Ana Drobot, Romania
wet season –
the underwater world
in virtual reality
wet season –
my imagination
runs dry
hot tea –
even our smiles
grow warmer
https://africahaikunetwork.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/mamba-17-february-2025.pdf?fbclid=IwY2xjawI30y9leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHY_GbXRyQQXPD5Jhknr0VoTQ7aF_sVOh5bsZzEN2xq_RIkU_RDcJjg0fbw_aem_v3fntXId4dKzdgNRt0Fydg
steaming
sesame seed bagels…
queue at the new pastry shop
--Steliana Cristina Voicu (Ploiesti, Romania)
***
Florian Munteanu might have received a black forest cake filled with cherries in Bucharest, Romania.
the last night before
evil spirits fly on the earth
cherry tree birthday
https://www.asahi.com/ajw/articles/15648521?fbclid=IwY2xjawI30gZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHa7URe4zPFT6jEPQsLoaclDF5FXgHfaZnt-pA0HMKmkEvLJ5LEr2pucznw_aem_rFfm6w0sccZvU1HmBn-gLA
haiku by Steliana Cristina Voicu
pastry moon –
my sister baking
pain au chocolat
a new sound
from an old instrument
spring thaw
-------------------------------------
Cezar-Florin Ciobica (1971- ). From "Frogpond", 37 (3), Autumn 2014, The Journal of the Haiku Society of America. Issue edited by Francine Banwarth and Michele Root-Bernstein.
The kigo "spring thaw" in this haiku matches perfectly with the first two lines. "A New Sound of an Old Instrument" is the title of the 1979 album by Moondog featuring music played on the Breil pipe organ. In the above haiku, "from" is used instead of "of," so we can conclude that it is not referring to a recording of the Moondog album being played as the snow and ice melts, but that the instrument actually exists in front of the poet. Furthermore, since "an" is used rather than "the," we can infer that the instrument does not belong to the poet but rather is being played by someone else. And since the actual kind of instrument is not concretely stated, we can infer that "old" refers not to the physical age of the actual instrument but rather that it is an old kind of instrument. Here we come full circle back to Moondog in imagining it might be a pipe organ. The spring thaw resonates not only with the new sound produced from an ossified preconception of the kind of music that instrument should play, but also shows that the poet's feelings themselves have been freed by the music.
Selected and commented on by Dhugal J. Lindsay
https://mainichi.jp/english/articles/20250227/p2g/00m/0su/015000c
februarie 2025 / theme - sky
Second Prize a whole life in a patch of sky bedridden — Mirela Brailean In the first two lines, we are invited to think of life in a big way, as big as the sky. But the poet keeps the scale of human life in perspective. It is “a whole life,” but seen in just a “patch of sky.” Still . . . there is something breathtaking in the gesture. The third line provides context, even as it offers multiple readings. There is great sadness in a life confined. Perhaps all that can be seen from the bed is a bit of sky through a window. But with those first two lines, it could also be read in an expansive way, as a life unfettered by earthbound limitations. A powerful and moving poem.
https://thehaikufoundation.org/thf-monthly-kukai-march-2025/
snowflakes
first light after
cataract surgery
--
Cezar Ciobika (Botosani, Romania)
Selected by Dhugal J. Lindsay
https://mainichi.jp/english/articles/20250227/p2g/00m/0su/010000c?fbclid=IwY2xjawIv-QlleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHdovL1or0kFY-vE6zhDN5SVXnFffzpLUfGxMSHdTUyTfPjOg-VzA6LbApA_aem_i2bkwrufJv7cnFeKj5VSyQ
Kira
A piece of heaven for tourists with its fauna and flora, the Danube Delta is tough on the locals living on a strip of land, as they are dependent on boats at all times. Many of them drifted away like floating reeds, but the elders remained. They are deeply rooted in the banks of the Danube. It’s a mild, autumn day, same as it was fifty years ago, when the cranes were leaving and the fisherman brought Kira by boat to be his bride.
He fares her back now; there is no graveyard here...
scythe on shoulder –
how beautifully grows the grass
in her eyes
Hidden paths
In the harsh light of noon, the woman’s hand over the eyes trembles like a broken wing She lowered the garden fence, so she can see as far as the horizon, where someone appears now and then, but never reaches her. As the sparrows are dozing off among blue morning glories, the silence seems too hard to be broken, but a ship’s horn sounds and some ray of hope is flitting across her blushing face. Time to pull off the weeds on the pathway home again...
two cups of tea –
coming at the right time
a cloud of rain
There comes a day that seems like the very last one, when you feel the urge to take the final steps, where you also took your first, so I take my backpack and head to the train station. Once arrived, I wend my way through the blue-eyed thistles (childhood friends). Everything is unchanged, only the forest looks like a defeated army. A motorbike raises a monster of dust who is about to engulf me, but rain drops collapse it. I finally can see my slumped shoulders house and a fluttering flowered dress.
homesickness –
greeting me with open arms
the scarecrow
Lavana Kray