Haiku Society of America Renku Awards
			    in Memorial  of Bernard Lionel Einbond
			  
              
                
~ ~ ~
                HSA Renku Awards for 2005
              
              Judson Evans, William J. Higginson, 
        Hortensia Anderson
judges 
              
                First Place
                
                  City on the Hill
                  John Stevenson
                    Merrill Ann Gonzales 
                
                ~ ~ ~ 
                City on the Hill
              
                
                  
                    city on the hill 
                      offering up 
                      an aura of green 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                      
                    prize peonies 
                      grow in your garden 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      the language 
                      of the honeybee
                      in wide use 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                                        Bach's Little Fugue 
                      fills the room
                    
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                    crescent moon 
                      at the tip
                      of a mitten 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      under Orion I long 
                      for an embracing warmth 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      Juliet awakens,
                      as she was promised,
                      in a tomb 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      gypsum chandeliers
                      dazzle in the cave
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      tandoori chicken 
                      arrives at the the table
                      with a sizzle 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      the feathers must be 
                      tied 
                      in just the right way 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m 
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                    we wander 
                      pathless heavens 
                      in our hot air balloon 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      fewer this year 
                      at the class reunion 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      along the boardwalk
                      the words and looks
                        of those in love
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      brushing fallen leaves 
                      from your hair 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      bright moon 
                      turns the shack 
                      to gold
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      "I'm supposed to 
                      be 
                      Rumplestiltskin!"
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                    the day
                      draws near
                      for the birth 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                    bluffing
                      with a pair of deuces
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                    morning shadows strawberry blossoms
                      for us to find
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              m
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                      the beachcomber's
                      widening smile. 
                    
                      
                        
                          
                            
                              J
                            
                            
                          
                        
                    
                  
                  
              
              ~ ~ ~ 
              
              
              
                  Honorable Mention
                
                    Twitter
                    Peggy Willis Lyles
                      Mark Brooks
                      Christopher Herold, 
                      Paul MacNeil
                      Billie Wilson
                      Carol O'Dell
                  
                      ~ ~ ~ 
                    
                  
                  
                    
                      Twitter
                      
                        the twitter 
                        growing louder . . . 
                        sunrise 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          snowmelt creeks gather 
                          into a mountain stream 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          rust I've filed
                          from lawnmower blades 
                          falls to the shed floor 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          her #2 pencils 
                        all perfect points 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          for now
                          only the moon 
                          and the outlined pine 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          Dad pours the sweet 
                        smell of apples 
                        into jam jars
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          are those trick-or-treat bags
                          on the trunk 
                          of the stretch limousine? 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          yoga students stop 
                        to watch
                        a cat lick its loins
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          the grit 
                          of beach sand 
                          between us 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          so slowly he slips 
                        off 
                        my silk stockings
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          after the bellman leaves
                          the sudden arc
                            of champagne 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          a frayed Macbeth 
                        forgotten in the rain
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          moonlight fades 
                          blood on a street 
                          through Pamplona 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          another base hit 
                        for the hometown girls
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          once organic carbon 
                          now a famous diamond 
                          on display
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                           the death row inmate 
                          describes her cotillion 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          wisteria blooming
                          in the shadows
                          of a crenelated wall 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          your 
                          beehives stacked
                          by a furrowed field 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          "Honey, 
                          help me tie these balloons 
                          and then clean up that room."
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          poof! 
                          no more debt 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          fingers crossed 
                          as they fervently pledge 
                          eternal love 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          wooing 
                          his angel
                        with a harp serenade 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          turns out 
                          she never did like
                          cigar smoke
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          it starts to frost over 
                          the analyst's windows 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          northern lights 
                          crackle above 
                          withered gardens 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          pop 
                          art posters 
                          glued to cork 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          across the dorm hall 
                          a guy in his bathrobe 
                          with wild eyes 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          audience cheers or jeers 
                          vote the best comic 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          the full moon 
                          appearing as a crescent 
                          on each drop of dew 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          a 
                          red leaf 
                          wrenched loose by the wind 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          my scarecrow grips 
                          a photo of Mao Tse Tung 
                          and reeks of patchouli
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  ch 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                           "How many tears 
                          shall we cry?" 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  mb 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          ten thimbles 
                          on consignment 
                          at the needlework shop 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pwl 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          an old lady twirls 
                          then catches her cane 
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  pm 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          dervishes
                          mesmerized 
                            by cherry blossoms
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  bw 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                          becoming 
                          part of your dream
                          rhythms of the spring sea
                        
                          
                            
                              
                                
                                  co 
                                
                              
                            
                          
                        
                      
                    
                  
              
              ~ ~ ~
                
			 
		 
		 
		 
		The Haiku Society of America sposors this annual award for renku of 36, 20, or 12 stanzas. 
        See  the contest guidelines for the HSA Renku Awards. 
        For more information about the goals of this contest, download a copy of the HSA Renku Contest Committee Report (pdf) published in Frogpod XIII:2 (May 1990). 
        Awards by year: 
        | 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | 2014 | 2013 | 2012 | 2011 | 2010 | 2009 | 2008 | 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 |
         
