2017
HAIKU (Judge: Paul MacNeil)
First Place ($100)
between sun and shadow
the grass and the hopper
become one
Michelle Schaefer
A scene straight from nature, this haiku becomes more complex as it sinks in. The writer skillfully invites synthesis. The plant and insect are different, but the grasshopper has evolved a camouflage keeping many of its kind safe from predators as it feeds. Two things are compared and contrasted in each of the first and second lines. We observers have to look more closely to identify the the shape and color of the bug. Subtly as we move back, the sun and shadow, light and dark, also become one thing: a meadow, field, or lawn with dappled light. All of this haiku yields the unity of things.
Paul MacNeil, judge
Second Place ($50)
stepping in
the brook has a sound
for my feet
Gary Hotham
Third Place ($25)
summer evening
a breeze finds your kiss
on my neck
Brad Bennett
Honorable Mentions (unranked)
blood moon
her rage spattered
on a white canvas
Carol Judkins
night jasmine
two prostitutes share
a laugh
Frank Hooven
crocuses in October
they say it’s
a routine procedure
Scott Mason
dusk descending geese
Alan S. Bridges
desert rain . . .
the stream settles
into its bed
Julie Warther
SENRYU (Judge: Paul David Mena)
First Place ($100)
the surgeon
almost ready
to pray
John Stevenson
This senryu unfolds masterfully, revealing a profound shift in only six words. Even the most skilled surgeon would be remiss not to prepare, and yet very often our own limitations as humans render our study and experience meaningless, and at the mercy of forces beyond our own control. This surgeon has come to that crossroad, and we as readers are right there as well.
Paul David Mena, judge
Second Place ($50)
no longer the athlete I never was
John Stevenson
Third Place ($25)
late for the Zen lecture
most of the time
I am missing nothing
John Stevenson
Honorable Mentions
the whole bath long
worrying if I can
get out
Carolyn Hall
morning commute
bumper to bumper
for lattes
Rob Grotke
on line all night
researching causes/treatments
of insomnia
Michael Dudley
TANKA (Judge: David Rice)
After reading the entries for the HPNC's annual tanka contest for the purpose of choosing winners, and initially sorting them into two groups—ones I would not pick and ones I might pick—I tried to define what made some poems touch me. While what makes a tanka soar is ultimately undefinable, and while an individual reader's aesthetic is a factor, there are certain technical skills in tanka writing that the poets whose poems I liked used much better than the poets in the other group. Word choice and metaphor: as has been said before, fresh images are much more likely to reach the reader and metaphors expand the power of words and add overtones to the poem. Structure: when a tanka has a shift, it makes it more likely the reader will be drawn into the poem. Topic: a poem about cooking beans, like the one I just wrote, may be well-crafted, but poems about emotionally-charged situations, are more likely to reach the reader.
First Place ($100)
this child, autistic
kicks a hole
cratering the door
I pull another
splinter from my dream
Lesley Anne Swanson
The poet who wrote “this child, autistic” uses unusual imagery (“kicks a hold/cratering the door”) and then extends the metaphor in the shift in the last two lines (“splinter from my dream”) that broadens the micro-action of the first three lines to the macro-level of her whole life. “Dream” is a common word in the tanka I read that do not move me, because “dream” is a word used so frequently it has lost much of its ability to reach the reader in a particular way. In this poem, though, “dream” has a specific meaning that fits perfectly with the rest of the poem. Word choice, structure, topic, and the ineffable “splinter from my dream.” I bow in silence.
Second Place
ocean sunset . . .
the wind machineguns the sand
against my face,
and it all comes flooding back—
the screams, the smells
James Chessing
“machineguns” in the second line of “ocean sunset . . .”, as a verb, grabbed me. The shift in the last two lines knocked me down. The poet's re-experienced trauma kept me down. I've seen ocean sunsets and had wind smack my face. If a prize-winning tanka needs to pull the reader into the emotional-physical place where the poem was born, this tanka succeeds. The next time I am at the beach, I will think of this poem and hope the poet is able to deal with the post-traumatic stress.
Third Place
wind-bent willow
netting the moon on the pond
show me how to free
the me who surrendered
to the woman I've become
Linda Jeannette Ward
“wind-bent willow” has images frequently used in tanka (“willow,” “moon”). The strength of the poem is in the shift and meaning of the last two lines. The willow, after “netting the moon in the pond,” doesn't really set it “free.” It is the moon that moves and, by doing so, frees itself from the willow's net. Likewise, only “the me who surrendered” can free herself from “the woman I've become.” There is a lot of dreaming room in this tanka, because the poet used familiar tanka images in unexpected ways.
