International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Michelle Schaefer

why is the sky blue?

Photo: Optick/Creative Commons/Flickr

Michelle Schaefer writes of lace and sea glass in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

sea glass
I find myself
piece by piece

With its sharp edges worn smooth by the tumult of the ocean, “sea glass” is a beautiful metaphor for what, ideally, happens to us over the course of our lives.  The self-possessed older woman who embodies that special kind of ease in her own skin didn’t necessarily get there easily or overnight.  She likely had to comb a lot of beaches and pick up loads of flotsam and jetsam before finding the lovely sea-gems that sit well in her soul.  Schaefer’s poem gives us a road map – let the ocean of life smooth out our rough edges – and reveals the wabi-sabi kind of beauty of the works-in-progress that we are.

***

the edge of lace
no
still means no

The classic decoration for women’s undergarments, lace is a vivid signifier of feminine sexual intimacy.  Intriguingly, “the edge of lace” is serrated like a knife blade and, in Schaefer’s poem, suggests a protective boundary or even a weapon against sexual violence.  The lace metaphor here is an extraordinary symbol of a woman’s right to autonomy and a reminder of boundaries that are not to be transgressed.

Michelle Schaefer is a poet-in-progress.  She has spent many years learning and writing the art form of haiku.  She has been published in various haiku journals and anthologies.  Her poetry can be found in Acorn, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Mariposa and Heron’s Nest.  She is also featured in NY Seitkatsu’s online publication as a regular semifinalist in the Ito En Haiku Grand Prix.  She has recently won Frogpond‘s Museum of Haiku Literature Award in its most recent volume.  She hopes that poetry touches people in extraordinary ways.  She lives in Bothell, WA with her husband.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Haiku by Debbi Antebi

Moonflower, illuminated by the moon

Photo: Mike Lewinski/Creative Commons/Flickr

Debbi Antebi writes about moonflowers and our mothers’ dreams in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

moonflowers
mother opens up
about her dreams

Because it happens so often, a woman’s setting her dreams aside to nurture other people has become almost a cliché.  The ethereal image of the night-blooming moonflower imbues the mother’s inner awakening – under cover of darkness – with hope.  Maybe it’s not too late for her to rekindle those old passions, to tap into her unique potential, and to nurture the pars of herself that have for so long been eclipsed.

Debbi Antebi (@debbisland) lives in London, UK, with her beloved husband and books.  Her work has been featured in magazines and journals around the world.  An award winning poet and a member of the British Haiku Society, she exhales oxygen while writing poems.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Amy Losak

Peel

Photo: Scott Robinson/Creative Commons/Flickr

Amy Losak explores the plight of the older woman in the workplace in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

millennial workplace
the boomer colors her gray
more often

Western culture’s obsession with youth is in part responsible for making aging more spiritually difficult than it needs to be.  And even though millennials have a bit of a PR problem when it comes to common (mis?)perceptions of their work ethic, younger workers still seem more highly valued than older ones.  Raise all of this to the third or fourth power when it comes to women, in particular.  Losak’s “boomer” –  who can hope only to erase with the dye bottle the effects of the years because the years themselves won’t come off – is a sympathetic character who speaks for many.

***

peeling tree bark
she hides her spotted hands
in the interview

Losak’s haiku paints a picture of an aging woman’s subtle act of desperation.  Surely the spots on the hands are not the only clues about the woman’s age, but they might be the only clues the woman thinks she can hide from those who hold in their hands the fate of her livelihood.

Amy Losak, of Teaneck, NJ, is a public relations professional.  She recently started writing haiku and senryu in honor of her late mother, Sydell Rosenberg, a charter member of the Haiku Society of America in 1968 who published her work in journals and anthologies.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Debbie Strange

edited_imagePhoto: Patrick Lentz/Creative Commons/Flickr

Canadian poet Debbie Strange sees strength in a cancer diagnosis and humor in a pair of skinny jeans in today’s feature in the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

cirrus clouds . . .
she donates hair
before chemo

Debbie Strange turns those wispy clouds that look like pony tails into locks of hair on the stylist’s floor.  The woman in this haiku is a picture of proactivity, strength, and generosity in the face of possible death, embracing her diagnosis with eyes and heart wide open.

