Shamrock Haiku Journal Readers' Choice Awards 2015

BEST HAIKU

Nine haiku have been nominated as the best of the year by our readers and contributors. The following pieces that appeared in our No. 31 were voted the best haiku published in Shamrock Haiku Journal in 2015: 

window ice
the garden thaws
in sparkles

-- Simon Hanson (Australia)


winter solstice
the footsteps of a missing dog
return

-- Mary O'Keeffe (Ireland)

The following haiku that first appeared in our No. 32 was the runner-up: 

harsh sunlight
a crow's caw
cuts the ice

-- Marion Clarke (Northern Ireland)

BEST SENRYU

Six senryu have been nominated as the best of the year by our readers and contributors. The following piece that was initially published in our No. 31 became the winner in the best senryu category:

frozen dawn
the runner recovers
in his own steam

-- David Serjeant (England)

And the runners-up were the following pieces that first appeared in our Nos. 30 and 31 respectively: 

the curious gaze
of a caged ape
my son returns it

-- John McManus (England)


a moment's interlude
the young soldier staring
at his hands

-- Anatoly Kudryavitsky (Ireland)

We congratulate the worthy winners, and express our sincere gratitude to each and every reader who cast a vote.

The prize-winning haiku from this competition are available for viewing here:

https://irishhaiku.com/haikucompetition.htm

There are excellent poems aplenty on that page; check them out!

World Children's Haiku Contest 2015-2016 

A call for Irish entries for the World Children's Haiku Contest 2015/2016 (one three-line haiku + an artwork per child from the island of Ireland under 16 years of age) organised by Japan Airlines in cooperation with the Irish Haiku Society. The winning haiku will be published in the anthology "Haiku by World Children".

The Ireland Section: rules, the entry form and more information can be found on the Irish Haiku Society website:
https://irishhaiku.com/haikucompetition.htm

All the entries shall be postmarked by 15th February 2016.

evening sky
in the blackbird's song
sheens of red


a yellow wood
sunlight angles
two pathways


spiraling
in the turbulence of stars
winter wind


moonlight
on fresh snow
the silence sparkles

-- Anton Floyd (Ireland)




cold morning―
old horse swings
side-on to winter


tidal pool―
shadows outdistance
the sea breeze


catfish boats
singing darkness
into river mud

-- Marietta Jane McGregor (Australia)




a moth flickers
between the panes...
last light


dead end
graffitied hearts
on a broken wall


rain at dusk...
dark fruit
among dark leaves

-- Jo McInerney (Australia)




sequinned sky
the night hemmed in
by streetlights


chrysalis dawn
a butterfly stretches
its world

-- Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy (India/England)




christening day
flavour of wild garlic
on Teapot Lane


tide out
a shell duck family
hoover up the snails

-- Teresa O'Neill (Ireland)




summer's end
a wasp tastes
my bitter


Christmas Eve
your love tied
with a ribbon

-- Ernest Wit (Poland)




at the brink
of desperation
a pink peony


wrapped around
the bowing daffodil
caution tape

-- Don Wentworth (USA)




in the shade
of a Viagra billboard
an old couple


dropping f-bombs
in the summer heat
pink-haired teen

-- Chen-ou Liu (Canada)




the roar of the sea
drowning the voices
of seashells

-- Garry Eaton (Canada)




on mossy rocks
a water dragon
salutes the sun

-- Barbara A. Taylor (Australia)




nectar-bird
from banksia
to bottlebrush

-- Leonie Bingham (Australia)




night fishing
the luminous float
dips underwater

-- Simon Hanson (Australia)




all the old wishes
in the old well
harvest moon

-- Ann Magyar (USA)




mood ring
a lizard eases from
green to brown

-- June Rose Dowis (USA)




harvest moon
the cattail stalk
bows in the middle

-- Tom Sacramona (USA)




rice field―
moonlight through
the hut's roof

-- Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA/Ukraine)




after rain
an overturned wheelbarrow
in a puddle

-- Hugh O'Donnell (Ireland)




sinking sun―
a hum of heat
from the rocks

-- Mary White (Ireland)




