2025 Bloodroot Haiku Award
North Carolina  Poetry Society

Michael Dylan Welch, Judge

First Place

Mom’s trowel—

the dinosaur bones

we never found

Edward Cody Huddleston

This poem takes me to a time when the mother has passed away. The poet is seeing this old trowel again, which takes them back to their childhood. These words speak of shared imagination, where the mother encourages the child’s dreams and wishes, with a feeling of warmth and nostalgia amid loss. The poem’s structure echoes the Japanese tradition of employing a cutting word (kireji) that divides the poem into two juxtaposed parts, creating a synergy as we interpret the relationship of the two parts.

Second Place

deep snow

he shortens his stride

to match hers

             David Green

This poem demonstrates empathy, where the “he” adjusts his stride so that the other person (a girlfriend or wife, or maybe a mother?) can still walk comfortably. I picture the male leading the female, where the adjustment is made to be helpful, and thus empathetic, rather than with the male following the female, where the adjustment would be made out of necessity rather than kindness. The reference to snow maintains the Japanese tradition of setting haiku in a particular season with a season word (kigo).

First Honorable Mention

deep shade

a double-dog-dare

to eat one worm

Rowan Beckett Minor

We immediately wonder if this dare was followed. I hope not! What subtly helps this poem is that the moment takes place in deep shade. We can imagine children in any number of locations, such as an alleyway, under bleachers at school, or deep in the woods. This is a place of possible mischief, a little hidden from the outside world of parents or schoolteachers—a shady place. We may also wonder if this poem depicts bullying, but the wording of “double-dog-dare” may suggest a more friendly relationship.

Second Honorable Mention

lightning bugs rise from grass

the night rich with candles

and champagne

Martin Settle

Where I live, we have no fireflies, so a poem about them always feels enticing. It’s easy to imagine the scene here, where someone has prepared a special meal outdoors in candlelight. Even if it’s at a restaurant, the setting is natural enough to see lightning bugs in nearby grass, which we would typically see in summer. And of course, the firefly light is a mating signal, which finds resonance in the candles and champagne, also a mating ritual. This comparison between human and natural worlds is achieved with subtlety.

Third Honorable Mention

Your hands are all sky.

My hydrangea fingers

hold little bits of this.

Mary Hennessy

We have a more abstract poem here, one that challenges some haiku norms. We still have a two-part structure, and we can take the hydrangea to be blooming in spring (or perhaps summer, depending on the species), so we also have a seasonal reference. The sentiment of fingers being like hydrangeas, and the other person’s hands being like sky, helps us see the colors of both more vividly. The speaker in the poem is holding the other person’s hand, but also metaphorically holding the sky, which may suggest the open possibilities of a positive relationship.

Fourth Honorable Mention

one broken cookie

the barista says

this one is free

Karin Hedetniemi

The word “one” also suggests that this might be the last cookie available, but it’s broken. A broken cookie isn’t sellable, so why not give it away? Such a gift could still brighten someone’s day, as I’m sure this one did. We have a clear two-part structure with this poem, and a little insight into human psychology.

General Comments

Thank you for the opportunity to consider the poems in this year’s North Carolina Poetry Society Bloodroot Haiku Award, sponsored by Bill Griffin. In the 23 haiku entries I received, I looked for clear images with minimal intellectual interpretation, along with a two-part structure that’s central to the success of haiku as a literary art. Seasonal references often deepen a haiku too. An underappreciated target for haiku is the relationship of its two parts, where the leap between the parts creates space in the reader’s mind. This is the space where emotion can be implied. As Louise Glück once said, a good poem should summon feeling or idea, not impose it. These poems summon feeling for me, and I hope also for you.