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Museum of Haiku Literature Award Collection

This award is made possible by the generosity of the Museum of Haiku Literature in Tokyo, Japan. The HSA Executive Committee awards a cash prize for the best haiku in each issue of our literary journal, Frogpond. The issue number above each poem indicates the issue in which the winning poem first appeared.

Winners by Year:
2010 | 2009 | 2008 | 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995 | 1994 | 1993 | 1992 | 1991 | 1990 | 1989 | 1988 | 1987 | 1986 | 1985 | 1984 | 1983 | 1982 | 1981



Frogpond 33.1












Frogpond 32.1




Frogpond 32.2




Frogpond 32.3




Frogpond 31.1
Ian Daw

distant singing—
the winter stars
almost touch




Frogpond 31.2




Frogpond 31.3




Frogpond 30.1
Ian Daw

distant singing—
the winter stars
almost touch




Frogpond 30.2




Frogpond 30.3




Frogpond XXIX:1
Hilary Tann

after sunset . . .
the shapes
of the clouds





Frogpond XXIX:2
Carolyn Hall

circle of pines
God absent
from the wedding vows


Frogpond XXIX:3
Eve Luckring

open scissors beside a vase of water





Frogpond XXVIII:1
Duro Jaiye

spring rain—
milk in her left breast
unexpectedly sweeter


Frogpond XXVIII:2
Marcus Larsson

spring evening
the children's promise
not to get cold


Frogpond XXVIII:3
Mike Spikes

autumn morning—
repainting our bedroom
the color it was



Frogpond XXVII:1
Robert Gilliland

jackknifed rig
the trooper waves us
into wildflowers


Frogpond XXVII:2
Peggy Willis Lyles

the numbness
of scar tissue—


Frogpond XXVII:3
Nancy S. Young

autumn wind
in his sweater pocket
the missing button



Frogpond XXVI:1
Burnell Lippy

squash vines
long and hollow
the last late evenings


Frogpond XXVI:2
Joann Klontz

dim light
the night nurse
describes the rain


Frogpond XXVI:3
Lenard D. Moore

late summer
black men spreading tar
on the side road



Frogpond XXV:I
Valerie Matsumoto

knowing your cough
but not your face—
invalid neighbor


Frogpond XXV:2
Tom Painting

spring plowing
a flock of blackbirds
turns inside out


Frogpond XXV:3
Burnell Lippy

squash vines
long and hollow
the last late evenings



Frogpond XXIV:1
John O’Connor (NZ)

up to my ears
in birdsong


Frogpond XXIV:2
Robert Mainone

all around
light falling in a field
of fireflies


Frogpond XXIV:3
Fay Aoyagi

Independence Day—
I let him touch
a little bit of me



Frogpond XXIII:1

snake hunting the boy sheds his shirt




Frogpond XXIII:2
Carolyn Thomas



Frogpond XXIII:3
Stanford M. Forrester

summer evening
fanning myself
with a paper moon




Frogpond XXII:1
Charles Easter

close lightning
   the metallic taste
            in my mouth


Frogpond XXII:2
Dimitar Anakiev

garden work—
talking to each other
back to back


Frogpond XXII:3
Charles Easter

dry heat—
to the same withered flower
a bee returns



Frogpond XXI:1
Yu Chang

starry night—
biting into a melon
full of seeds


Frogpond XXI:2
Peggy Willis Lyles

I brush
my mother’s hair
the sparks


Frogpond XXI:3
Harriet Axelrad

snowflakes glued
to the kindergarten window—
no two alike



Frogpond XX:1
Tom Clausen

   in the cold rain
   their snow fort


Frogpond XX:1
Ebba Story

faint city stars …
the moth’s copper dust
in my palm


Frogpond XX:2
Celia Stuart-Powles

Father’s funeral
              suddenly small


Frogpond XX:2
Robert Gibson

porch swing
   now and then     a breeze
      from the river


Frogpond XX:3
Mark Alan Osterhaus

January thaw
the narrow path
fading away




Frogpond XIX:1
Anthony J. Pupello

spring planting
her refusal
to compromise


Frogpond XIX:2
Carol Purington

Logging road—
          the pileated woodpecker
                    flings its cry ahead


