2006 Anita Sadler Weiss Haiku Contest Michael
Dylan Welch, Judge
First published (I believe) in The
Dragonfly, the newsletter of the Haiku
Poets of Central Maryland, in 2006, or at least circulated to all contest entrants in a results flyer. Originally written in January 2006. I believe that first prize for this contest was $500.
First Place father & son—
just there
the Pleiades
—Tim
Singleton
The immediacy and simplicity of this poem belies its reverberations. The words
“just there,” though relatively abstract, imply a raised index finger as the
father points out the Pleiades to his son. Or perhaps it’s the other way
around—we don’t know. This cluster of stars lies in the constellation Taurus,
the stubborn bull. In Greek mythology, the Pleiades were the seven daughters of
Atlas, placed in the sky by Zeus to keep them from the unwanted affections of
Orion. Six of the stars are visible, the seventh considered “lost” (though
telescopes reveal many more). Because of its prominence at certain times of the
year, the star cluster is associated with the growing season, and perhaps the
son is just now entering into his own growing season, whether physical, mental,
or spiritual. In Japanese, the Pleiades are called Subaru (the logo for this Japanese car company depicts the star
cluster), and functions as a summer season word. If the reader knows this
background, it may reverberate with the relationship between father and son. If
not, the appreciation for nature that is transmitted from one generation to
another is still amply present. One can see the father or the son leaning in to
see where the finger is pointing (just there),
and so, too, their relationship is brought closer together in observing and
appreciating the natural world around them.
Second Place night call—
a clock ticking
at the other end
—John
Ower
Any call placed at night—this is surely very late at night, long before
dawn—must be serious and important. The weight of what may have been said, or
not said, causes silence at the other end. All that the caller hears is the
ticking clock. Not only is it late at night, but the clock itself makes the
caller more acutely aware of the time—and aware of time itself. This focus on
the time of day may be analogous to a time of year. Though the poem lacks a
seasonal reference, the lateness of the hour may bring to mind lateness in the
year, say autumn or winter. Night, too, has a peculiar silence such that
certain sounds, normally unheard, become more prominent, only this time the
sound punctuates the stillness across a phone call. Perhaps, too, the call
crosses many time zones, and the clock’s ticks indicate a very different time
of day. And surely whatever was said, or is about to be said, will make a
significant change in the life of the person hearing the news. Ultimately, of
course, we do not know who called whom, or why the call lapses into enough
silence so that one person or the other hears the ticking clock. Yet we are
left with a vivid moment, deftly drawn, that is pregnant with anticipation,
whether positive or negative.
Third Place autumn sunset . . .
she lowers the silk
into the dye
—Francine
Banwarth
This traditional haiku offers the name of a season paired with the implied
beauty of a sunset. The unexplained “she” (an artist, a hippie, a factory
worker?) is dying silk, and we see the beauty of the sunset echoed in the
beauty of the colors in the dyed silk. The time of day and the fact that the
sunset can be seen from wherever the person is working suggests that this is
not a factory worker, but more likely an artist. This is not mere cotton for a
tie-dyed T-shirt, but silk for some more elaborate article of clothing or
artistic endeavor. There is commitment in the lowering of the silk into the
dye. The silk is expensive, and the dying cannot be undone. As it passes into
sunset, each day also cannot be undone, and perhaps a life lived with
commitment will bring about brighter colors than a life lived otherwise.
Honorable Mentions (in order) Van Gogh gallery—
the bus group moves
from painting to painting
—Tim
Singleton
This poem is not an allusion, but a direct naming. The famous painter’s name
brings to mind his paintings, and in this way the poem becomes personal as each
reader thinks of a particular favorite painting by the artist (I think of
sunflowers). The tour group that has come to see the special exhibit is ushered
along, or simply moves as a group, as it perfunctorily views the artist’s work.
We are left to wonder how deep the appreciation may be, and perhaps we can
identify with the moment and when we ourselves have moved—sometimes too
quickly—from painting to painting in a gallery. Or perhaps the appreciation is
frustrated just in certain individuals by their having to move along as a
group. Despite our desire to appreciate beauty, we too must sometimes make
compromises. This poem captures one particular color of human existence, a
simple stroke that is as authentically vivid as any Van Gogh tincture.
weeding
the roots come up
clutching stones
—Angeline
Johnston
We all cling to something. Our bad habits cling to the stones in our hearts,
reluctant to be removed. Perhaps this poem has this meaning, for we all have
desires that we cling to. At its face value, of course, this poem is not about
that, but the simple act of weeding a garden. An unwanted plant, perhaps a
large dandelion, is yanked from the earth, and we find that its roots have
pulled up some stones. Perhaps, then, the act of removing the weeds serves a
helpful double purpose as the weeds pull out unwanted stones. Or perhaps the
stones are useful for drainage in the garden and the weeds are doubly unhelpful in pulling them up. Either
way, our gardens—both literally and figuratively—need our constant attention.
New Year’s Day
our angel returns
to the attic
—Scott
Mason
The angel, of course, is one that topped a Christmas tree. With the holiday
season over, the decorations are returned to storage. But perhaps there is more
to it than just that. This is New Year’s Day, a new beginning. As the year
begins, an angel that is thought to protect the family is again above them in
the house, portending good fortune for the time ahead. This is the sort of
interpretation that one may read into the poem, whether intended or not. Even
if not intended, it’s the sort of reverberation that can be allowed to flourish
by the poet’s trusting the objective images that show what we experience every
day.
decades later
still shifting his weight
to influence the shot
—Michael
Fessler
Every golfer has done this. Here we not only see the shifted weight (and
perhaps a distorted facial expression as the golf ball curves closer to the
cup), but the choice of “decades later” tells us something deeper. This word
choice not only shows us continuity, that the person is the same now as he was
many years ago, but also shows a relationship. This shifting of the weight may
be characteristic of any golfer wishing to influence an uncertain shot, yet
surely this is a specific golfer, and the poet has had the privilege of a
relationship with him over the years—whether as a friend, as a spouse, or in
some other family relationship. That a bodily gesture was noticed then and
noticed now shows some degree of admiration or affection in the observer, and
though we do not know much about the relationship, we see the humor in the
golfer’s illogical bodily gesture as well as the seriousness of the observer’s
relationship—as well as the golfer’s passion.
golden wedding
she’s forgotten
his name
—Ernest
J. Berry
The melancholy of this anniversary is that age has robbed the wife of her
memory—of even the name of the most important person in her life. Despite
reaching a rare milestone, the couple’s quality of life has unfortunately
deteriorated—or at least hers has. The rich accumulation of memories of a life
shared for so long is eroded by Alzheimer’s. Surely, though, love still
remains, and the anniversary can still be celebrated happily, even while
younger family members remain aware of the passing of time and the ravages of
age.
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