more important? Short time, long time, running out of time, more time please. And reading this poem brings up all kinds of questions. How long is the interval between this lightning and thunder? How long does the kiss last? Who are these people? Mother and child? Husband and wife? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Why farewell? What does that mean? All these questions add to the richness of the poem, and I think the poem is an inventive way of poetically dealing with time. I like the use of nouns instead of verbs. Although the structure doesn’t use fragment and phrase as such, it works. And it presents a way of showing instead of telling. And of course, depending on our precise interpretation, it could be seen as poignant. In any event,  I would personally like to see a kireji here, something like an ellipsis at the end: “a farewell kiss…” because this is not the end, just an intimate moment or moments in time passing between two people.

 

017 – Second Prize

 

puzzle piece

the wind's solution

leaf by leaf

 

Dylan Stover / Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio / USA

 

 

This poem does use fragment and phrase, without kireji, and has only eleven syllables. It’s not a realistic, literal poem. It reminds me of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice – perhaps Magical Realism? Impressionism? It is a visual poem. There are contrasting images – jigsaw puzzle piece, autumn leaves – and yes, they are different from each other, but in some ways the same. One can imagine the wind stirring up the leaves, without an actual final result, other than what is captured in this snapshot of a moment. The wind can’t actually solve a jigsaw puzzle, but it’s interesting to entertain the idea. And while the wind can’t solve the puzzle, it can scatter the leaves, creating new images – in some ways nature’s autumn jigsaw. And just as, according to Heraclitus you can’t step into the same stream twice, neither can you step into the same autumn scene twice. Again I like the use of nouns instead of verbs. Once again showing, not telling. The poem excites the imagination – my imagination at least. It’s the kind of idea I wish I had had.

 

 

072 – Third Prize

 

fireworks

the emptiness left as

the crowd moves on

 

Peter Free / Lower Hutt / New Zealand

 

 

Fireworks… a medium for entertainment and celebration. In some ways they are kind of a waste of time. The circus has largely gone by the wayside, why not the fireworks display? Besides, they have a lot in common with bombs. And in fact, I’m sure most animals and small children consider them bombs. Children have been known to cry, and dogs have been known to cringe in response to fireworks. Of course, if you can get over being afraid of them, they can be symbols of joy, and not at all a waste of time. Fireworks displays are occasions for people to gather together and celebrate. So a lot of this, and more, is subsumed under just the word “fireworks.” In any event, this is a very visual poem, in twelve syllables, and there are several contrasting images… sky filled with light / explosions; empty sky afterward; the crowd present and the crowd dispersing… full sky / full field… empty sky / empty field. This poem leaves a good, lasting impression. It’s hard to say enough about it because it says it so well itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

HONORABLE MENTIONS

 

 

006

a stand of sycamores

seventeen legs of deer

in winter rain

 

Joshua St. Claire / New Freedom / USA

 

 

The syllable count for the previous three poems was eleven, eleven, and twelve. This one also takes advantage of haiku’s flexibility with sixteen syllables, arranged 6/6/4. Sometimes the image we’re trying to convey requires more words – more syllables. At first I wondered if the poet might be striving to do too much with this poem; but finally I decided it was all appropriate as it is.

 

004

along the shoreline

collecting my thoughts

sandpipers

 

Scott Mason / Somers, New York / USA

 

 

This poem has three lines that come across to me as a kind of shorthand, or even a series of brushstrokes. Each line accomplishes an image. Taken together, they contain just enough concrete imagery, and just enough ambiguity, so that the poem transcends the ordinary. Ambiguity is good. Most, if not all great works of art, contain an element of ambiguity. For example, the Mona Lisa is not great for no reason. Five hundred years later we’re still talking about her ambiguous smile.

 

046

late summer light

filling the house

wild peaches

 

Marion Clarke / Warrenpoint / Northern Ireland

 

 

 

I like this for the images (light / peaches) and for the pivot (filling the house.) It reminds me of a quiet Sunday afternoon, containing enough specificity to create a memorable scene, and enough ambiguity to leave me pondering it long after I finish reading. I would consider putting “wild peaches” first. It seems to me to be the fragment, in “fragment and phrase.” On the other hand, however, “filling the house” acts as a pivot between “late summer light” and “wild peaches.” As such it works well – better than putting “wild peaches” first. With eleven syllables, the poem’s structure is not short/long/short, but it’s good anyway.