Frogpond XIX:3
Hayat Abuza

ill again
a dry leaf
across porch boards



Frogpond XVIII:1
Ebba Story

leaving the park—
glimpses of cherry petals
on the soles of shoes


Frogpond XVIII:2
Matthew Louvière

Lily pond
   with one step the snowy egret
  moves the moon


Frogpond XVIII:3
Wally Swist

the white v of a killdeer’s wings
  opening in the wake
of its cry


Frogpond XVIII:4
R.A. Stefanac

     the night




Frogpond XVII:1
Lenard D. Moore

a pile of rocks
shifting in spring rain
the stiff old man


Frogpond XVII:2
LeRoy Gorman

getting louder
the calf
the auctioneer


Frogpond XVII:3
Christopher Herold

bird shadow
from tree shadow
to fence shadow


Frogpond XVII:4
Pamela A. Babusci

i climb the mountain with my eyes never ending snow




Frogpond XVI:1
(spring-summer issue)
Kohjin Sakamoto

the petals scatter
over graves swept
and unswept


Frogpond XVI:1
(spring-summer issue)
Kenneth Tanemura

a single leaf falling
   and with it
      the morning dew


Frogpond XVI:2 (fall-winter issue)
Christopher Herold

mountain rose—
from thorn to thorn
a spider’s line


Frogpond XVI:2 (fall-winter issue)
Peter Yovu

coming out of the woods—
the sound of crickets,
the empty sky




Frogpond XV:1 (spring-summer issue)
Alexis Rotella

An old woman with bread
waves the geese down
from the sky.


Frogpond XV:1 (spring-summer issue)
George Swede

over the earth’s edge
they all go—the white clouds
and the one sailboat


Frogpond XV:1 (spring-summer issue)
Elizabeth St Jacques

amish territory
(Shipshewana, Indiana)

long beards longer
black clothes darker
under july sun

amish gentleman's
warm smile brief . . .
my skirt long and plain

an amish grin
as he cycles past
the station selling gas

the gloom within
a handcrafts store . . .
dolls with missing faces

facing mirrors
long-skirted woman
and her amish child

music on the wind
an amish foot softly taps
and abruptly stops

late night camp . . .
now a gentle lullaby
horse hooves heading home


Frogpond XV:1 (spring-summer issue)

Windswept Walk
The first completed chain renku

See also Michael Dylan Welch's Notes About Windswept Walk

windswept walk
   an orange leaf
      turns over
  Michael Dylan Welch
June 6, 1990
Foster City, Calif.
the wild geese—their echo
  Adele Kenny
June 12, 1990
Fanwood, N.J.
between her white teeth
  a cherry tomato
  Emily Romano
June 24, 1990
Boonton, N.J.
such boredom
after the fireworks
  Alexis Rotella
June 26, 1990
Mountain Lakes, N.J.
the black swan
paddles the moon
into its wake
  David E. LeCount
June 30, 1990
La Honda, Calif.
a doe and her fawn
hidden in shadow
  Elizabeth Searle Lamb
July 7, 1990
Santa Fe, N.M
house at auction:
all the lawn ornaments
faded to grey
  Lee Gurga
July 14, 1990
Lincoln, Illinois
I prefer some clouds
the morning after surgery
  Hal Roth
July 22, 1990
Vienna, Md.

giggles & respect kenichi's yard kanji beware of mountain crone

Marlene Mountain
August 2, 1990
Hampton, Tenn.
flowing from his wet brush
grass words tickle her fancy

  Jane Reichhold
August 6, 1990
Gualala, Calif.
buckets set up
beside the bed
the roof leaks
  Werner Reichhold
August 7, 1990
Gualala, Calif.
heaven and earth together
cradle sleep with gentle rain
  Elaine Sherlund
August 10, 1990
Gualala, Calif.
tiny feet
from the garden shower
do a muddy stomp
  Caroline Sutherland
August 12, 1990
Gualala, Calif.