***

laundry day . . .
my skinny jeans
fat with wind

It’s not enough that the thought of wearing skinny jeans strikes fear and dread in the hearts of some; the wind has to rub it in.  The image of the puffed-up skinny jeans pokes fun at our warped obsession with weight and body image, leaving us to laugh at how quickly we abandon more noble constructs of authentic beauty, and thus the paths to true contentment, in the pursuit of pretty packaging.

Debbie Strange‘s creative pursuits bring her closer to understanding the world and herself. She is an award-winning Canadian short form poet, haiga artist, and photographer. Debbie is the author of Warp and Weft, Tanka Threads (Keibooks 2015) and A Year Unfolding (Folded Word 2017). You are invited to visit her @Debbie_Strange.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Marietta McGregor

moods of a rose-luminous

Photo: Leslie Main-Johnson/Creative Commons/Flickr

Marietta McGregor’s haiku are full of unfolding roses and spidery script in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

unfolding rose…
i stroke her hand
around the cannula

The paradox of the unfolding rose is that, as vibrant and beautiful as it is, it is also in the process of dying.  This haiku is full of life and death, of the frailty of the flesh and of the love that sustains us through all trials, connecting us even across the divide.

***

attic spring-clean…
her spidery script
a brittle scorecard

The spiders that we imagine are uncovered in the “attic spring-clean” and the “spidery script” on old items convey a masterfully subtle relational discomfort.  And all of it packed away in the attic, hidden in the remote recesses of the private realm, suspended in a web of unease.

Marietta McGregor is a Tasmanian botanist and journalist who lives in Canberra.  Her haiku, haibun, and haiga appear in international journals and anthologies, and have been featured on Japanese television.  She has gained poetry awards in Japan, the UK, the US, and Australia.  She belongs to the Australian Haiku Society, the Haiku Society of America, and the British Haiku Society.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Haiku by Eufemia Griffo

jared-eberhardt-the-sea-mexico

Photo: Jared Eberhardt/Creative Commons/Flickr

Eufemia Griffo writes a poignant haiku about mothers, daughters, and loss in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

misty morning
mother doesn’t remember
the colour of the sea

(For my mother)

Maybe the mother in the poem doesn’t remember the color of the sea because she has been blind from an early age.  Or maybe her memory is being devoured by dementia.  Whatever the cause, forgetting the color of the sea is a loss with profound metaphorical resonance.  The poetic speaker experiences that loss as her own, perhaps through tears in her own “misty morning.”  Griffo’s haiku touches the wound that another person’s loss opens in us.

Eufemia Griffo is an Italian writer and poet in Milan, Italy. She has published books of poetry and fiction, including L’ereditá di Dracula (The Legacy of Dracula), which she co-authored with Davide Benincasa, and has won many awards for her writing.  She blogs at The River Still Flows.  Website: http://ilsussurrodellaluna.eu/.

Find more information about the International Women’s Haiku Festival and submit your work at this link.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Lee Nash

moyan-brenn-iceland-creative-commons-flickr

Photo: Moyan Brenn/Creative Commons/Flickr

Two haiku by Lee Nash wear tight jeans and grandmother’s shawl in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

under the folds
of my grandmother’s shawl
Northern Lights

I love the image of a grandchild, whether still young or grown up, burrowed beneath her grandmother’s crocheted or knitted shawl.  The child sees light – maybe even the light of a fire in the fireplace – refracted through the natural holes in the yarn’s colorful weave, thus her own personal Northern Lights display in the warmth and safety of the little world her grandmother created.  Such coziness across the generations.

***

bumble bee
in a flower tube
my jeans feel tight

The quirky image of a bumble bee trapped in a flower tube gives the familiar image of tight jeans an offbeat twist.  Nash puts herself into the poem with the first person possessive pronoun “my,” giving us the sense that she’s talking right to us, just as a girlfriend would after an ice cream binge.

Lee Nash lives in France and freelances as an editor and proofreader.  Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in print and online journals in the UK, the US, and France, including Ambit; Angle; Ink, Sweat and Tears; Mezzo Cammin; Orbis; Poetry Salzburg Review; Sentinel Literary Quarterly; The French Literary Review; The Interpreter’s House; The Lake; and World Haiku Review. You can find a selection of Lee’s poems on her website: leenashpoetry.com.