 

 

COMMENDED

 

147

dust rising

from the old dry pond...

distant thunder

 

Cristian Pietraru, Darabani, Romania

 

 

Finally we have a kireji. I always try to include one in my poems, and I’d like to see more of them in the poems I read. It seems that there is a tendency with modern haiku, regardless of language, to omit the kireji. Anyway, this poem has one, as well as fragment and phrase, but inverted, of course, with the fragment coming last. That’s ok, sometimes a poem works out this way, and is better for it. I like the way it shows instead of tells. Nice images create nice poems, and memorable scenes like this one.

 

 

068

another blizzard

losing myself

in another jigsaw

 

Tracy Davidson / Stratford-upon-Avon / United Kingdom /

 

Jigsaw puzzles must be a popular subject, and I can understand why. Every puzzle piece must be found in order to have a complete picture. In this poem, it seems the poet is assembling a jigsaw puzzle, while the blizzard rages outside. Or perhaps the puzzle itself pictures a blizzard to assemble. We can’t know, because we don’t have the key poetic puzzle piece; but that’s ok. We have compelling images and suggestive language instead. I always worry about using the same word twice in such a brief poem, but it seems to work well here.

 

082

the sudden flash

of a kingfisher

blue evening

 

Ruth Holzer / Potomac Falls / USA

 

 

This is a very competent haiku. It reminds me of kingfishers I have seen on my nature walks. I think “blue evening” is the fragment. If one were to put it first, then we’d have a short/long/short structure, which is the usual appearance for a haiku. I think haiku structure is important. But even though this deviates slightly from that s/l/s structure, it works very well for me, and I like it.

SHARPENING THE GREEN PENCIL 2024 RESULTS

 

Preselector - Mona Iordan, Romania

Final judge - Barrie Levine, United States of America

 

Judge’s Comments (Barrie Levine)

I am grateful to all of the participants who submitted their poems and to the editors who placed their confidence in me. One aspect of my job was pure joy, to read through the entries, each of which exhibited the knowledge, skill, and talent of serious and dedicated haiku poets. On the other hand, the selection process enlisted my intense focus in order to choose and then rank the poems fairly and respectfully. I commend all poets for sharing their fine work for the benefit of the international haiku community.

 

JOINT FIRST PLACE

#126

cattle roundup
a charred bean can
full of rain

Debbie Strange, Winnipeg, Canada

 

A full plate of sensory imagery invites the reader to dwell on and in the scene that the poet offers. The cattle roundup, an iconic event in the American West, has left debris in its wake as a reminder of the sound and action that disappeared in the dust. This poem casts a spell with its rich content, recreating in the reader’s imagination a way of life that in its hardship and dangers lives vividly in the collective imagination. The r’s present in each line read well as a connecting thread, or perhaps a rope, given the rough and tumble context.

Line 2 gives the reader an opportunity to move beyond the romance of the prairie. Fire has already charred the can, and next, the rain fills it. Perhaps it will rust as it lies forgotten, a modern-day ruin. Nature and its elements take over as it always does, just as summer grasses eventually overtook the warriors’ battleground in Basho’s haiku. The emotional power of this poem is grounded in but exceeds the sum of its parts.

 

JOINT FIRST PLACE

#56

hopping
from one twig to another -
a warbler’s song

Paul Callus,  Hal Safi, Malta

 

“Hopping” drew me in immediately; it is such an upbeat and whimsical word that something good must surely follow. The light mood continues into the second line, with much to visualize in the bird’s movement through the tree. And to the reader’s surprise, it is not just a bird, but birdsong itself that is hopping about. The sensory impact builds with each line: the characteristic yellow color, the perky action, the touch and bounce on each twig, with sound woven throughout. The euphony in the reading, which matches the euphony of the subject matter, elevates this poem to excellence on all accounts.

 

SECOND PLACE

#75

pine sap
sticking to
our story

Edward Huddleston,  Baxley,  United States of America

 

The reader is invited into a wooded setting, with sap, shiny and gold, flowing slowly down the trees from spring into summer; the tactile “stickiness” in the first line continues on the second but promptly shifts to a human context with its own set of complexities. The poem allows for layers of interpretation within a taut frame, taking off from the resonant image, with an s in each line for continuity and edginess. Space opens to dwell on the story, truth or fiction or something in between, but in any event a story to which the narrator is fully committed. The possessive “our” brings in two or more participants with no further explanation, leaving even more questions unanswered. We are thrown into an unknown controversy with an unresolved aftermath, and its mystery keeps me wondering long after reading.