luna wings stroke twilight tones of moth
  Penny Crosby
August 13, 1990
Gualala, Calif.
     his hands
     so gentle
  anne mckay
August 23, 1990
Vancouver, B.C.
placing seed potatoes
eyes to the sky
  Joe Nutt
September 4, 1990
Staunton, Va.
in her dark hair
the blossom
whisper white
  Elizabeth St Jacques
September 11, 1990
Sault Ste. Marie, Ont
Clearing brush he finds
someone's wedding ring
  Gloria H. Procsal
September 18, 1990
Oceanside, Calif.
moving awry
with the sunspot
a widow spider
  Frederick Gasser
21 September 1990
Youngstown, Ohio
sioux medicine man
dances his prayer
  Francine Porad
September 25, 1990
Mercer Island, Wash.
men picketing
a Chevy agency
a child asks, "parade?"
  Paul O. Williams
September 27, 1990
Belmont, Calif.
the blind man lifting
his face to the sun
  Dave Sutter
September 27, 1990
San Francisco, Calif.
Wind and Sea . . .
tiny name
on the painting
  vincent tripi
September 30, 1990
San Francisco, Calif.
brilliant on the easel
the meadow's wildflowers
  Charles B. Dickson
October 31, 1990
Doraville, Ga.
recalling mother's perfume
on Saturday nights
  Mitzi Hughes Trout
November 5, 1990
Roswell, Ga.

"loneliest night of the week"—
searching the stars for solace

  Geraldine C. Little
November 22, 1990
Mt. Holly, N.J.
taken out of storage,
dark with dew
  Hiroaki Sato
December 21, 1990
New York, N.Y.
Plane rises dear of the fog
into profound darkness
  Doris Heitmeyer
January 2, 1991
New York, N.Y.
Will we go hunting
for the Blue Moon
next New Year's Eve?
  Sydell Rosenberg
January 7, 1991
Jamaica, N.Y
bleak January day
forced narcissus showing white
  L. A. Davidson
January 22, 1991
New York, N.Y.
first I saw her hair
in the wind, then the wonder
of her smile
  Virginia Brady Young
February 15, 1991
Cheshire, Conn.
no way to stop hearing
that old lovesong
  Sylvia Forges-Ryan
February 19, 1991
North Haven, Conn.
florist shop door
slowly swings shut
closing out the street noise
  Karen Sohne
March 5, 1991
N. Massapequa, N.Y.
at the tap of
the baton . . .
  Minna Lerman
June 1, 1991
Havertown, Pa.
both cats
beside the big glass vase
the chrysanthemums
  M. M. Nichols
June 14, 1991
New York, N.Y.
gathered in a white apron
seed for next spring's planting
  Lequita Vance
June 23, 1991
Carmel, Calif.

Frogpond XV:2 (fall-winter issue)
Peter Duppenthaler

falling leaves
day by day
the house grows brighter


Frogpond XV:2 (fall-winter issue)
Wilma M. Erwin

         darkening path
the white morning glories
         lead the way



Frogpond XIV:1
Sandra Fuhringer

    in a backyard
two women folding sunlight
    into sheets


Frogpond XIV:1
Cor van den Heuvel

the billboard’s shadow
a haiku/senryu sequence

late autumn
the billboard's shadow leans
into the woods

from the stream
two mallards fly straight up
through falling leaves

new year's eve blizzard—
a neon beer-sign glows
behind the steamed window

spring breeze
the woods road is still wet
under the pines

the old watering can
hangs one more rainbow
among the roses

the evening paper
on the darkening lawn—
first star

a letter stuck
in the 11th floor mail chute—
summer night

the blues singer
tells how bad it is
then the sax tells you too

quiet afternoon—
in the meadow, one daisy
leans on another

at the end of a tunnel in the clouds
a sunlit billow

crossing the tracks
at twilight—
the autumn wind

chilly sunrise
a strip of bark flutters
on the lake-side birch

twiddling my thumbs
the sun goes down,
the moon comes up

winter drizzle—
unloading a crate of live ducks
behind the chinatown restaurant

snow melts by the hardware counter—
the squares of color
in the paint catalog

in the mirrors on her dress
little pieces of my

a few blocks
from the street festival—
the evening quiet

at the pow-wow—
they pass out ordinary saltines
for the ceremony

while his passengers sleep,
the bus driver watches dawn

by the lawn's edge,
the dog barks at the darkness
then looks back at me

dead end—
a few leaves circle
in the headlights

late at night—
a woman alone in the restaurant
addressing christmas cards

snowy morning
the barber appears
in his mirrors

the columbine still

changing pitchers—
the base-runner looks up
at a passing cloud

in the subway
the young conductor cues
imaginary oboes

climbing the stairs
more slowly—
autumn evening

the frozen puddle—
kids slide over a pattern
of red leaves

snow drifts
above the bear's den
starry night

cold spring rain—
a piece of grass sticks out of the birdhouse


Frogpond XIV:2
Ion Codrescu

Up in the sky
hardly heard, hardly seen:
migrating birds


Frogpond XIV:3
Geraldine C. Little

Earth Day: Variations with Theme

a flutter of mourning doves,
& poised, light-bathed, one faun
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

