f/k/a archives . . . real opinions & real haiku

During our punditry hiatus, we thought we’d take a day trip to explore the Simply Haiku Journal, whose editors have posted a carnival of Japanese Short Form Poetry for their Summer 2006 edition (vol. 4 no. 2) — haiku, senryu, haibun, tanka, renku, haiga and more, plus related essays and commentary. There are dozens of contributors to Simply Haiku‘s Summer 2006 edition, but it should be no surprise that some of the best work is by a handful of f/k/a‘s Honored Guest Poets.
haiku from Ed Markowski

raising the height
of her bicycle seat…
spring rain

(for issabella)

the last word
of a short letter…
winter twilight

below zero…
sparrows peck
the snowman’s nose

harvest moon
we move the scarecrow
to the front porch

one to nothing
a full moon shines above
the centerfield scoreboard

……………………………………. by ed markowski

Senryu – on Things

old water fountain
hitting me in the eye
again

suspecting
it’s dogshit…
it’s dogshit

– Barry George

after
his first haircut
a cowlick

– Randy Brooks

tunnel of love
she props the stuffed frog
between us

– Ed Markowski

cool forest lake
as I slip off my shorts the snort
of a bull moose

—— George Swede

in the shower
an economy-size bar of soap
lands on my toe

— Tom Clausen

A Haibun by Roberta Beary

aft
er work

the weight of memory at times like this with its hard push of his hand on my bike columbia blue he bought me and me riding solo look at me daddy look at me and he gives me one big wave and then the soft thud in the drive and he’s gone and i have nowhere to look but up at the stars forever changing and the same

vigil over
binding his
hands
with a rosary

always his hand over mine his hard and strong mine little and soft the crush of his hand while we wait for the light to turn green and the cars coming every which way quick he pulls me back safe the hurt of his hand over mine under the streetlamp’s soft glow forever changing and the same

vigil
a
rosary slips over
cooling hands

– roberta beary

A Haibun by Andrew Riutta

THE WAITRESS
– Andrew Riutta
In two days she turns just twenty-one. Twenty-one. So young. So pale. I tell her she should stay away from the bars. I tell her she should go out west and save the whales, or a redwood-or the endangered laughter of working-class people who go out on porches at dusk to hum the same hymns over and over in their heads that their grand- parents did. She tells me that saving herself from her father is hard enough.

peaceful autumn-
a window display
of hunter’s orange

– andrew riutta

?? How will you celebrate the Fourth of July? See our posting from a year ago: Independence, fireworks and dissent (July 4, 2005) .