Monday 26 March 2007








EDITOR'S WELCOME

This section of World Haiku Review features poets from around the world. While it is true that the right combinations of components create memorable haiku, the notion of what is "right" may vary from poet to poet, editor to editor.
This editor aims to select provocative haiku with certain traditional qualities, while recognizing the value of less-than-rigid parameters. My goal is to present a universally resonant haiku collection, provide inspiration for haiku writers, and contribute to the development of world-haiku.

Ferris Gilli
Editor, TREETOPS

======================

EDITOR'S CHOICE

A selection of haiku with commentary

By Ferris Gilli, Editor


Does the reader's interpretation give a poem its resonance, or does the stimulating effect of the work drive the interpretation? Surely it works both ways. Much of the appeal and power of haiku lies in the potential for various interpretations of a single poem. A haiku may satisfy different people in different ways. After being drawn again and again to Patricia Prime's "humidity," I now offer my own perception of her work.

humidity
all night long the sound
of a click beetle

Patricia Prime, NZ

This poem contains important fundamental qualities of its genre. Among others are excellent construction, kigo, concrete imagery, and effective juxtaposition of disparate images. The presence of a click beetle indicates late spring or summer, when the adult insects are active. Although the single word "humidity" might at first seem too sparse, it gathers strength as the rest of the poem is read. This is humidity that oppresses, that intensifies the seasonal warmth. Humidity that precedes and accompanies the rain and hangs on afterward; a dampness that makes hair and clothes limp and gets into one's bones.

The phrase "all night long" creates what the Japanese call sabi, evoking a sense of loneliness; "the sound / of a click beetle," understood here as recurrent, enhances the mood. But a haiku must represent a very brief span, and for me, the instant of this work's conception is quite clear. It is the moment when the author realizes that the restless night is ending, when she accepts that her lot throughout was to toss and turn and wait for the beetle's next click, in the same way one might wait for the next drip of the faucet.

Making every word count, Patricia Prime has combined potent images in a haiku that resonates with atmosphere and sensory appeal. I am grateful to her for sharing it with us.

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HAIKU

TREETOPS, Spring 2007

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first mowing
wild onion scent
wades the icy branch

Elizabeth Howard
Crossville, Tennessee, US


pink dogwood -
giving the tabby church
a new roof

Adelaide B. Shaw
Scarsdale, New York, US


tumbledown homestead
wild turkeys do-si-do
between rail fences

Elizabeth Howard
Crossville, Tennessee, US


cherry blossoms --
swerving to miss
a pothole

Laryalee Fraser
British Columbia, CA

warm afternoon -
with him comes the fragrance
of a cigar

Adelaide B. Shaw
Scarsdale, New York, US


bushfire hazethe little birds have learnt
about smoke

Sue Stanford
Melbourne, AU


harbor sunset –
walking the long way
home

Francis Masat
Key West, Florida, US


close to tears
a stranger at the graveside
close to tears

Emily Romano
Boonton, New Jersey, US


remembered grief
dark clouds part
for a morning moon

Lynne Steel
Hillsboro Beach, Florida, US


landfill –
a buzzard and I
disagree

Francis Masat
Key West, Florida, US


human footfall
a dying bird, an orchid
play dead

Sue Stanford
Melbourne, AU


morning darkness
a crescent moon rises
orange from the sea

Lynne Steel
Hillsboro Beach, Florida, US


a garden hoe
leans against the strawman;
fine rain falling...

Emily Romano
Boonton, New Jersey, US


sirens --
the fire ant waves
its tentacles

Nancy Stewart Smith
Athens, Georgia US


urban farm
corrugated iron sheep
outside a craft shop

Patricia Prime
Auckland, NZ


rising blizzard –
the neighborhood watch sign
disappears

Nancy Stewart Smith
Athens, Georgia, US


my birth house--
from its ruins springs up
a cherry tree

Jasminka Nadaskic Diordievic
Smederevo, Serbia


first warm night
a shooting star breaks
our silence

Laryalee Fraser
British Columbia, CA


deep summer night--
from the neighborhood
echoes of a laugh

Jasminka Nadaskic Diordievic
Smederevo, Serbia


humidity
all night long the sound
of a click beetle

Patricia Prime
Auckland, NZ


wild raspberries -
rolls of thunder follow
from bush to bush

Adelaide B. Shaw
Scarsdale, New York US


after the storm
checking the tide pool
for crabs

Patricia Prime
Auckland, NZ


silence --
moonflowers reach
for their mother

Nancy Stewart Smith
Athens, Georgia, US


(end of haiku)

Wednesday 10 January 2007


TREETOPS


EDITOR: FERRIS GILLI











EDITOR'S WELCOME



This section of World Haiku Review features poets from around the world. While it is true that the right combinations of components create memorable haiku, the notion of what is "right" may vary from poet to poet, editor to editor. This editor aims to select provocative haiku with certain traditional qualities, while recognizing the value of less-than-rigid parameters. My goal is to present a universally resonant haiku collection, provide inspiration for haiku writers, and contribute to the development of world-haiku.

Ferris Gilli
Editor, TREETOPS

===============================

EDITOR'S CHOICE


A Selection of haiku with commentary
by Ferris Gilli, Editor



dawn—
my breath rises
with that of the cows

Francis Masat, US


A haiku’s resonance is created through a partnership between poet and reader. Francis Masat’s “dawn–” invites such an alliance. The poet encourages readers to discover more than one level of meaning in his careful combination of clear images. Those who look beneath the surface will find insight beyond the immediate imagery.