mapletree buds,
their small shadows
in water-glazed mud
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

white lilac
fragrantly exuberant
beside the porchdeck
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

putting down a book
to listen to the god
in the half-cleared brook
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

high noon
straight-up trunks of poplars shadowless
a foreshadowing ... soon, soon?
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

watching a program
on Brazil’s rain forests,
anger poisons calm
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

on the grass
two pitched-from-a-car beer cans.
unthinking ass!
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

a cardinal's song
blends with the brilliant sunset.
surely, nothing's wrong?
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

cicadas at dusk—
seventeen years hence, shall we see
substance or husk?
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes

in moonlight
swish of owl wings, this heartstab:
glitter can gloss blight
                                           nearby, a bell tolls changes


Frogpond XIV:3
vincent tripi

First spring day
melting and melting and melting
tracks of the mountain man.


Frogpond XIV:3
Hiroaki Sato, Geraldine Little, Rod Willmot, anne mckay, Jerry Kilbride, Carol Wainright, Stephen Gould, Adele Kenny, Hal Roth, Ruth Eshbaugh, vincent tripi, Michael Dudley, Lee Scott.

Green a-Glitter

1. Green a-glitter
fluttering in the sun:
the wind shines
hs 5/24/86
2. a butterfly’s shadow
crosses the artist’s blank canvas
3. the spare lines
of a wishbone
on the mauve plate
4. under the branches, toward
the compost heap
5. shovelfuls of stinking earth
bring a whiff
of incense
6. with a soft singing tongue
these strangers in sanctuary
7. so bright the night of seventh moon
gathering strawberries
                                     cool and sweet
8. red smudges of dawn
on the curling river
9. odor of tea
rises in steam
from the dragon pot
10. barely a glimpse
of its ruby throat
11. in the stillness
the river
drips from her paddle
12. under the surface tension,
subsurface tension
13. for a little time
the dial tone
after you’ve gone
14. washing your lips
from the crystal glass
15. beyond our silence
a train whistle
into the distance
16. through a pale blue haze
the plummeting hawk
17. sharp memories
return an old fear
the glare of sun on glass
18. honeymoon over
his clothes in the moonlight
19. on the rock
net cast again
deep brine waters
20. sparkling:
                                my scaly fish hands
21. shore flowers
22. an aged odalisque
breathes fire
23. surfeited
with tortellini:
rain outside
24. faint perfume wafts
from his hung-up damp coat
25. out all night,
the cat curls up
in the closet’s darkness

my son is whispering
with a snail-shell

27. plasticine worms:
their colors gone
into sunset’s burn
28. at twilight
the reapers’ last returning
29. her scarlet skirt
           to the fiddler’s tune
30. film flaps to a stop
in the projector
31. afterimage
of jane darwell’s eyes
on california
32. a fly lands on the mirror
… goes off again
33. in the ochre vase
seven lilies opened yesterday
three today
34. the tabernacle.
doors thrown wide
35. Jesus Christ among guards
the garden caught
in shadows of the moon
36. on the unmarked grave
a mockingbird
37. checking locks
as the rain
38. wet earth, the smell of it
again she turns in her sleep
39. a purple dawn
last of the butter beans
fill their pods
40. wintered reeds rattle
words that pierce
41. egret in flight
onion skin pages
turn over in the wind
42. he wails the blues, trumpet player
alone on the darkened stage
43. “it’s nothing but an act”
she shouts
the dogwood turning red
44. in a drunken torpor
dream of stubborn love
45. she wakes
to apple scent and reeling
maple leaves
46. jobless, letting the dog
run off in the moonless night
47. beyond
               greener pastures
                               … that never were
48. and yet woodstock
still resonates
49. scatterflies on the window —
the silence of bloodroot
beneath the leaves
50. vigil lights
dissolving old feuds
51. my own name
in the family Bible
52. another year ends
snow dusted on the foothills
53. wind
where the pines
and blackness meet
54. all night he listens
for the wild geese
55. occasional shots
of Jack Daniels:
56. no longer idyllic;
few places are
57. votive lights
shivering—all those earthquake
Armenian dead
58. seeding the compost pile
with earthworms       again
59. dark place
where square grows round
and words                                          glow bright
60. even in the computer
a drift of yellow pollen
61. shaping
                the poem