bare and tall,
the tree
surrounded by a pit

-- Sharon McCormack (Ireland)




smiling pond...
a dragonfly dips
its tail

-- Adjei Agyei-Baah (Ghana)




daybreak
the river twists
out of fog

-- David He (China)

not open yet,
sunflower turns its blind-eyed face
to the sun

-- Anna Chromova (Israel; translated from the Ukrainian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)




stowed away
inside the white datura calyx,
evening silence

-- Germain Droogenbroodt (Belgium/Spain; translated from the Flemish by the poet)


yearning for heaven,
wings spread...
bird of paradise flowers

-- Germain Droogenbroodt (Belgium/Spain; translated from the Flemish by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)




wind through the grass―
in the clearing
a blizzard of butterflies


butterfly beating
against the computer screen―
let's fly away!


butterfly
has flown close to my eyes―
can't take a good look


white flash
the last butterfly
among flying leaves

-- Vladimir Gertsik (Russia; translated from the Russian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)




dead butterfly off colour
we feast our eyes
on autumn leaves

-- Dmitri Grigoriev (Russia; translated from the Russian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky) 




hark! a grey moth
beating against the pane
turn off the light

-- Adam Hlobus (Belorus; translated from the Belorussian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky




nothing but
sunshine and sand...
where do the shadows come from?

-- Mykola Vorobyov (Ukraine; translated from the Ukrainian by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)




awoken by seagulls
amid dense
Dublin fog

-- Mariko Hara (Japan; translated from the Japanese by Anatoly Kudryavitsky)

Dense Fog haiku, calligraphy by the poet Mariko Hara

Splashing Down the Costa del Sol
            
by Adelaide B. Shaw (USA)

 
We are touring Spain, driving south along the coast.  August is hot; traffic is fast and heavy as many Europeans take their holiday in August. Three cranky and sweaty children in the back seat are consoled with promises of a swim when we stop for the day.
 
     hot pebbly beach
     washing away the grime
     in tepid waves
 
Staying at a parador, a state run hotel, we have the choice of a pool or the sea.
 
     a cannon ball jump
     riding the waves
     to the shallow end
 
A busy tourist town. The only hotel with a vacancy is three blocks from the beach. A small and slightly shabby affair, but the beds and baths are clean.
 
     sun glare
     the many shades of white
     in white sand
 
At a small fishing village, another slightly shabby but clean hotel.
 
     diving through leaves
     yellow and blue tile
     on the bottom
 
Heading north on our way back to Switzerland we camp out. No pool. No sea. Rain and wind all night.
 
     early departure
     three giggly children
     splash into the mist

Once Upon a Time...


by Thomas Chockley (USA)


          ChenRong drunk
          soaks his cap in ink
          smears clouds on paper
          exhales dragons


Tuesday afternoon, 3pm to be exact, and Mrs. Yin, my neighbor to the east, is over for our cup of tea. I have tins of tea, gifts people gave me when I lived in China. Now, she is teaching me which of the teas are of good quality.

This afternoon I don't have time for the niceties of tea. My granddaughter, Lorna, is staying with me for a couple of days. It's almost Lorna's nap time, and she is cranky. However, she is afraid to go to bed in my guest bedroom because there is a terrible monster under the bed. I think maybe it is the thunder and lightning of the rain storm outside. Lorna doesn't agree. I tell Mrs. Yin that I'll be right back and take Lorna by the hand. We go into the bedroom together. We carefully check in the closet. No monster. Under the bed. No monster. We even check behind the bedroom door. No monster there either. Still, Lorna refuses to go to bed because, she explains, monsters are invisible when you look for them. We go back to the kitchen to check on Mrs. Yin and make sure that no monster has gotten her.

Mrs. Yin asks Lorna to sit on her lap and tell her all about the terrible monster. Lorna tells her about its long tail and the big, scary teeth. Mrs. Yin tells Lorna how to tame the monster. "You make friends. Monsters don't eat friends," she tells Lorna. Lorna thinks about this. She slides off of Mrs. Yin's lap and takes my hand.

     above my tea cup
     mist dragons
     curl