2022 Haiku Society of America Garry Gay Rengay Award

Our congratulations to everyone who participated in the 2022 Haiku Society of America rengay contest, because writing itself is its own reward. We received 43 entries and admired each rengay’s exploration of various themes—having a theme is, after all, rengay’s cornerstone. We looked for themes that were clear to readers (not just targets for writers, which can sometimes remain unclear to readers), fine individual haiku, a pleasing development of verses, and strong titles. All but one of our selections happened to be two-person rengay, but we encourage more three-person rengay as well. We hope you enjoy reading these selections and our commentary and feel inspired to write many rengay (or more rengay) in the months ahead.

—Kristen Lindquist and Michael Dylan Welch, judges

First Place

An Extra Leaf

by Bryan Rickert and Terri L. French

realizing

there’ll be no grandkids

winter deepens Bryan

another autumn

too old for a puppy Terri

always leftovers

we fatten up

the strays Bryan

an extra leaf

in the closet

family dinner Terri

spare rooms

just spare rooms Bryan

samara seeds

a blue ribbon tied

to the neighbor’s mailbox Terri

This winning rengay captures in a quiet, understated way an older person or couple’s thwarted desire for a grandchild, for a new generation to carry on the family line as one ages. There’s much more going on here then is apparent at first glance. This sense of endings is linked imagistically to year’s end in the first two verses, as well as to the “extra leaf” of the title and the fourth verse, which evokes both autumn foliage and the family tree. An interesting thread about unneeded excess also runs through these verses: there’s always extra food for strays, the table leaf isn’t needed even for “family dinner,” and spare rooms remain uninhabited. It’s as if every aspect of the domestic scene is a reminder of the absent child(ren). And there’s clearly much that could be shared, making the lack that much more difficult to reconcile. The culminating verse, with its “blue ribbon,” which we took to indicate the birth of a son into the neighbor’s family, a “win” for them, rounds out the emotional journey with a complex sense of wistful envy tinged with loneliness. —Kristen Lindquist

This domestic rengay begins with the premise of lacking grandchildren—and presumably desiring them. We go from a deepening winter ahead nearly a full year to “another autumn” where the people in the poem realize that even a puppy isn’t possible. The rengay shifts to feeding stray animals, a sort of surrogate not just for puppies but for grandchildren. From there the loss of potential family members manifests itself in the dining room table’s unused extra leaf and the spare room left unvisited. The final verse becomes a sort of consolation and yet not. The blue ribbon suggests winning a prize, but it’s the neighbor’s prize. And the blue color is also a gender-reveal for a baby boy. Samara seeds suggest new life, and they have sprouted for the neighbor but not for the poets writing this rengay. The neighbor’s public announcement contrasts with the poets’ private loss. We are left to wonder if they are happy for their neighbors or perhaps envious. —Michael Dylan Welch

Second Place

Weavings

by Billie Dee and Neena Singh

rose-laced dawn

a young girl sweeping petals

from the courtyard Billie

old narrow bed

      our parents sleep entwined Neena

Ganga ghat

the barefoot cobbler

with crossed legs Billie

a rickshaw puller

    wipes his sweat

    city din Neena

festival tuk-tuk

my driver’s betel-stained teeth Billie

Vedic chants

    weaving prayers in one thread

    a garland of marigolds Neena

A rich cultural context weaves itself into this rengay, adding an exotic flavor for North American readers. The first two verses might at first seem to be possible anywhere, focusing on entwinings. But from the third verse on, readers know we are in India, which makes us reconsider the location of the first two verses. We experience temples, transportation devices, and religious chants, each one further developing the theme of things woven together. The dawn is laced with color, parents wrap themselves together in bed, legs are crossed, the city’s din envelops a sweating worker, teeth are stained, and prayers weave themselves into a garland of flowers. This rengay weaves us into its world. —Michael Dylan Welch

Third Place

In the Expanse

by Kristen Lang and Lorraine Haig

faint echoes

from the stones

a raven’s call Kristen

guinea fowl pick over

the empty waterhole Lorraine

scratched onto blue

the black

of an eagle’s wings Kristen

emus . . .