a bright structure
neon green

63. planetarium music . . .
the blind boy’s fingers
land on the moon
64. across the milky way to sado
                                   in braille
65. coming up the coast
the cry of snowgeese
darkened by snow
66. as if the tide
broke free of the shore
67. under the peak,
cold fog blows
against petrified reeds
68. uptrail, bristlecone
looming and rimy
69. pale stars
flickering over
our snow angels
70. called back in middle age
to a childhood home
71. along the road to mother’s
summer grasses
                          already brown
72. a piece of driftwood
for the plastic bird
73. out of season
amaryllis bloom
blood red
74. rustle of bracken
cloud hidden moon      reappears
75. the mime’s hat
a little hole
large enough for crickets
76. salmon’s tail
river dancing
77. silvery fog
moves in across the shore
up the cliff
78. wistful thoughts of
youthful warmth
79. the fire leaps—
my grandson’s first Christmas Eve
80. lights out all the stockings
stuffed with starlight
81. so late, and on the pond
someone skating—
a gleam, a scrape
82. a splash of sparks
a whirring stone
83. centered
                by north light
the potter’s wheel
84. small dreams
curve within her hands
85. spectrums of color
volley back into themselves
86. a shriek from somewhere
at the masked ball
87. walking home at dawn
a witch
with a shoe in each hand
88. on the pilings
barnacles wait for the tide

89. groan
and thunder of the stream at flood
remote as childhood
90. two last oar-swirls
finally still
91. a kingfisher
diving into
the moon
92. the golden hooves
of the carousel horse
93. a plover circles —
just beyond the sawgrass
there are graves
94. I miss the flash
of her white teeth
95. between darkness
                  and light
the flutter of a moth
96. the night’s sound
where all the hard words go
97. Hike up the mountain …
the book about God
weighs me down.
98. Old footbridge …
past looking

after heavy rain
the moon appears, bright,
over the marsh

100. all the dreams linger,
unfaded, still
hs 9/24/90

Frogpond XIV:4
Ruth Yarrow

night storm —
a deeper dark unrolls
across the prairie


Frogpond XIV:4
John J. Dunphy

Return to the Wall
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Washington, DC

removing her wedding ring
she brushes ¡t along
her husband's name

son of an MIA
the flag pin on his lapel

woman touches a name
while looking at
an old photo

elderly couple
their faces reflected
over their son's name

man in a filthy army jacket
tries to scratch on
his name

a candle
left burning on the ground
its flame almost out

Note: "The Wall," born of the author’s first impressions of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, appeared in the November 1988 issue of Frogpond.



Frogpond XIII:1
Frank K. Robinson

     anzio beach …
           another wave gathers
and breaks


Frogpond XIII:1
Elliot Richman


How many dew drops make up these walls?

On razor wire
squats a crow—
winter night

The guards in their towers:
silk worms in cocoons of light

Black-uniformed winter fly
greeting me
behind bullet-proof glass

Walls of ice
      deep in forests
            frozen frogponds

My silver shackles—
gossamer threads
under these stars

Old guard escorting me
       coughing like bullfrog
             cigarette smoke for breath

Prison cat in shadows
stalking the shaft of searchlight

Capturing snowflake fireflies with my tongue

Beating time with nightstick,
cricket sound
while I urinate

Oh, winter moon,
what have you done now
keep-locked with the mountains?

A thousand temple bells—
the noise of the cell block

Suddenly they all look like green bullfrogs!

Decorating my cell again
     I notice roommate—
         a silverfish on my pillow

From out of Henderson’s Haiku,
     my old wife’s photograph:
           cells doors automatically locking.


