USA

  • B.S. Dixon

    broken mirror-
    my reflection
    in all the pieces

     

  • Beate Conrad

    Foggy Stop


    In the beginning, before any beginning, even before first dawn, there was nothingness. No, not even a word. Simply nothing at all. The absolute absence of everything. The absence of any existence and of any being. The unimaginable, the unspeakable.

    "Death you mean," I add spontaneously.

    No, not even that. Death is the dissolution, the end or transformation of something that is. Of something particular. Therefore death, too, is something particular.

    „The void?“ I assume on a hunch, moving my cold toes in my boots.

    Sounds better. But still the void signifies the absence of filling the space. The space is the condition of the void. But nothingness has no condition; it is defined by nothing but itself. It is indifferent to beginning and end. It is indifferent to any condition and time by being all and nothing. And not even that.

    „Well, then, it is the word which means everything and is nothing,“ I let go triumphantly.

    „What is more comprehensive, with less determination or condition whatsoever, than the word?“ I am freezing in my thick down-jacket.

    Words exchanged
    into the heavy fog night
    arrives the last bus

     

    Beate Conrad lives in Michigan, USA. Her haiku and haiga have been awarded and appeared in a variety of print and online journals. She created several haiku related artworks combing visual arts and music.

  • Ben Gaa


    second lap in the park
    the couple
    with matching face masks

     

    back alley blackness
    catching the tail
    of the comet

     

    summer stars
    spilling out
    of a ripe tomato

     

    moon viewing
    the itch from last night’s
    mosquito

  • Ben Moeller-Gaa

    winter wind
    deepening
    our divide

     

    migrating geese
    awakening the ache
    inside me

     

  • Benson, Jan


    milking honeysuckle downpour

     

  • Benson, Jan

    green barley
    a slack tide
    of turfan silk

    Akitsu, Spring 2018

  • Benson, Jan

    pulling corn silk
    under starlight
    a single firefly

     

    first blossoms
    float upon clouds
    old pond

  • Benson, Jan

    defensive dating
    unspooling avatars again
    and again

     

  • Beverly Acuff Momoi

    during chemo
    he plays the ponies
    rarely speaks ---
    she shops the QVC channel
    looking for miracles


     
    getting her affairs
    in order, to make it easier
    for her daughter
    knowing nothing
    can make it easy


     
    the sky drizzles grey
    and tulle fog settles in the valley's
    every crevice
    just a little out of focus
    my last picture of you

  • Beverly Acuff Momoi

    mid-winter
    snow drifts reach for eaves
    in that long pause
    she knows
    he will not make it


     
    the cat retreats
    to the corner of the closet
    deep within the dark
    how often
    I choose silence

  • Bialek, Wendy C.

    after the snap
    family removed his arms
    but not the ptsd

    Failed Haiku September 2018

  • Bialek, Wendy C.

    he's so controlling
    he wants to pick out
    her next husband

     

    his temporary
    blackout - her years
    of terror flashbacks

  • Bialek, Wendy C.

                             /
    S H A T T E R                   D!
               -               I                  / -
                       \                     I
                   I                 I - I   -/

  • Bill Kenney

    autumn nightfall
    my notebook full
    of first drafts

     

    moon over water
    a song
    from the other shore

     

    lifting off the lake
    the wild geese leave
    me behind

     

    come back sparrow
    I promise to make
    lots of crumbs

     

  • Black Ice

    black ice
    I drive over
    the moon


    vape smoke escapes
    her pale white face


    early morning
    the prisoner’s breath lingers
    above barbed-wire


    tire chains left behind
    on the narrow highway


    Christmas shopping
    she tries on
    another necklace


    gold light shimmers
    across the water


    breaking news
    in the old t.v.
    drifting clouds

    trying to sleep
    in the hospital lobby


    smell of coffee
    I take another bite
    of a salad


    strangers walking briskly
    through the garden


    receding
    deep into the night
    sound of sirens


    seagulls calling
    above dim streetlamps

    dementia . . .
    waves washing away
    footprints in the sand


    migratory patterns
    in the wings of a butterfly


    check-mate 
    my neighbor gives me
    another cookie


    new cracks form
    in the marble steps


    heavy rain
    sunlight pierces through
    broken thoughts


    solving the last word
    of a crossword puzzle


    early morning . . .
    I light another journal
    on fire


    headlines trickle down
    a vacant driveway

     

  • Bottom of the 9th

    bottom of the 9th
    drops of moonlight
    on the pitcher's face

    strangers huddled together
    without names

    fly-out
    a baseball player
    waves at the moon

    under bright lights
    the constant hum of conversation

    a hushed silence
    after the pitcher throws
    another strike

    SMACK! the baseball disappears
    into the crowd

    sudden downpour
    a thousand pairs of hands
    clapping

     

  • Brad Bennett

    birdsong every now

     

    follow the leader mountain cascade

     

    between blue sky nothing

     

  • Bremson, Ed

    perfect storm...
    sounds of relief
    the day after 

    NHK Haiku Masters website, and presented on their TV. November 2017

  • brett brady

         flute notes
    fluttering
            petals

    2018 Harold G. Henderson Haiku Awards - second place

  • Bruce H. Feingold

    moonless night –
    my reclusive neighbor
    points out Jupiter

    Modern Haiku – 41.3 autumn 2010
    Republished in: evolution: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2010 (Red Moon Press, 2011)