WALES HAIKU JOURNAL
SUMMER 2018
hands all over our summer nights blur together
the old blue car
without power steering:
a talk with dad
a trout leaps my son's attention span
Chad Lee Robinson
white seashells...
a child collects
her first summer
Lucia Cardillo
the shimmering wing
of a fly on a houseplant
this long drought
white of a gull
out of moorland mist...
the empty road
Fred Schofield
snow –
deeper into winter
our footprints
dusk deepens
pausing to taste the wind
a red fox
Mark Miller
still afternoon –
yesterday's buzzard perch
falls in the forest
Kent Travis
coffee break
bees tipping
into the lavender
Melissa Howell
August rain . . .
the barely visible outline
of the distant mountains
their umbels jostling
in the wind over the clovered field—
Queen Anne’s lace
the Jersey nuzzling
tall meadow grass in the rain . . .
sweet scent of mown hay
Wally Swist
new blue rope
a child’s bucket
taken by the sea
Jackie Biggs
snow geese—
finding somewhere within myself
to hide from myself
chip in the teacup surface of the moon
Nicholas Klacsanzky
a sand lily
the mist
going on
Guliz Mutlu
tower crane
gradually lifting
the moon
Barun Saha
slow day
the bee's buzz louder
in the bellflower
the slap
of a wood pigeon's wings
midsummer drought
Lucy Whitehead
fall moonrise
a rowboat startles
waterfowls
Jianqing Zheng
mountain torrent
the wild gyre
in the falcon’s gaze
John Hawkhead
late summer sun
darkness at the root of
her ponytail
Ben Moeller-Gaa
languid afternoon
growing old together
mayfly and I
a soft rain
learning to bend
with the wind
David J Kelly
painting the wind
the brush finds
empty space
Michael Minassian
bird feeder
sways with the weight of
summer thunder
Erin Castaldi
brown weeds
beyond the back yard –
his deflated ball
a splash of poppies
in my knitting –
late snow
Marita Gargiulo
splitting firewood cicadas
Matthew Moffett
heat wave
a cloud above
a small tree
Nikolay Grankin
bare branches
what the cancer
left behind
supernova
mother leaves
her body
Tiffany Shaw-Diaz
all spring you sing
in my backyard— and I don’t
even know your name
Bruce Jewett
distant thunder
windows and doors
close
Anna Maris
airplane window
a baby's bottle
falls on my foot
Michael Simpkins
earthshine
a broken sphere
of allium
Debbie Strange
evening sun
the dog brings us
some ocean
Stephen Toft
dawn moon
the mouthpiece
of the trumpet
last light
all the beggar
can muster
Elmedin Kadric
inscribing the sky
with histories
wind-shaped hawthorns
Morwen Brosschot
muazzin’s call
following my father’s footprints
through the mist
midnight stroll
a stray dog leads me
out of the mist
Agus Maulana Sunjaya
the floor mat
shines in the midnight –
Strawberry Moon
Kanchan Chatterjee
bullet shot cacti
undulating in heat
a condom tangled
in desert dust
loud blue sky
meat circles
above meat
Connor McDonald
slowly
a snail recoils
at a pinch of salt
Michael Kang'a
at the stove
icy parkas
steam
Michael Kozubek
thin white moon
the black hills
hold no dreams
Adrian Bouter
laurel roots…
the ins and outs
of a badger’s night
upturned cattle trough
jackdaws forage
the hoof-trodden earth
Thomas Powell
scorching heat –
the fruit vendor's
toothless smile
Andrea Cecon
end of autumn
the last leaf falls
into silence
Rachel Sutcliffe
wind through the pines –
I lift my head
from between her legs
dusk
a sparrow sings
its mother's song
Dan Salontai
geese eating elm seeds floating on the lake
Marshall Bood
winter gale
opening the door
loneliness rushes in
Tim Gardiner
midnight moon
the highway stretches
into morning
Deborah P Kolodji
village massacre
in a dead baby's hand
forget-me-not
Justice Joseph Prah
still rows –
the ruby throats of swallows on a wire
Christina Martin
shattered into fragrance—
purple lilac buds rocking
in the cool rain
backlit sunshower . . .
blowing through the screen door
evening coolness
rainy morning—
a trail of maple buds reddens
the puddled street
Wally Swist
raw again
where I am torn
from my mother's body
dusky light –
the canoes hold winter
in their hulls
Judson Evans
floating downriver on driftwood a dragonfly
spring rain
grandma's roses bloom
without her
summer heat
fourteen cows belly deep
in the pond
ahead of the storm
a moth at the window
...summer night
Barbara Tate
the long drive home
I carry the sea
inside a stone
Peter Newton
gathering storm
a raven’s gravel-call
splits the light
snow on the wind
sudden glints of colour
in the magpie’s wing
John Hawkhead
a stray dog slowly grows
his own kind of coat…
smoke from the rice straw
a green chafer
settles at last on my shoulder…
one deep heartbeat
shrine ruin in blossom…
resident dogs
brush what's fallen
cold cloud drifts…
the red kapok tree
white with cranes
and now all my love
is wrapped up in the dogs…
fall wind parts a field
Kyle Sullivan
little coffin
the sound of the wind
even colder
surging sea one dream away from mother
Chen-ou Liu
campfire
everything beyond the pale
moves in closer
Devin Harrison
peeling tide...
I claw
long into the night
'mums
an infinity
of petals
Rest Home
window...
heads swimming
Helen Buckingham
cuckoos . . .
the forest
turning into a song
Gowtham Ganni
summer heat
the depth
of the ewe’s wool
nursing home visit
the lobby aviary
a blur of feathers
Edward J. Rielly
Bronze age arrowhead
the forest grows
another antler
Andy McLellan
summer rain
the far off cry
of a blue jay
precipice
a blue butterfly
hinges open
thunderstorm season
a wood chipper's
blast and whir
Brad Bennett
summer breeze . . .
the kite fails
to lift
Valentina Ranaldi-Adams
wild blackberries stem
framing the window
my daughter's sleep
huge clouds
mom hanging out sheets
among the cherries
Radostina Dragostinova
rainy night
my heartbeat
slows down
Claudia Messelodi
seeking
his softer side—
woodland moss
Marilyn Fleming
city lights dripping
into the streets
summer rain
insomnia
the darkness shifts
into shades
Debbi Antebi
first visitor
a yellow butterfly
on the torii gate
Agus Maulana Sunjaya
harvest moon
autumn's last
dirge
Colleen M. Farrelly
passing along the hall,
this heat wave slowly
cools
Jacqui Thewless
so many summers
this cloud
between dusk and dark
next to you,
breathing together,
snow falling
Leonard Green
soaring skylark
puffs of blooms
scent the vale
Guliz Mutlu
mountain
by mountain
colobus disappear
take off
from a grassy strip —
the pilot wets a finger
Lysa Collins
Alone, daydreaming
in the summer countryside –
patches of heather
Ben Grafström
unmarked grave
a child lays
a paper flower
Anthony Q. Rabang
counting sand
between the toes
a dying wave
her name
written on the sand:
wave breaks
Ram Krishna Singh