Frogpond XIII:2
Wally Swist

soothing rain:
the mown meadow releases
pungence of mint


Frogpond XIII:2
anne mckay elizabeth st jacques
september 88 october 89
british columbia ontario

collecting early colors      linked lines

and now the rains      and grey silk rivers a
     river rocks collecting early colors e
a silvered thimble too      in the magpie's nest a
     blackwinged birds      echoes zigzag orange e
remembering the mark of zorro ... a
     midnight moon      the cougar's intense eyes e
catscradle      quick between small fingers a
     daily grows the first snowman e
but so few     the carolers this year a
     streetcorner santas     tambourines and bells e
returning soon     the gypsies     the dance a
     now sun incites soft trickling songs e
and again     the seven days of poppies     rushing red a
     on the female statue     a blush of moss e
this hourglass     reminding me     reminding me a
     ... twenty aprils since your dandelion pleasures e
spilling the wine     bright drops of pizzicato a
     a mouse scurries from the silo e

the clock strikes twelve … and all's well


     monks in mantra file


always     and softly     the voice of the drum


     rhythm met by moccasins


small water snake … consider the form     the beauty

     the carrot peel     its curl e

sharpening the knife     his sly smile


     she hums     silver on her fingernails


this last night of august     night of the halfmoon


     tiny echoes     her moonstone rosary


in the nave     sparrow     resting with ‘our lady of sorrows’


     small bleached bones     in a nest of leaves


forgotten now     those songs from the children’s hour


     clown     tipping his invisible hat


dreamspinners drift away with dawn     grey on grey


     a cloud in the cup’s tealeaves

sealed and cool     jars of blackberries     and blue a

     her pride …     this autumn ritual


Frogpond XIII:3
W.C. Ginn

Butterfly shadows …
     not finding
          the butterfly


Frogpond XIII:3
Edward J. Rielly

Abandoned Farmhouse

abandoned farmhouse:
bird nest in the mail box
also deserted

abandoned farmhouse:
wallpaper peeling back to
my childhood

abandoned farmhouse:
something scratching
inside the furnace

abandoned farmhouse:
the quiet bedroom where I
feared the dark

abandoned farmhouse: a
yellowed grocery list taped
to the counter top

abandoned farmhouse: a
moth flies out of the water

abandoned farmhouse:
my daughter
snaps pictures of our visit


Frogpond XIII:4
Tom Tico

Into old pots and pans
thrown out in the backyard—
the musical rain


Frogpond XIII:4
Anita Virgil

New Orleans Wedding

here & there
in bare treetops

in a shabby motel
all night
treefrogs in rain

in the swamp ...
a house on stilts


family get-together
all the eyes all the feelers
all the hands tearing shrimp

morning in the French Quarter
café au lait &
beignets      with sparrows

the river wind blows
into the Quarter
& through his saxophone

on the riverfront
a stranger
takes my smile

the breeze
off the Mississippi
fills my skirt

behind grillwork
down darkness to sun
in a hidden courtyard

cool the alley
through the grillwork swirls
cat pee smell

in the morning shops
half the doorways
fill with shade

all the Mardi Gras colors
in the masks
in the houses

on the iron lace balconies
only flowers

from the suite dusk
fills in the river
& all the tiny lights are slow


huge limbs of the live oak
their reaching out
over the young grass

     in a pecan grove
wandering spring shadows
     cows & blackbirds

parked on the runway
its wings drooped     a B-52
the winter sun

the slow day ...
in the empty motel corridor
a stack of dirty dishes

sundown in the empty bar
the player-piano keys

the big waitress departs
the china teapot

January sun ...
the cotton fields
dotted with leftovers




Frogpond XII:1
Ruth Yarrow

longest night—
his forehead burning
into my hand


Frogpond XII:1
Sanford Goldstein, Niigata, October 1987

Records of a Well-Polished Satchel: #6 Angles of Loneliness

what passion
you had, Akiko—
where can I put
even an inch
of tonight's anguish!

chocolate squares—
oh, it's a lonely beginning
this first night of return
to Japan

under this Basholess
pre-dawn sky
how rough
the angle of loneliness
along this eastern sea

like a puzzle
in a child's hand,
that back before me
in the pre-dawn dark

is it a walking
immense the black
over that bent-against-the-wind
angle of loneliness

a crane
skipping before me
on this seaside road,
its leg
a karate lift?

