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The Heron's Nesta haikai journal ...
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Volume IV, Valentine Awards:
February 2002.
Overview Readers' Choice Most Popular Poet Editors' Choice |
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READERS CHOICE - FAVORITE POEMS
John Crook
winter sunrise
Winter sunrise could be a metaphor for John Crooks journey into haiku and his growth as a poet. He may have found his haiku voice a bit timidly at first, but inspired by his reverence for nature and insight into the human condition, John dedicated himself to the form, and in a very short while became one of our most beloved poets. Winter sunrise won The Herons Nest Award; Vol. III:3, March 2001. Christopher Herold, in a beautiful and moving commentary, points out the adverb slowly that is the entire second line, actually a pivot, wherein lies the heart of the poem. I cannot do better than Christophers insightful study of this poem, which he concludes, He feels the birds winter as his own. Reading many of Johns published haiku again and again, I realize that winter sunrise is exemplary of the authors remarkably clear vision and the pithiness of his work. I am grateful that, although John passed away last spring, his voice will never be silent.
John W. Wisdom
the slow turn
See Editors' Grand Prize Commentary
Yu Chang
back at camp
A day spent in the pleasurable pastime of mountain climbing. The author remembers the day and, indeed, the effort of the climb. A hiker, especially a climber, may have stiffness in many muscles not ordinarily used. That night, Yus legs reminded him of his exertion. The next morning too! This haiku is a clear outline of experience. The key word, for me, is peak. The poem would survive without itan essence of climbing would remain. Peak, however, serves the dual role of showing he made it to the top and gives us the sharpness felt in his muscles. In this haiku I find myself reminiscing: the pleasure of climbing, wild forests, cliffs and rocky outcrops, panoramic views, and the fellowship of climbing partners. Much of this may occur to any reader but I must confess that I was there with Yu during and after this climb. Sharing the day but not the summit, already feeling stiffness in my own back and legs, I stopped partway while Yu went up the last thousand feet. I share the high opinion of this haiku shown by our readers.
Paul David Mena
snow mixes with rain
Although the topic is difficult at best, this haiku by Paul David Mena is one of the most powerful Ive read. It was the winner of The Herons Nest Award in April. The commentary in that issue, by Paul MacNeil, is also excellent. Its well-worth rereading as you linger in the poignancy of this experience. Anyone who has a loved one with Alzheimers disease, or some other form of senility, is painfully aware of the difficulties involved in being around, or caring for such an individual. In her last few years, my late mother was in a similar state and so I can empathize profoundly. It is not just the debilitated person who suffers, but those who are close to him or her. Great reserves of patience and compassion must necessarily be tapped. The poets mother has become senile and the disease causes her to confuse even the names of her own children. One can easily imagine the pain he feels from this experience. Afterwards, as he walks outside, he actually finds solace in the harsh weather. It appears to him to be in a state of confusion also, somewhere between snow and rain but not quite either, just as the poets mother is balanced between two worlds, neither here nor there. When both the emotional weather and the weather outside are in turmoil, the whole world can seem blurred and surreal. It is my sense that the writing of this haiku was cathartic. I admire Paul David Mena for summoning the courage to find words for his experience, and am grateful to him for sharing them with us. |
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