Masat expresses his moment with pleasing musicality. The haiku is as lovely to read aloud as it is to imagine the experience. The last two lines create a gentle cadence, while the repeated “th” and “s” manifest the sounds of breathing from several beings. The first line shows us that day is just beginning, evoking the warm colors of sunrise, before we see the visibility of breath (denoting winter). Thus, for this reader, a sense of bitter cold is made less harsh by the “softness” of dawn.

The second and third lines reflect the poet’s humility and cognizance of his particular place in matters of the earth. Observing that “my breath rises / with that of the cows,” he is aware that, however exalted mankind may be in its own perception, at the end of the day humans differ little from other creatures in many ways. We are born, we breathe, we bleed when cut, we eat and drink to live, and if we are denied breath or sustenance, we die.

The relationship between humans and cattle is ancient. People raise and feed the animals that they in turn use for food and other things. Yet it is a rare cowherd or old-style dairyman who does not at times feel a kinship with his herd. Who has milked cows dawn after dawn and never leaned his or her head against a warm flank, soothed by the scents and low sounds of animals and frothing milk?

Francis Masat welcomes us into his early-morning haiku, to hear the movement of large bodies, to smell their warm hides and rich breaths, to watch the steamy exhalations from both poet and bovine creatures drift heavenward. The poet shares his moment of sure connection to a lowly beast, and invites us to perhaps find anew our own humble connections.

==========================

Fall/Winter 2005-2006

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HAIKU



TREETOPS, Fall/Winter 2005



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frogs' voices—
overlooking the river
a pale moon


Jasminka Nadaskic-Djordjevic,

Smederevo, YU





mountain bridge
a river towards me
a river away from me


Tim Edwards
Jakarta, Java, ID




The creek ice gone—
a little girl tries the water
with her bare toes


Zhanna P. Rader
Athens, Georgia, US





the sound of rain
on the roof; the sound
of rain on the roof


Francis Masat
Key West, Florida, US




fresh-cut flowers
an ant circles
the rim of the vase



Rick Tarquinio

Bridgeton, New Jersey, US





monday morning
the second hand
jerks around the clock



Carmel Lively Westerman
Yuma, Arizona, US





Discovery Center
I wait for my grandson
to return from Mars



Lynne Steel

Hillsboro Beach, Florida, US





baggage carousel—
struggling to recognise
her father



Graham Nunn
Queensland, AU



mid-spring
the ache of hearing
Wordsworth's daffodil poem



Hilary Tann

New York, US





the wind
through twisted pines
a whistling hiker



Victor Ortiz
California, US




the bikini-clad woman
reads a poem to the sea
flickering sun


Lenard D. Moore

Raleigh, North Carolina, US





silver moonlight
across the pond—
the moth's wings


Gina Streaty
Durham, North Carolina, US




summer night—
pulling the shoelace
through the eyelets


Lenard D. Moore
Raleigh, North Carolina, US





last pear—
the yellow glint
of a starling's beak


Laryalee Fraser
British Columbia, CA





crawling mist:
the gravedigger deep
inside a rhythm


Chad Lee Robinson
South Dakota, US



Moon—

a white-footed mouse
catches a gypsy moth


Zhanna P. Rader
Athens, Georgia, US





honeymoon . . .
each bite
of the mango


Timothy Hawkes
Centerville, UT, US





anniversary day
we keep our kayak straight
through the rapids


VictorOrtiz

California, US





the slip
of a wet oyster—
crisp ship's biscuits


Anna Tambour

New South Wales, AU





stars after fireworks—
a cluster of lawn chairs
in the drive


Chad Lee Robinson
South Dakota, US




orchid show
an old man's face peers
from behind the blooms


Patricia Prime

Auckland, NZ



first fall morning
we get out the cups
with acorns on them


Janelle Barrera
Florida, US





raking the lawn—
leaves on the front porch
form their own pile


Adelaide B. Shaw
New York, US





afternoon stroll—
bringing autumn home
on wet shoes


Adelaide B. Shaw
New York, US





bike tires crush
a sluggish grasshopper
the smell of cut hay


DeVar Dahl

Alberta, CA





the little girl
sticking out her tongue—
dragonfly


Francis W. Alexander
Ann Arbor, Michigan, US



brown weeds
out of weed shadows
field mouse


Ann K. Schwader
Colorado, US





yellow ball . . .
the black Labrador steps
between chestnut burrs


Nancy Stewart Smith

Athens, Georgia, US




the flock turns back
turns silver
autumn morning


Barry George

Pennsylvania, US





starry night . . .
remembering the first words
of my children


Robert Bauer

Big Wheeling Creek, West Virginia, US





first semester . . .

a sage sparrow
raises its tail


Nara Bauer

Big Wheeling Creek, West Virginia, US





fall morning
the sunny bench
taken


Rick Tarquinio

Bridgeton, New Jersey, US




the yellow tail
of a sea snake waves—
beached


Anna Tambour

New South Wales, AU



dawn—
my breath rises
with that of the cows


Francis Masat
Key West, Florida, US





first ice—
curved paths in the field
full of stars


Scott Metz
Okayama-ken, JP





class reunion
a squirrel sips from the break
in a frozen puddle


Francis W. Alexander
Ann Arbor, Michigan, US





child's drawing—
the Star more alive
than the Wise Men


Barry George
Pennsylvania, US





New Year's dawn—
north wind shaking
the fir cones


Vasile Moldovan

Bucharest, RO









winter deepens—
on the album's liner notes
my young fingerprint


Jason Sanford Brown
Tucson, Arizona, US





dispersing clouds—
a scarf from her ex
draped on the snowman


Billie Wilson

Juneau, Alaska, US



(end of haiku)