I hug
the boy to me—
how brave he was to point and say
This is a pencil
This is a cup

on my office couch
I lean back,
this Nescafe's
the length of my desire

in this bare
late-afternoon life
I make
my bare dinner
and set out fork and knife

to embrace
even a sleeve—
lonely angle


Frogpond XII:2
Paul O. Williams

gone from the wood
      the bird I knew
           by song alone


Frogpond XII:2
The Bodners: Richard, Virginia, Gus, Gita

Flashes of Sunset . . . All the Way Home

Flashes of sunset
between the cars
the eastbound freight
old railroad tracks
bobbing sunflowers surround
the turquoise outhouse
violet aster
still bright
behind me
in blue-black ocean night
the ferry's churning white wake
fades in the distance
Gita Bodner
after her phonecall
following wet footprints
back to the bath
hikers at dusk
spilling with shadows
out the canyon mouth
high country
feeling the forest
hidden in the dark
sleeping in his bed
—a dream
of her grandson's return
Richard Bodner
Honolulu airport
breathing wet warm air
sniffs of unknown flowers
road to Ooty:

wrestling on the edge
of the State Fisheries tank
—two soaked monkeys
sunrise didj at Ulsoor Lake
dobi-wallahs slap
their morning loads on stone
mountain hotspring
snowflakes sink in
the rising steam
Gus Bodner
waking my daughter
frost-flowers on the window
from her breath
driving to meet our son
—nighthawks fly
before the storm cloud
past the plane's great wing
a strip of thin grass shimmers
in the jet wind
wet pavement
the smell of sage
all the way home
Virginia Bodner

Notes: didj/didjeridoo: an aboriginal instrument; dobi-wallahs: washer-persons


Frogpond XII:3
Andrew J. Grossman

on Lookout Rock
one step
to the red hawk


Frogpond XII:3
Gregory McNamee

Six Ways of Seeing Summer Rain

A red shaft of light
dances on your moist eyelids:
the searing morning.

Frog Mountain rises
to arch its back in the clouds:
unforeseen downpour.

Three men and three birds
stand still in the forest, all
surprised by rain.

Rain like the Deluge:
a mudspattered Apache
sings in Cibecue.

The day hides itself
within a grove of aspen.
Thunder pursues it.

Uprooted clouds:
Summer holds the pale mountains,
calls down the clear night.


Frogpond XII:4
Charles B. Dickson

cajun cabin …
the aroma of hot gumbo
floats on the bayou


Frogpond XII:4
Marian Olson

Beachfront Suicide: Reflections at Dusk

The tide of gulls breaks
like a scattering wave

Gathering silence
in my mind is
the hardest thing to do

Against the wind's chill
I button my sweater
feet dug in sand

The sun slips low
a carnelian red paving
the water with dark light

How many wanderers
have followed the sun

(The girl with the soul
of a gull
never came back)

purl like schools of fish
in dangerous waters

without breath without answers
a broken shell




Frogpond XI:1
Nicholas Virgilio

on the cardboard box
    holding the frozen wino:
        Fragile: Do Not Crush


Frogpond XI:1
Doris Heitmeyer

Wintering Over: New York Haiku

From the fire escape
    the cry of the mourning dove
          wintering over

New condominium
    its exhaust grate claimed by
         a new derelict

Wind chill minus five
     the piercing whistles
           of the starlings

The young mother
     stoops to warm the child's mittens
           between her gloves

Between lace curtains
     the white cat's eyes
          follow a snowflake

A crow flies down
     to land in the new snow
          its voice ringing

Madison Avenue
     a row of ginkgoes mulched
          with old Xmas trees

Suet on a string
      suspended from a snowy branch
            three sparrows make it spin