Honorable Mention
another Sunday,
a fresh bouquet
for your grave . . .
my helpless waiting
for gravity to let go
James Chessing
Often, people bring flowers to a grave so they can be with the person who died. The last two lines take the wish to be with the deceased literally and this surprise shift made me feel the “helpless waiting.” Gravity, an unusual word in a tanka as a scientific term, is a force that pulls objects towards each other. Here, metaphorically, the poet is asking the earth “to let go” so the poet can join the deceased, and the fresh imagery also let me feel the “helpless waiting.”
hoping the wind dies down
so the fires don't spread
wish granted
toxic smoke
sits in the valley
M. Franklyn Teaford
We want our wishes to come true but, sometimes, we what we wish for isn't enough. This tanka let me feel how helpless we can be even after a fire, because we then have to respond to what the fire did—and there are many kinds of fires.
Rengay (Judge: Billie Wilson)
First Place
Even Starlight Crackles
Gary Evans, Stanwood, WA
Seren Fargo, Bellingham, WA
frozen night
even the starlight
crackles Gary
ice storm
cedars pierce the moon Seren
too cold to snow
the sound
of popping trees Gary
arctic wind
birds huddled
on the lowest branch Seren
moonlit cobwebs
outlined with hoar frost Gary
frigid evening
the last of the snowberries
preserved in ice Seren
“Stunning!” I said that aloud after my first reading, and that word continues to echo at each new reading. Everything works together to create a winter as amazing as that in the film Dr. Zhivago. Each verse could easily be published on its own and links beautifully with the others. Superb word choices throughout beg to be read aloud so that the perfectly chosen sounds and resulting musicality can be savored. An A+ and 10 gold stars. Did I mention I love it?
Second Place
Hidden Ice
Marilyn Ashbaugh, Edwardsburg, MI
Jeanne Cook, South Bend, IN
the silent howl
of a broken dream
wolf moon Marilyn
the hidden ice
of becalmed wind chimes Jeanne
incense altar
I listen to
plum blossoms Marilyn
holding hands/
the tune stuck
in her head Jeanne
snowdrops under a drift
sound of spring Marilyn
unwound clock
the flowered print
of her worn-out dress Jeanne
This edgy rengay skids me like black ice right out of my comfort zone and then welcomes me into a refreshing new dimension. This response is similar to the first time I was captured by Tomita’s album Snowflakes are Dancing in the 1970s. And that music would be a perfect accompaniment to these verses.
Third Place
Wisconsin
Biillie Dee, Las Cruces, NM
Deborah P Kolodji, Temple City, CA
billowing clouds
a flock of sheep blocks the road
to the graveyard Billie
mushrooms growing
next to her name Deborah
Memorial Day
her purse the smell of lilac
and Lucky Strikes Billie
folded flag
the bugle
a bit sharp Deborah
hankie pinned to my blouse
with a golden claddagh Billie
yesterday’s roses
a handful of dirt
from Wisconsin Deborah
The beautiful and intricate blending of a present-day visit to a loved one’s grave with vividly-described memories brings a nostalgic sense of longing. It opens itself to each reader’s memories. I had to look up “claddagh” (but am sure not every reader would). That it is a piece of traditional Irish jewelry representing love, loyalty, and friendship adds another rich layer.
1st HM
Two Rivers (A Honkadori Rengay*)
Julie Warther, Dover, OH
Dan Schewerin, Waukesha, WI
from the coat
of one cat…
a hundred fleas Julie
washing the robe
then the priest Dan
I lead
you follow
two rivers Julie
both sandals
having the summer
that is in them Dan
all that remains
of our walks on the beach Julie
a new tide
the coolness
of coming clean Dan
*In Japanese poetry, honkadori is an allusion within a poem to an older poem which would be generally recognized by its potential readers. These links retain echoes of Chiyo-ni, Issa, Shiki, Buson, Basho and Santoka
What fun to be introduced to honkadori this way. Kudos to the poets who so carefully crafted this approach and, in the process, created a rengay that really works. With the bonus of a hidden game, it is to be hoped that, with the clues in the footnote, readers will be prompted to dig through the classics to find the inspiration for each verse.
2nd HM
Weightless
Julie Warther, Dover, OH
Angela Terry, Lake Forest Park, WA
Valentine snow
the paper thin curls
of birch bark Julie
weightless in the moment
wild plum Angela
a tiny curve
fits itself to the nest
of thistle down Julie
moss growing
in the morning mist
the silence Angela
whisper of a snake
slipping out of its skin Julie
promising
springtime…
a lover’s kiss Angela
3rd HM
Soak
Tanya McDonald, Woodinville, WA
Michelle Schaefer, Bothell, WA
Mimi Gorman, Indianola, WA
rainy, rainy day
an unopened box
of watercolors Tanya
pond koi surface
in my thoughts Michelle
cream swirling
into my coffee
the lines blur Mimi
a drop of wine
tints the bubble bath Tanya
scented candle
wax pools
around the wick Michelle
waterfall sounds
stream from the radio Mimi