Afternoon of December 30, 2023

a new year

the woman with hope

releases the ball

~Sharon Ferrante

ringling pizza banana bread party on the lake

~J. D. Nelson

end of the year —

I win the lottery

in Monopoly

~Maurizio Brancaleoni

2024

everyone with their new

year's resolutions,

and here i am just hoping 2024

will be kinder than 2023 was.

~linda m. crate

Call for Submissions

Could 2024 be the year? The Asahi Haikuist Network is requesting haiku for the new

Anthropocene epoch. Send to David McMurray, mcmurray@fka.att.ne.jp.

flapping

as hard as I can

I kiss the street

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

fish sticks people inside of the radio

~J. D. Nelson

like a sturgeon divested of her eggs

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

soldering lamb the sleep of orion

~J. D. Nelson

Beatles once there were four

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

science barn rowdy tree bug inside

~J. D. Nelson

i don’t know what got into me rum

~Julie Bloss Kelsey

she coughed

the whole time

viral video

~David C. Kopaska-Merkel

halting moving

along a window ledge in December

a fly, poor thing

~Steve Van Allen

Beaks of sandpipers poking into the sand

and dart off to chase the waves.

Eleven pipers piping

in the sea, swimming.

~Fhen M.

overstaying

your welcome—

roadkill raccoon

~Julie Bloss Kelsey

‘twas a Phoenix, let it burn bright

illuminating our mind's dark corners.

~Fhen M.

Award Season

Are you aware individuals can nominate two haiku for a Touchstone Award? The deadline

nears, is Dec 31. Hurry! One poem can be your own work, the other a poem you admire.

Publication must have been during 2023.

Link to the (google form) nomination:

https://docs.google.com/forms

/d/e/1FAIpQLScNLIih4nJItt0IonbySDfdAbn_JK4RuN4IVmLnD516ce9CJw/viewform

death to parasites

you were a parasite

desperate to turn

every light into darkness,

but i have too many

feathers and have risen from

the ashes too many times

for you to win.

~linda m. crate

trash weeps a cloned carp

~J. D. Nelson

in an English Bath until I pruned

~J. D. Nelson

Evening of December 29, 2023

 

  Covid for New Year’s.

I’ll probably be fine.

Probably.

~Noah Berlatsky

underneath the tree –

a 1000 fallen pine needles

and my cat drinking

~Jennifer Gurney

New Year's Eve

sound of gunshots

just like every other night

~John J. Dunphy

there are no more

ordinary moments –

now that my eyes are open

~Jennifer Gurney

the same steps

with different footprints

lineage

~Mona Bedi

clever or not

we never imagined the end

like this

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

Watermelon rinds of hunger sprout in my hand

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

still wondering about the pronouns winter rain

~Mona Bedi

Rain teaches you to cry

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

growing old the sisters I once had

~Mona Bedi

sailing in from past lives snowbirds on ghost ships

~Roberta Beach Jacobson

a poem written

on the wings of sleep

dances differently

~Jennifer Gurney

death the everlasting sheep

~Keith Evetts

The cry of silence in the middle of the night

~Mykyta Ryzhykh

all night worrying

whether the sleeping pills

have worked

~Keith Evetts

old hippie

now even his kidneys

stoned

~John J. Dunphy

squid-fingered slipwit

subtle as a whale

—why she loves him

~Keith Evetts