In the shadow of
    office buildings, bagpiper's
         Amazing Grace


Frogpond XI:2
Ann Atwood

Last night’s fading dream …
On the blue teapot birds drift
beyond the willows


Frogpond XI:2
Johnny Baranski, 065811, Spring 1987

Shohomish County Jail Haiku
For Karol

Under cloudless skies;
nuclear resister jailed
   missiles free to fly

    April sun slanting
across the exercise yard
      jail-bar shadows

        Basketball stops
     in the exercise yard—
convicts shoot the breeze

               This heat!
snow-clad mountains framed
      by my jail cell window

          Little ladybug
caught after visiting hours:
    doing jail time, too

   Starting a new month
in Snohomish County Jail;
      same old tea bag

Chilly June morning—
    in a spider web
the jailhouse fly hangs

Sixty day jail term—
as it grows shorter
my growing beard


Frogpond XI:3
Alexis Rotella

a swallowtail
on the prize-winning quilt


Frogpond XI:3
Frederick Gasser

Walking Home on a Summer Afternoon

summer afternoon—
the priest takes a blue pencil
from the blind man

coming up through
a gap in the city bridge. .
a checkerspot butterfly

a checkerspot in its sound
shifts direction

dog coming out
with the cathedral crowd. .
tail upward

half way home
pole shadows reach across
the widening road

train whistle—
two jets wrap the sky
with mist

a block from home
a pair of rain drops find
my haiku notes


Frogpond XI:4
James Minor

snow geese
Sarah discovers
the letter V


Frogpond XI:4
Michael McNierney


twenty years later
you taste the same

through two marriages
framed behind Beethoven
your picture

talking with him
I taste you
in the tea you serve

on your porch
only the breeze
moves between us

in the dark car
the scent of you
and the rainy fields

juice from the apple
runs into my beard
as I wait for you

in the mirror
the only picture
of us together

your perfume—
looking up startled
at a stranger

in the cold fireplace
my last letter




Frogpond X:1
Jerry Kilbride

still in the taste
of afternoon tea,
my grandmother’s brogue


Frogpond X:2
Eugene Warren [Gene Doty]

a horse-drawn plow:
sunflowers stand
in the traces


Frogpond X:3
Geraldine Clinton Little

           pulling sound
                                   from the wind


Frogpond X:4
Carol Dagenhardt

     walking alone
the way oak leaves
     refuse to fall




Frogpond IX:1
Jane Reichhold

a steady rain
the dentist’s drill
turning to snow


Frogpond IX:2
Ruby Spriggs

top of the falls
     your voice somewhere
in its sound


Frogpond IX:3
John-Bruce Shoemaker

The worm
far out on this paved lot
more rain


Frogpond IX:4
Marlene Mountain

autumn dusk the crooked road home




Frogpond VIII:1
Sylvia Forges-Ryan

winter morning—
the closet dark with
old shoes


Frogpond VIII:2
George Swede

The family gathered—
a tear of embalming fluid runs
from my brother’s eye


Frogpond VIII:3
Bill Pauly

a moth flies
through my breath
in moonlight


Frogpond VIII:4
Peggy Willis Lyles

bitter wind …
the hand that cups the flame




Frogpond VII:1
David LeCount

The sound of scissors
through quilt stuffing:
     chill autumn moon


Frogpond VII:1
Charles D. Nethaway, Jr.

autumn maple
a gust of yellow scatters
the child’s laughter


Frogpond VII:2
Alexis Rotella

autumn sky
the wind folds and unfolds
a flock of sparrows


Frogpond VII:3
Jane Reichhold

moving into the sun
the pony takes with him
some mountain shadow


Frogpond VII:4
Rod Willmot

  paddling slowly
 through the reeds
that touch her hair



Frogpond VI:1
Lenard D. Moore

    the old woman
looking into the stars
     sky all snowy


Frogpond VI:2
Alexis Kaye Rotella

Against his coat
I brush my lips—
the silence of snowflakes


Frogpond VI:3
Rod Willmot

away from eyes
the stairwell holds
us in its arms


Frogpond VI:4
Bruce Kennedy

that sonofabitch
on the corner has a knife—
the rain glistens on it




Frogpond V:1
Alexis Rotella



Frogpond V:2
Stephen Gould

Winter’s end
   a bitterness remaining
        in the dried apricots


Frogpond V:3
Paul O. Williams

the old garden fence
now keeps the goldenrod
from the goldenrod


Frogpond V:4
George Swede

Thin icicles
on the telephone wire
her distant voice




Frogpond IV:1
Tadashi Kondo

hoping the shape
of the navel will be good
father cuts the cord


Frogpond IV:2
Elizabeth Searle Lamb

one cricket       sound and silence lighting the autumn garden


Frogpond IV:3
Ruth Yarrow

hot rock by the stream
each of the baby’s toeprints


Frogpond IV:4
Ruby Spriggs

switching off the light
switching off the shadows




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