{"id":5607,"date":"2019-01-28T15:23:50","date_gmt":"2019-01-28T15:23:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/?page_id=5607"},"modified":"2019-07-04T02:28:42","modified_gmt":"2019-07-04T02:28:42","slug":"haiku-corner-6","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/?page_id=5607","title":{"rendered":"HAIKU CORNER 6"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The Happy Carp by Nana Shiomi<\/p>\n

Everglades Haiku<\/strong><\/div>\n

 
\nEvery morning, sky plays wind music,
\nwind plays tree music,
\ntree plays bird music.
\n 
\nOutside the studio,
\ntwo birds skirmish over the smallest palm;
\nthe other palms sit empty.
\n 
\nAnhinga chortles, grasshopper chomps, gator bellows\u2014
\nonce you start to listen,
\neveryone has something to say.
\n 
\nIn the chain link fence at the taco stand,
\na plastic bag mimics the anhinga,
\ndries its wings in the afternoon wind.
\n 
\nA vulture\u2019s carcass has lost the war
\nwith a mower\u2019s blade. Don\u2019t feel bad\u2014
\nhe was already dead, eye plucked from ruby head.
\n 
\nA red-shouldered hawk alights in my yard.
\nOnly a few days left\u2014not enough time
\nto learn the name of every bird.
\n 
\nFalling darkness reminds
\nchuck-will\u2019s-widow
\nto join the insect song.
\n 
\nA mud dauber has trapped herself
\nin my screened porch. Neither of us
\nis happy about the situation.
\n 
\nI crush a beetle in half with my knife.
\nWhat\u2019s one more death
\ninside this killing machine?
\n 
\n 
\nAnne Jennings Paris is a writer, a visual artist, and a mother. She has lived in the Portland, Oregon area for the past 15 years, and she is native of Gainesville, Florida. Her recent work looks at the human and non-human ecology of threatened landscapes and watersheds.
\n 
\n <\/p>\n

\n

I<\/p>\n

The curly raindrop punches<\/p>\n

Walls, sidewalks, benches.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s no home in \u201cI\u201d.
\n 
\n 
\nYin<\/p>\n

Nothing gets cleaned from<\/p>\n

itself \u2013 the thirsty mud drinks<\/p>\n

the petals of rain.
\n 
\n 
\nOcto
\n 
\n 
\nWind growls through the leaves;
\n 
\n 
\nTangerine hands dancing<\/p>\n

In the crying mist.
\n 
\n 
\nDestiny
\n 
\n 
\nLetter H is carved<\/p>\n

in my shoulders, whipping me<\/p>\n

with icy sun beans.
\n 
\n 
\nVertigo
\n 
\n 
\nWalls are shaking my hand-<\/p>\n

There’s no voice to haunt them,<\/p>\n

Put out the candle.
\n 
\n 
\nRoxana Popuescu is a Romanian writer, who has recently started to express herself in English as well.
\n 
\n <\/p>\n

\n

 
\n 
\nMarjory Stoneman Douglas High School
\n 
\n 
\nKids cower under desks.
\nShots staccato down the hall.
\nHide. Don\u2019t seek me, please.
\n 
\n 
\nHeather MacDonald had five pieces of flash fiction published previously. Her flash fiction story ‘Stephanie’s Soiree’ was runner up in The Offbeat Literary Journal’s<\/em> fall 2016 contest. Another titled ‘Grief’ was runner up in the Lovely Pennies<\/em> 16 Word Story competition through Haunted Waters Press. Most recently, her flash fiction “Shattered” was published by Reflex Fiction<\/em> online.
\n 
\n <\/p>\n

\n

 
\n 
\nMelampodium
\ndeeper yellow than paint on
\nour rickety shed
\n 
\n 
\nOh, poison ivy,
\nnot again! Leaves of three, bah!
\nLike grief, it sneaks in.
\n 
\n 
\nChicory, a weed
\nI yank out, toss. Shallow roots,
\na map of summer.
\n 
\n 
\nLightning aims for a
\ntree, our tall pines call. Sidetracked
\nby a lightning rod.
\n 
\n 
\nBelle of Barmera
\ndahlia, some people can wear
\npink. You\u2019re one of them.
\n 
\n 
\nA poppy as tall
\nas me–how embarrassing
\nthat my head won\u2019t bloom!
\n 
\n 
\nSomeone told me if
\nI read poetry I\u2019ll die.
\nI did. Happily.
\n 
\n 
\na lily up close
\nto the road, sound of engines,
\nskids, and slammed windows
\n 
\n 
\nKenneth Pobo’s chapbook of haiku and tanka was published by Yavanika Press. Also forthcoming from Clare Songbirds Publishing House is his book called The Antlantis Hit Parade.<\/em>
\n 
\n <\/p>\n

\n

 
\n <\/p>\n

Heat, thick as yogurt.<\/div>\n
Dog and I walk hot concrete,<\/div>\n
pant in four-four time.<\/div>\n
Dawn diamonds the lake.<\/div>\n
Dog and I jog paw-soft paths,<\/div>\n
legs in two-four time.<\/div>\n
Seagulls squat on piers<\/div>\n
near gray wrinkle-skinned water.<\/div>\n
Gondolas eat tourists.<\/div>\n

 
\n 
\nDennis Maulsby is a retired bank president living in Ames, Iowa. His poems and short stories have appeared in The North American Review, Passager, The Hawai\u2019i Pacific Re-view, The Briarcliff Review,<\/em> and on National Public Radio\u2019s Themes & Variations. His Vietnam War poetry book, Remembering Willie<\/em>, won silver medal book awards from two national veterans\u2019 organizations. His second book of poetry, Frissons,<\/em> a collection of haiku and senryu was published in 2012. Some of the poems in this book have been set to classical music and may be heard at his website: www.dennismaulsby.com<\/a>.  Prolific Press released a third book of poetry, Near Death\/Near Life<\/em>, in 2015. The book has since received a gold medal award from the Military Writers Society of America, was named a winner-finalist in the USA Book News contest, and nominated for the da Vinci Eye Award for cover art.  His latest book of linked short stories, Free Fire Zone,<\/em> was released by Prolific Press in November 2016. It has been named a finalist in the International Book Awards contest in the Science Fiction category. The book has been reviewed by the Military writers Society of America and is being considered for an award by that organization. Maulsby is a past president (2012 \u2013 2014) of the Iowa Poetry Association<\/p>\n

 
\n <\/p>\n

\n

 
\n 
\nthe last summer
\nmorning, a butterfly\u2019s
\nbroken wing
\n 
\n 
\na toast to
\nNew Year\u2019s resolutions:
\nthe full wolf  
\n 
\na house finch
\npecks at the empty feeder
\nwinter harvest
\n 
\n 
\non the darkest day
\nwe laid her to rest–
\nwinter solstice
\n 
\n 
\nChristine Taylor, an English teacher and librarian at a local independent school, resides in her hometown Plainfield, New Jersey. Her work appears and is forthcoming in Modern Haiku, Presence, and Shamrock Haiku Journal. She can be found at www.christinetayloronline.com<\/p>\n

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The Happy Carp by Nana Shiomi Everglades Haiku   Every morning, sky plays wind music, wind plays tree music, tree plays bird music.   Outside the studio, two birds skirmish over the smallest palm; the other palms sit empty.   Anhinga chortles, grasshopper chomps, gator bellows\u2014 once you start to listen, everyone has something to [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5607","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5607","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5607"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5607\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6101,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5607\/revisions\/6101"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5607"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}