Standing Still

Michael Dylan Welch and Ruth Yarrow, editors. Dejah Léger, illustrations.

Press Here, Sammamish, Washington, 2011, 36 pages, 74 poets (one poem each), ISBN 978-1-878798-32-9.

The 2011 Haiku North America conference took place August 3 to 7 at Seattle Center, in Seattle, Washington. In this book’s introduction, I wrote that “The 2011 conference theme of ‘Fifty Years of Haiku’ reminds us that it has been five solid decades that English-language haiku has flourished in North America, with the first haiku journal having started in 1963.This theme also connects us to the location of the 2011 conference at Seattle Center, at the foot of Space Needle, which opened for the World’s Fair in 1962.With fifty years of creativity and increasing numbers of poets and poems to celebrate, the Haiku North America conference demonstrates that haiku poets do not stand still in their development and appreciation for this rewarding genre of poetry.” You can also read the entire introduction. See the Press Here page for this book. Here are thirty-five sample poems from the anthology, with selected illustrations by Dejah Léger. Read Melissa Allen’s report of the 2011 Haiku North America conference.

ebb tide . . .

the blue heron

wrapped in stillness

Angela Terry

Lake Forest Park, Washington

shipped oars

we drift with the jellyfish

through her ashes

Billie Dee

San Diego, California

barefoot summer . . .

a drop of honeysuckle

on my tongue

Cara Holman

Portland, Oregon

grass shoots

deer’s breath

just above them

Ce Rosenow

Eugene, Oregon

scribbling pens

to find one that works

winter trees

Cherie Hunter Day

Cupertino, California

the electric fan

turns from the boxscores to

the fashion page and back

Cor van den Heuvel

New York, New York

quiet woods—

he turns to kiss me

through a snowflake

Dejah Léger

Shoreline, Washington

sweet grass and cedar: woven

when the settlers came

her gather basket

Dianne Garcia

Seattle, Washington

spring waterfall . . .

the morning sun splashes

from my hands

Don Baird

Palmdale, California

Brisk west wind,

yet the meadow grass sways

both ways

Don Wentworth

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania


ryūboku no karosa shirosa ya minami fuku

the lightness

of the driftwood—

evening southerly

Emiko Miyashita

Kawasaki, Japan

deep ruts

under the children’s swing:

end of summer

Ernesto V. Epistola

Sarasota, Florida

Spring galaxy—

the windup robot

takes one more step

Garry Gay

Windsor, California

Grandma’s face

in the window above the sink

distant stars

Gene Myers

Rockaway, New Jersey


the stars overhead

the stars below

Jay Friedenberg

New York, New York


the crows outlast

the gardener

Jay Gelzer

Seattle, Washington

first fireworks

she turns her face

to mine

Joshua Beach

Sammamish, Washington

scattered dominos

new constellations

to disagree about

Katharine Grubb Hawkinson

Seattle, Washington

rope swing

across the river,

across the years

Kathleen Tice

Kent, Washington

full moon

the fox re-sorts

the recycling


Whitehorse, Yukon

a light snowfall—

grandpa waves his hand

on the platform

Makoto Nakanishi

Matsuyama, Japan

city passersby

stare at haiku poets

standing still

Marilyn Hazelton

Allentown, Pennsylvania

midsummer’s day

this heavy

sweet-bee heat

Marjorie Buettner

Chisago City, Minnesota

a show of hands

in the jury room . . .

winter light

Michael Dylan Welch

Sammamish, Washington


gan kensa nan nashi kiro ni kau nikki

trouble-free cancer exam

on the way home

I acquire a diary

Minako Noma

Matsuyama, Japan

drinking radiation no risk of on the news in Japan drinking rain

Richard Gilbert

Kumamoto, Japan

no trespassing . . .

prickly pear blooming on both sides

of barbed wire

Richard Tice

Kent, Washington

sketching wild orchids—

slowly I sense

their sweet smell

Ruth Yarrow

Seattle, Washington

Mother’s Day—

flowers without thorns

in the psych ward

Susan Antolin

Walnut Creek, California

I tell him

he does too much—

overflowing flower basket

Tanya McDonald

Woodinville, Washington

wood grain of the door

suddenly a forest grove

inside my room

Terran Campbell

Seattle, Washington

a Chopin étude

on late-night radio

pale lilies in a vase

Terry Ann Carter

Ottawa, Ontario

floating mist

the odd sound of

my new address

Tracy Koretsky

Bellevue, Washington

deepening sunset

on the sideboard

last year’s canned peaches

Wanda D. Cook

Hadley, Massachusetts

numbers on his arm . . .

a grandchild asks

how he got them

William Scott Galasso

Edmonds, Washington