        2005 judges commentary: 
        First Place - City on the Hill
        While it maintains variety and forward momentum, "City on the Hill" simultaneously establishes a sense of complex unity by the cross-association of several overarching themes. It establishes a sense of doublenessÑ"city on the hill" seems both a real and present place and a utopian space in imagination. This doubleness works through the preface; after a more general opening verse, the wakiku brings the context of the city down to earthÑthis is a real place, home to one particular urban person, with a specific plant in a real garden. Then, the daisan opens up the fanciful, utopian dimension of this place: "the language/ of the honeybee/ in wide use". The wide is particularly effective in letting the reader re-contextualize the "place" as an imaginative invention like the spaces of Hesiod's Works and Days or Thoreau's Walden channeled through Yeats. The fourth stanza moves further into the realm of the shaping imagination and its connection to patterns in nature with Bach's "Little Fugue". Thus the opening section suggests a link between a utopian community and a real human place in nature, between the community at large and the individual, with the emphasis on the community. 
        The piece shows some wonderful tonal control. For example, the move from "we wander/ pathless heavens/ in our hot air balloon" to "fewer this year/ at the class reunion". On one level there is a mysterious elegiac backward pull that can let us read the hot air balloon ride as a kind of afterlife of the dead classmates. On another, there's the link between hot air and the empty small talk of the reunion that pulls in another direction without canceling or muting the previous association. We enjoyed these subtleties here and again, as in the expostulation that identifies "I'm supposed to be / Rumplestiltskin!" as relating to Hallowe'en, rather than using an obvious season word. This humorous tone plays well against an unpretentious use of cultural references that includes Bach and Shakespeare as well as the fairy tale. The images are concrete, but a subtle sub-text of relationships between people and between us and our environments runs throughout. All this despite the great variety of shifting images and situations that renku demands. 
        One interesting note: The authors of "City on the Hill" apparently chose consciously to observe the common "astronomical" seasons, rather than the traditional seasons of Japanese poetry that govern virtually all season-word lists. For example, we have "peonies" in the wakiku, which are normally an early summer topic in renku; here they serve to continue the spring imagery of the hokku. Later on, "fallen leaves" appears in a verse that must be in autumn according to its position and surroundings, though the set phrase "fallen leaves" is firmly in winter in the traditional Japanese view of the seasons. These references clearly alert the reader to which seasonal system is in play, and since the whole poem works consistently within this common understanding of the seasons, this feature seems an aspect of the poem's uniqueness, not a fault. (It's a bit like the use of a dictionary in Scrabble; the group has to agree on one, and then stick to it.) 
        There are a few problems with "City on the Hill" which kept us from moving it to a Grand Prize level, as could happen in this contest. In the preface, there is an immediate throwback of place-person-place. This kind of throwback did not reappear, however, and the general observance of the fine points of person-place variation in this poem is part of what set it above all of the kasen. At the same time, greater variety in linking methods would have improved this poem. A spate of linking by word rather than meaning or scent on the second side threatened to slow down the development, then the third side shifted to mainly meaning linkages. And the stanzas of "City on the Hill" often seem a bit shorter than they need be, with an occasional movement from a very brief three-liner to a two-liner actually longer both aurally and in syllable count. This tends to upset the prosodic rhythm, and is an area that all of our renku poets could pay more attention to. Finally, having two verses about blossoming flowers is nice, though not required in this short form; but having used a non-traditional blossom in the opening, if one wanted a blossom at the end it would be more traditional to at least use a blossoming tree. 
        These comments should not discourage the authors, however, as "City on the Hill" reads well and was enjoyed by all three judges on each round of reading and commenting on the renku.
        ~ ~ ~        
        
        xxxx judges commentary: 
        Honorable Mention - Twitter
        "Twitter" seems particularly fresh with its move from auditory to visual to tactile sensory images in the first three stanzas. And what has already been a sensuously rich opening ends with smell, from pine to apple. The seasons are particularly well handled throughout. 
        A number of linked pairs seem memorable: the #2 pencils suggest the beginning of school while also introducing the yellow/orange color of an autumn moon. The writers create first an exotic scene in "moonlight fades / blood on a street / through Pamplona", then move to a more mundane, local contest "another base hit / for the hometown girls." This pair's scent link is followed by a word link with "once organic carbon / now a famous diamond / on display". One judge laughed out loud at the link from a spouse asking "Honey" to help "tie these balloons / and then clean up that room" to "poof! / no more debt". This kind of variety in linking and the shifting meaning as a stanza plays first against the previous verse, then against the following, greatly enhances the readability of the renku. 
        The main problem with "Twitter" is the authors' apparent lack of awareness of the need for variety in person-place, which tended to bog down in runs of verses all from the same point of view, such as the run of "other" verses from 18 to 24 (verses about an apparent third person), and a preponderance of place verses (no people present) from 25 to 30, with the last three also all "other". Greater variety in this department, along with a little more attention to alternating stanza length and weight and avoiding almost telegraphically short stanzas, would have placed "Twitter" at the top of our list. 
        ~ ~ ~