spinifex

to the horizon Lorraine

crested bellbird—courting notes

buried in the dunes Kristen

a puddle

filled with sky

pink cockatoos Lorraine

The birds throughout this piece provided one lovely thread of thematic consistency, with their activities creating movement from land to air and back again through each verse. We also enjoyed how the title helped evoke another layer: the sense throughout of a spare landscape serving as backdrop to the energetic birds, from the echoing stones of the first verse to an empty waterhole to, ultimately, a reflection that captures in one image both the water and sky of previous verses. There’s also a fun progression here from black or dark birds to the ebullience of pink cockatoos in the final verse. —Kristen Lindquist

Honorable Mentions (in order)

Angst

by Yvette Nicole Kolodji and Deborah P Kolodji

sneaking back in

past curfew

a prick of the rose bush Yvette

snapped twig

the motion sensor light Deborah

my mother

sits on my bed

not another talk Yvette

waning moon

my daughter’s

monosyllable answers Deborah

two weeks grounded

my light turns off Yvette

bathroom trash can

I worry about

her period Deborah

This unique rengay expresses anxiety from two different points of view. The first three verses seem to present the daughter’s viewpoint, sneaking in late after curfew, triggering a motion-sensor light, and finding her mother waiting for her on her bed. The last three verses seem to show the mother’s point of view, starting with noticing the daughter’s reluctant monosyllables. In the fifth verse, the mother has grounded her daughter and can now turn off own her light with reduced stress, knowing her daughter is home. And in the final verse, the mother frets about the daughter’s growing up, perhaps even worrying that she might be pregnant. We don’t know why the daughter missed curfew, but we do know the mother punished the daughter, and yet the mother remains concerned and empathetic. —Michael Dylan Welch

Postscript: On learning who the winners are for this rengay, I now see that it’s possible for all of Yvette’s verses to come from her point of view, and all of Deborah’s to come from hers. I first took the two-liners as being first from the daughter’s and then the mother’s point of view, respectively, and they are both sufficiently ambiguous in this regard, and I now prefer taking each verse as being from the point of view of each writer (daughter and mother in real life).

Drifting Out of the Frame

by Michele Root-Bernstein, Laszlo Slomovits, and Jennifer Burd

turning to dust

what’s pinned in

the shadowbox Michele

her love letters

in faded ink Laszlo

becoming more

mother’s face

or less mine Jennifer

wings worn down

to gossamer Michele

lavender sachet

her memories no longer come

when called Laszlo

dandelion seeds drifting

out of the frame Jennifer

From the title on down, this delicate rengay is tonally consistent with its focus on ephemerality and the passing of time: dust, faded ink, an aging face, worn feathers, and, more profoundly, the loss of memory, which links beautifully to the final image of dandelion seeds floating away—the perfect imagistic shift away from the poem itself. —Kristen Lindquist

Off You Go!

by Alan S. Bridges and Jacquie Pearce

corn stubble

the camouflage

of a killdeer’s egg Alan

dots under a dock leaf

left by a butterfly Jacquie

on a pond

the sound of nothing . . .

frogspawn Alan

sunlight

filling the blossoms

with bees Jacquie

milkweed fluff

off you go! Alan

the last crack

opens the world

hummingbird Jacquie

This rengay celebrates small things, starting and ending with eggs. We also see butterfly eggs in the second verse, frog eggs in the third verse, and bees and milkweed seeds in the fourth and fifth verses. Then we end with another bird egg in the last verse, this time one as small as a hummingbird’s yet still opening to something as grand as the entire world when that delicate hummingbird egg cracks open. The potential of beginnings brings all these verses together, with the bees transferring pollen and the milkweed seeds suggesting new life, in addition to the eggs in all the other verses. Even the title inspires and energizes us: off you go! —Michael Dylan Welch

Desert Highway

by Billie Dee and Naia

the feather trapped

in a Chevy grill

dust devil horizon Billie

riding an updraft

       turkey vultures Naia

rock doves

preen in the heat

ATV exhaust Billie

windswept dunes

       distant echoes

       from campfires Naia

old coyote

scavenging scraps Billie

star-filled night

       a kangaroo rat

       noses the tent flap Naia

Just as a highway introduces a human-made element to the spare desert landscape, almost every verse in this rengay depicts wild desert creatures interacting or juxtaposed with human artifacts, culminating in a perfect, whimsical way with a kangaroo rat about to enter a tent. The desert becomes a shared landscape. Several verses link in interesting ways, too, through images of rising air: dust devil, updraft, exhaust, implied smoke. —Kristen Lindquist