 

THIRD PLACE

#163

as if the wind
knows my name
childhood lane

Rajandeep Garg, Sangrur,  India

 

The magic of a hometown visit, whether actual or imagined, resonates deeply in this haiku. Opening the poem with “as if” skillfully softens the personification of the wind’s “knowing,” leaving room for ambiguity. The phrase brings to the fore the mystery of memory and the way it is triggered – a dream or reverie? an object or photo? a conversation? a visit? The childhood lane places the scene not only geographically but into a familiar sense of beginnings. The shadow location, memory lane, strengthens the association with skillful understatement. The smooth read of the poem – with the feel of a lullaby in the rhyming of the long a’s at the end of the last two lines - welcomes the child in us for a moment into a visit to the past.   The visitor knows the place, but the place knows them too.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

 

FIRST HONORABLE MENTION

#149

sea horizon
the straight line of
a little girl's fringe

Nadejda Kostadinova, Sofia, Bulgaria

 

The images in the phrase charmed me immediately: the fringe could be bangs cut straight across the little girl’s forehead, or perhaps a decorative fringe sewn onto her skirt or blouse. 

“Horizon” picks up on the geometry of the straight line but leaves room to ponder the future phases of the child’s life, unknown until the years unfold, and not always as predictable as a straight line. The reference reminds me how we place the side of our hand to our forehead and squint into the distance for a clearer picture, an effective juxtaposition that elevates this poem in my esteem.

Because I have a detailed picture in my mind of the little girl, I feel invested in her fate and hope that her innocence, and by extension that of all children, will not be corrupted by the tough world they live in. This beautiful poem makes me care.

 

SECOND HONORABLE MENTION

#8

the long whiskers
of a fingerpaint cat
winter rain

Tom Bierovic,  DeLand,  USA

 

A “fingerpaint cat” is a special breed indeed, created by the enthusiasm of a pre-schooler, with whiskers as long as their imagination will allow. Senses are actively brought into play: the touch of wet fingers smearing paint, the primary colors emerging into shapes, the laughter in the room, and the anticipated tickle of long whiskers. The sober tone of the third line drains the carefree mood just enough to remind the reader that scenes such as this are even more precious in the continuum of time. The consistency of fingerpaint (water-based) shifts gently to the winter drizzle. The juxtaposition of the child’s painting, and the rain that can wash it away along with childhood itself, is a bittersweet reminder of impermanence.

 

THIRD HONORABLE MENTION

#155

wishing
there was a duolingo—
morning birdsong

Kerry J Heckman, Seattle WA, USA

 

I applaud the narrator’s desire to up the ante and learn to communicate in another language - birdsong itself - if that were possible. This dream may be unattainable, as the writer implies in L1, but the yearning to permeate the veil – and achieve fluency - between the human and natural world, is a strong one for poets.

 

COMMENDED (unranked)

#29

a withered rose -
in my camera
still a bud

Nada Jačmenica,  Sveti Križ, Začretje, Croatia

 

The withered rose, dried and browned, formerly a vibrant beauty, sets a tone of contemplation. The narrator, with the aid of modern technology, has stored the bud in the digital memory of their camera, preserving a moment to which they can reconnect at will. The poem depicts through well-chosen images the transformation of nature from its young energy to its inevitable decay, a process of which we are all a part.

 

#118

faded cosmos
a monarch riding
the last of summer

Gavin Austin, Sydney, Australia

 

The poet gracefully conflates time and space as the monarch’s movement rides the season itself to its conclusion.  Butterflies in summer are a common sight, but instead of fluttering in a breeze, the monarch takes charge of the current, befitting its name and status, as it and the faded cosmos move in tandem into autumn.

 

 

#165

 

dry pond...

the unsent letter becomes

a paper frog

 

Yasmina Butnaru, Botoșani, Romania

 

 

In our era of accelerated climate change, flood and drought, human action or inaction, and other catastrophic events threaten the natural habitats of flora, fauna, and humans. Basho’s frog replaced by a scrap of paper powerfully highlights these ominous developments. The unsent letter resonates for me as a missed opportunity to repair the planet.

 

March 25, 2024