Winner and Runners-up of the Society of Classical Poets 2021 Haiku Competition
Judged by Margaret Coats (see her remarks below)
See all entrants here.
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WINNER
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Fog enshrouds the night
Woven in the heavy mist
A thread of fireflies
—Joe Tessitore
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RUNNERS-UP in seasonal order
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Spring in the hedgerows
Magpies busy canceling
Fresh twitter accounts
—Sean Hickey
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How short is freedom
gained by the cherry blossom
released from the branch
—Germain Droogenbroodt
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wearily she waves
the white flag of surrender
cobwebbed butterfly
—Tracy Davidson
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Wisteria bloom
Along a sidewalk café
Coffee in the air
—Ravi Kivan
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Boughs froth with new blooms
when the monsoon rain sweeps through
trees toss their bouquets
—Rachel Nel
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Bear cubs watching men
Walking through a sylvan glen
The forest shudders
—Roy E. Peterson
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Hundreds of faces
Turning to sun and to seed
Imperceptibly
—Lisa White
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The young boy splashes
in the backyard swimming pool
facing subs and sharks
—Bruce Dale Wise
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watermelon patch
I let the weathered scarecrow
try on my straw hat
—Darrell Lindsey
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Issa, tonight you
hold the honored place at my
table, hungry fly
—Mark Philip Stone
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Looming laden clouds
Blanket Bombay’s bustling streets
And storms paint the sky
—Stuti Sinha
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A minute’s silence
for the atomic bomb day
The wind also dies
原爆忌風も静かに黙祷す
—Toshiji Kawagoe
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Falling August stars
The sky is full of beauty
So many wishes
—Vita
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end of the summer—
the calm surface of a lake
absorbs the twilight
—Marek Kozubek
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Curious concert—
crickets croon to a cornfield
of indifferent ears
—Martin Elster
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As winter draws near
Fabulous floral worlds bloom
The solace of books
—Mia P Solomonides
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one lone(ly) mallard
ignored by his own echo
quacks again, hoping
—James Ripley
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black skyscrapers scratch
at something beyond the gray
as white flakes drift down
—Spencer Green
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taste of morning tea
the delicate ray of sun
through an icicle
—Daniela Misso
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Dark branches stripped bare
cold and sad, quite unaware
stirrings down below
—Linette Eloff
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Comments from Judge Margaret Coats
Congratulations to the winner and runners-up for their fine haiku! There were very many good haiku among the poems submitted by 339 contestants this year (up from 246 last year). Thank you all for your skillful contributions to this display of poems.
As the competition was proceeding, there was some discussion in Comments about the requirements, especially the required seasonal reference. The excellent haiku above help show what it means to say that the seasonal reference ultimately depends on the poet’s artistry, rather than on choosing a word from a list.
Seasonal words are called “kigo” in Japanese, and there are many lists of them. If our winner, Joe Tessitore, had consulted one, he would have found “fireflies” in the summer section, and “fog” in autumn. Does this mean he cannot write a haiku describing fireflies in fog? Not at all. The poet must be true to his observations and his imagination. Even in Japan (despite kigo lists) heavy mist may arise over a lake during a summer night.
Joe says, “Fog enshrouds the night,” suggesting the dead of night, since a shroud covers a dead body. When he goes on to say, “Woven in the heavy mist,” the word “woven” emphasizes the dense, fabric-like texture of the fog. “A thread of fireflies” not only provides light in the dark natural scene, but completes the fabric metaphor with gold thread embellishing dark cloth. Joe’s haiku presents a summer night scene from nature—and suggests things beyond the scene (a beautiful textile, thoughts of light and beauty despite darkness or death).
Lisa White tells what season it is with a riddle rather than a word. What does she describe in her haiku’s first two lines? A field of sunflowers! Her final line makes excellent use of five syllables in the word “imperceptibly” to carefully specify the slow speed of the “turning to sun and to seed” mentioned in line 2.
Spencer Green also uses description rather than a seasonal word in his ingenious winter cityscape. Tracy Davidson saves the spring word “butterfly” to be the surprise answer at the very end of a puzzle personifying the creature in distress. Roy E. Peterson sets the season in “Bear Cubs” as the time when cubs who know the forest first encounter men. When is that? It takes a little thinking, even if the reader knows bear cubs are born during winter hibernation.
Sean Hickey names spring in his haiku’s first line, but he could have identified the season merely with his pun on “twitter,” referring to the cries of baby birds in spring. When he speaks of “magpies canceling fresh twitter accounts,” he describes notorious magpie aggression destroying the chicks or eggs of other bird species—but of course he mocks human cancel culture as well.
These examples of seasonal reference show that it can be an opportunity for the poet to demonstrate his or her skill. Simply naming a season, or using a recognized seasonal word, is fine. But be aware of how much a season includes. Human life takes place in the seasons of nature, and seasonal human activities or observances can be good ways of indicating a season.
Notice the poem by Toshiji Kawagoe about the minute’s silence recalling the atomic bomb blasts in Japan near the end of World War II. This takes place every year in August, and it is quite stirring to participate when traffic and talk stop on busy streets and in stores. The first two lines of the poem may look like a senryu rather than a haiku, but “the wind also dies.” The nature reference effectively deepens the thought.
There may seem to be no nature at all in Bruce Dale Wise’s poem on the boy in a backyard pool. But swimming has long been recognized as a human activity associated with summer, and the poet uses it well to open up the boy’s imaginative prospect of what he might possibly see in ocean waters.
One more haiku to mention here is Mark Philip Stone’s salute to the Japanese poet Issa. Issa comes right after Basho and Buson among the great masters of the form. He was a poor man who lived in a miserable hut. His poems address a cricket and a grasshopper as if they were human friends, and compare the poet himself to the neglected baby bird in a nest who never gets enough food. To call him a hungry fly is his very own style. Thanks for this nod to the haiku tradition!