Find more information about the International Women’s Haiku Festival and submit your work at this link.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Stella Pierides

land hermit crab

Photo: Vanessa Pike-Russell/Creative Commons/Flickr

Laughing babies meet hermit crabs in two haiku by Stella Pierides in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

juggling
a pen and a feeding spoon –
the baby’s laughter

This senryu captures a moment of the happy chaos babies bring with them everywhere.  The baby is probably laughing because he or she feels secure and happy in the presence of a familiar care taker.  But what about this whimsical possibility: The baby laughs along with us at the humorous image of the parent “juggling” pen and feeding spoon?  In any event, this laughing baby, like all laughing babies, gets the last laugh – from us.

***

hermit crab –
while ironing she dreams
of other lives

Confined to its shell, the hermit crab rarely, if ever, leaves its home.  What if the woman in this haiku could leave her shell and leave behind her domestic chores?  Would the “other lives” of which she dreams live up to her fantasies and justify sacrificing the security of her status quo?  Maybe what the woman really wishes for is simply to know she has the freedom to choose a different path and define herself anew.

Stella Pierides was born in Athens, Greece and now divides her time between Neusäss, Germany, and London, England.  She is the author of Of This World (Red Moon Press, 2017); In the Garden of Absence (Fruit Dove Press, 2012), for which she received a Haiku Society of America Merit Book Award; and Feeding the Doves (Fruit Dove Press, 2013), among others.  Stella serves on The Haiku Foundation board of directors and project manages the Per Diem: Daily Haiku feature for the Foundation. She enjoys reading, gardening, film, music, food, and working long hours.

Find more information about the International Women’s Haiku Festival and submit your work at this link.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Michael Dylan Welch

Cedar Forest

Photo: Jerry Meaden/Creative Commons/Flickr

Michael Dylan Welch writes of cedars and doilies in today’s feature in the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

rust in the cedars –
we gather again
at her favourite spot

Whose favorite spot?  A grandmother’s?  A sister’s?  A friend’s?  We don’t know, but the “rust in the cedars” and the ritual (“again”) gathering suggest the remembrance of someone now gone.  This poem rings with music: The musical sibilants in the first line – “rust in the cedars” – open the poem with a reverential whispering.  The assonance of the hard G’s on both accented syllables in the second line – “we gather again” – is a gently percussive counterbalance to the hushed first line.  There seems to be a stillness at this gathering, a moment in which to contemplate the imponderable realities of interconnection and the cycle of life.

***

lazy day at granny’s –
the doily imprint
on my daughter’s cheek

There’s an entire world in the 11 words of this senryu.  This granny with her doilies – you can see her furniture, you can hear the creak of her floors.  And the filigreed imprint of the doily on the girl’s cheek connects the girl with that family home, a sanctuary of complete and total safety.  The assonance and swung rhythm of “lazy day” intertwines seamlessly with the alliteration of “day,” “doily,” and “daughter,” uniting musically the people, time, place, and mood of a moment of simple yet profound family joy.

Michael Dylan Welch recently served two terms as poet laureate for Redmond, Washington, where he also curates two poetry reading series and directs the annual Poets in the Park festival. He runs National Haiku Writing Month (www.nahaiwrimo.com), and is a director of the biennial Haiku North America conference. Michael’s haiku, tanka, longer poems, essays, and reviews have appeared in hundreds of journals and anthologies, and one of his translations appeared on the back of 150,000,000 U.S. postage stamps. His personal website is graceguts.com. Michael lives with his wife and two children in Sammamish, Washington.

Find more information about the International Women’s Haiku Festival and submit your work at this link.

International Women’s Haiku Festival: Poems by Shloka Shankar

HPIM0944a

Photo: Michael Koolman/Creative Commons/Flickr

Shloka Shankar writes of goddesses and Rorschach tests in today’s feature of the International Women’s Haiku Festival.

omniscient narrator the goddess in me awakes

The poetic speaker’s mind generates a metanarrative of the population of her inner landscape.  At once, she is narrator and goddess and all of those other characters who live in her soul.

***

Rorschach test
the side you choose
to ignore

This poem lays bare the reality of our human hypocrisy.  We believe what we want to believe.  Especially about ourselves.

Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer from Bangalore, India.  She has happily found her niche in found poetry and Japanese short-forms alike.  Her work has appeared in close to 200 print and online venues of repute.  She co-edited naad anunaad: an anthology of contemporary world haiku (Vishwakarma Publications, 2016) and is a Best of the Net nominee.  Shloka is the founding editor of the literary & arts journal Sonic Boom.

Find more information about the International Women’s Haiku Festival and submit your work at this link.