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