If and when the Society of Classical Poets sponsors another haiku competition, poets will probably be asked to submit only haiku written since the last contest closed. This was not required in the 2021 competition.
Here are some suggestions for becoming a little more familiar with the Japanese haiku masters, and with some good English haiku in the 5-7-5 syllable form.
English translations by Peter Beilenson in his Peter Pauper Press books are great. Japanese Haiku was first published in 1955; it contains 220 poems in a beautiful little book with attractive artwork, and it is available online. It was followed by three more books in the same format: The Four Seasons, Cherry Blossoms, and Haiku Harvest.
One short and worthwhile kigo list is “The Five Hundred Essential Japanese Season Words.” Remember, though, it lists words for Japan. The best way to use it is to study the categories: the heavens, the earth, human activities, human observances, animals and plants for each season. Imagine how these categories apply to your location—and you will be able to create seasonal references that suit your poetry. There are many other lists created by haiku schools in different places. None is comprehensive or universal; additions are made whenever they are considered useful. The number of words can run to many thousands, and a reader may miss your seasonal reference if you choose an obscure one. All the more reason to be clear and clever about the season when writing traditional haiku, even if you use a kigo list to find inspiring suggestions or to check your initial thoughts.
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Dear Margaret,
Thank you for sharing your experience of haiku with us. Certainly the years you stayed in Kyoto deepens your view of haiku and I agree with you that the most of 21 haikus also meet a standard of haiku in Japan. Thank you again for your effort as a judge in the contest!
Then, I’d like to share one more information about haiku in Japan you may be interested.
As for the role of a seasonal reference (“Kigo”) in a haiku, the following critical comment sometimes is made by the judge and participants in a haiku meeting (“kukai”) and in the contest: “That seasonal reference is replaceable. ” (“Kigo ga ugoku” in Japanese.) In other words, a seasonal word or phrase should be indispensable and inseparable in a haiku.
This means that a part of haiku other than a seasonal reference should capture something essential in that reference. In this sense, haiku is told as a Kigo-centered poem.
Probably, that view of haiku was proposed at first by Shiki Masaoka, a founder of modern haiku, and then was strongly advocated by his first disciple, Kyoshi Takahama. Kyoshi’s position is summarized as follows: “a haiku should be an objective sketch of nature. ” Thus, in this position, if a seasonal reference in a haiku is replaceable, that haiku fails to capture something essential contained in the present natural scenery and event. In my view, Kyoshi’s position is still dominant in Japanese haiku.
For example, in a popular weekly TV show “Pressure Battle!” (「プレバト!!」in Japanese) in Japan, a professional haiku master, Itsuki Natsui, for ten years, critically gives comment to the haikus submitted and corrects them. Basically, her comment follows the Kyoshi’s position and she usually suggests to use a single seasonal reference in a haiku and to make it a principal subject (Kigo-centered).
プレバト!! (in Japanese)
https://www.mbs.jp/p-battle/
You may see that a haiku juxtaposes two completely different words or phrases (“toriawase” in Japanese) to make a synergetic or defamiliarization effect. It is another approach toward haiku. Even in that case, such a juxtaposition is praised as a success when Kigo is a principal subject.
Of course, English and other language haiku may follow different aesthetic criterion such as beautiful rhythm and rhyme and I’d like to know it. Only thing I intended to do here is to tell a conventional idea in making a haiku in Japan, which may be lost in translation, to you all. I’m pleased if my explanation is something helpful for you and invokes your further interest toward haiku.
Thank you, Margaret, for your recognition in my poem of the fact cubs are born in winter and associating that with the “sylvan” glen that can only be that way in spring and summer, at least in my mind. Congratulations to Joe and all the runners up.
I should mention “the forest shudders,” because mama bear is near and ready to protect her cubs. That was the image in my mind when I wrote it.
Roy, I found your haiku quite interesting in several ways. The seasonal reference is indeterminate, because cubs would not leave the hibernation den until spring at least, and men are most likely to explore the forest in summer. Therefore, I placed your haiku between spring and summer in the seasonal list. You also used rhyme to end lines one and two, with no rhyme in line three. Thus rhyme-to-non-rhyme functions as what Japanese call the “kireji” or cutting word, dividing the haiku into two parts that work in contrast or in tandem with one another. And in your poem, the rhythm is another kind of kireji. You accent the odd-numbered syllables in your first two lines, but the even-numbered syllables in the last line. When you say, “The forest shudders,” I took it quite literally to mean the trees. I didn’t think of mama bear, or even of the cubs who would at least recognize men as something strange, not native or normal in the woods. I was envisioning a sympathetic reaction in the entire natural world, akin to some marvels involving nymphs in Greek myth. Shows you wrote a well-laden haiku, with varied responses possible in different readers!
I love your artistic analysis. I likely am the only one who envisioned a mama bear nearby and for that the forest that is watching hypothetically shudders. Your timing is accurate for nature: for the cubs, the men, and the sylvan allusion. I have learned much from you and extend my gratitude.
Congratulations Joe and everyone. Some wonderful poems. Although I do wish my punctuation had been left as written in the submission.
James, your punctuation has been restored.
Thank-you.
I just discovered that I am one of the runners-up and I couldn’t be more delighted and honored! Thank you so much and congratulations to Joe! A worthy winner indeed.
The cold winter’s coat;
the old friends departing,
in this silent land.
See, my hands are cold;
the willows are wet in rain,
and we are in pain.
The spaces between;
where rivers and streams end,
follow God aimlessly.