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First Prize:
plum blossoms
I make plans
for my ashes
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Carolyn Hall
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This poem draws us in by its delicacy, that of the plum blossoms
as well as the delicate subject of considering the unthinkable
making plans for ones remains. Plum blossoms to the
Japanese are the first flower to bloom in spring, while ashes
are rather terminal. The link between the whiteness of the blossoms
and the whiteness or grayness of the ashes reverberates. The poets
aim is true, and the haiku calls out to the heart; a felt connectionhow
fragile and brief the blossoms, how fragile and brief the sum
of ones years. The poets craft is very fine: I
make is much better in this poem than making,
which most of us might have written. The sounds are exquisite:
the repetition of m, the s in blossoms and ashes,
as well as the paired 2-syllable count of these images, which
provides an echo, a bell sound reminding us to live each day in
a way that, when the time comes, allows us to plan for our passing.
Second Prize:
the piano hammers
barely moving
night snow
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John Barlow
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One barely needs to breathe when reading this poem. It is so quiet.
There is an unnamed presence, someone touching each ivory key
on the piano, that triggers the slow motion of each hammer, and,
with each white flake silently falling outside the window, one
feels utter peace in this moment of night. One can imagine a Chopin
nocturne softly played, or the gentle chord changes in Bill Evanss
Peace Piece. Hammers often evoke heavy sounds and
clamorous activity, but here the piano hammers, touched so lightly,
hardly make a sound. Our sensibility is awakened. The ellipsis
serves to slow us down even further, letting the quiet enter in.
As for the final line, what could be quieter than night
snow?
Third Prize:
dusklight
I read her poem
differently
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Jim Kacian
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Here too is a haiku of exquisite delicacy. This is the most innovative
of the haiku we selected. It speaks to the insights we discover
in changing light and all that it touches. Though not a specific
season word, dusklight gives an autumnal feeling.
It compels us to slow down, perhaps to look carefully once more
at the poem in the fading light, to open oneself to subtle meanings
and nuances that might have escaped us in the brighter light of
day. In the last line we might expect a word such as again
or carefully, but we are surprised with differently,
which reflects a deeper aspect of the haiku. There is a felt connection
with its author. It bespeaks an intimacy that, perhaps, negates
speech, but that one feels deeply with mind and heart. This haiku
links nature with human nature with a few finely chosen words.
Honorable Mention (no rank assigned):
first snow
my childs footprints no longer
fit inside of mine
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anya
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This haiku speaks to the transience of the natural and human worldsthe
snow, a child grown, the passage of time. The break after line
2 holds an element of surprise because the words no longer
could take us in any of a number of directions. The poet chooses
wisely, and we enter into the universal world of parent and child.
If only we could keep them small a little longer!
Honorable Mention (no rank assigned):
late winter
a king snake stretches
across the road
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Darrell Byrd
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Finally, it is the end of the coldest season and the hibernating
world begins to awaken. The king snake is seeking warmth and reaching
for light, and is perhaps trying to satisfy its appetite. It is
a symbol of all that we hunger for by the end of winter. The length
of the snake juxtaposes nicely with the road, a sign that well
all move more freely once spring arrives.
Honorable Mention (no rank assigned):
evening news
the soothing weight
of the quilt
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Peggy Heinrich
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Here, evening news evokes the diverse aspects of life
that weigh one down by the end of a day. We hear the discourse
repeated nightly by the newscasters who bring the world into our
living rooms and bedrooms. The line break at weight
nicely links the heaviness of the news with that of the quilt.
But the warmth of the quilt makes it all a little easier to bear,
calls us to sleep, and we awaken fresh to start a new news day.
Honorable Mention (no rank assigned):
snow flurries
the square dancers
do-si-do
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w.f. owen
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Of the haiku we selected, this one is the lightest in tone and
mood. The juxtaposition of the images is perfect, with a season
word and connection between humans and nature. The crafting of
this poem is pleasingly concise, and the s alliteration
gives us a feel for the liveliness and activity, inside and out,
in the dead of winter. We feel the play of words through the comparison
of flurries and dancers, both do-si-doing.
We can almost hear the music, and we smile every time we read
the haiku.
Honorable Mention (no rank assigned):
sunglints
off falling snow
the silent no in her smile
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Linda Jeannette Ward
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This haiku conveys an element of surprise. In line 3 we expect
yes to follow the bright image in the first line.
The poetical sunglints is a fine stroke of economy,
which adds interest and resonance to the haiku moment. The elements
throughout combine to reinforce each other. The snow is silent
too, and in the snow the no embedded there,
which the subjective eye falls on. Is there a bit of irony here,
or perhaps wistfulness? Her answer is not in her eyes or a frown,
but in her smile. One of the strengths of this poem is its ability
to intrigue and delight us.
Billie Wilson, Robert Spiess Memorial Contest
Coordinator
Francine Banwarth & Charles Trumbull, Judges
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