Photo/Illutration(Illustration by Mitsuaki Kojima)

  • Photo/Illutration

more doves on my patio this summer a ceasefire
--Maya Daneva (The Hague, Netherlands)

* * *

a park bench
pigeons peck
bread crumbs
--Slobodan Pupovac (Zagreb, Croatia)

* * *

seasonal flu
pigeons take flight
from the bike lane
--Emil Karla (Paris, France)

* * *

evening light
two woodpigeons
on the pool fence
--Francoise Maurice (Draguignan, France)

* * *

three friends meet
for a glass of wine:
simply that
--Mario Massimo Zontini (Parma, Italy)

* * *

Younger days
roaming in the rain
to hide lost love
--Yuji Hayashi (Fukuoka)

* * *

he found me roaming
in the rainstorm unaware
I was wet with tears
--James Penha (Bali, Indonesia)

* * *

The hubris of thunder
Hugged by a humble rain
Two opposites, never apart
--Sonya Percival (Chicago, Illinois)

* * *

rainy morning
drops no longer carry
the smell of gunpowder
--Anica Marcelic (Zapresic, Croatia)

* * *

sunset over
the Tamsui river--
geese fly by
--Jiro Oba (Taipei, Taiwan)

------------------------------
FROM THE NOTEBOOK
------------------------------

warships burning
bright like magnesium
teardrops glitter in rain
--Ashoka Weerakkody (Colombo, Sri Lanka)

The haikuist rewatched the scene of Roy Batty, an artificial human played by Rutger Hauer, releasing a pigeon in the iconic 1982 film “Blade Runner.” The antagonist was a poet disguised as an outlawed replicant--etched in contradiction, tempered by a love for life. His final monologue left its mark on viewers like tears in the rain. Master poet Matsuo Basho admired this insect’s fight to the finish in 1690: yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe

A cicada’s song
so brisk, yet no sign
that presently it will die

In today’s column, haikuists reveal that poetry can help us to make sense of who we are. Writing haiku shapes our identity. In Kaohsiung, Taiwan, Jade Lee suggested this purpose: “when you are moody, you turn to poetry for consolation and expression of what is inexplicable.”

L’invite par chance
rain or shine--
still walking, walking chill but still…

Threatening clouds rolled towards Gordana Vlasic in Oroslavje, Croatia. Tejendra Sherchan was startled outside his apartment in Kathmandu, Nepal. Slawa Sibiga felt soothed in Tychy, Poland.

carrier pigeon...
a storm has just been
announced

* * *

winter morning
whirring pigeon in flight
feather on my balcony

* * *

late autumn
young pigeons, coo
on our bench

Francoise Maurice cooed poetically in Draguignan, France. Isabella Kramer found respite during a gentle rain in Nienhagen, Germany.

tears in the rain
I’ve seen Big Dog nebula
and Sirius fade away

* * *

insomnia
a nightingale drizzle
between me and the abyss

An expat in the tropical monsoon climate of Kaohsiung, Taiwan, Kyle Sullivan wrote a haiku filled with regret and the feeling that he has missed many opportunities in his life.

a string of longans
well beyond reach…
heat that hangs heavy

Timothy Daly dug deep in Senigallia, Italy.

still oak
the deep roots
of depression

Describing herself as a peasant poet in Srinagar, Kashmir, Saba Zahoor imbued this haiku with the sense of affliction.

The chill in my bones--
no warmth could ever thaw it,
here goes nothing

Twirling a fork while excitedly watching the Toronto Blue Jay’s win a World Series baseball game on television got Charlie Smith thrown out of his living room. Murasaki Sagano broke out into song when her idol came to bat for the Los Angeles Dodgers.

MLB homerun
spaghetti spoon misses
home plate

* * *

three homeruns
“Take me out to the ball game”
luncheon party

Relieved to feel a cooler autumn breeze reach down from northern latitudes to Osaka, Hisako Nishikawa realized the difference of air and sea temperatures could cause the winds to swirl.

a little cooler
now a typhoon is coming
prepare carefully

Anna Goluba hesitated in Warsaw, Poland.

Autumnal leaf
Shaking
Before making a decision

Mario Massimo Zontini took pity on dying musicians in Parma, Italy.

let them cry
they will die soon:
the cicadas

Joseph Elliott was hoping to find a final resting place in Kingston, Ontario.

gust of leaves
no more room
in the cemetery

Stoianka Boianova observed this flight-line: eagle in flight--recognizes the heights not the depths

M.R. Pelletier waited for rain to fall in dry Topeka, Kansas.

dark winds
arthritic cottonwoods groan
in the arroyos

Minko Tanev was choked up by smoke in Sofia, Bulgaria. Alan Maley felt like he had been speared in Canterbury, England.

blessed rain…
we can breathe
through countless fires

* * *

sad rain falls again,
straight down, pikestaffs of water
pricking the concrete

Yutaka Kitajima recalls crying tears in the rain 60 years ago in Joetsu, Niigata Prefecture. Ken Sawitri had a second emotion when storm winds picked up speed in Blora, Indonesia.

The swollen river...
kittens in a box starting
a maiden voyage

* * *

It is drizzling
another kitten’s not
getting home

On a rainy day in New York, Laila Brahmbhatt felt like a child again while following stained and scented recipes for making a pumpkin pie with golden corn syrup. Christina Chin recalled having played outdoors in Kuching, Borneo. Raj Bose consoled a child in Honolulu, Hawaii. Tsanka Shishkova saw rainbows form over Sofia, Bulgaria.

A child follows
pie scent drifting through
autumn rain

* * *

hopscotch
before the shower
mother’s call

* * *

monsoon rainbow!
adding one more color--
flyaway balloon

* * *

colorful rain
dust from the distant Sahara
in the raindrops

Monica Kakkar wrote a puzzle-haiku of homographs onto a slip of paper; slip can imply to fall, a pier, or a silk undergarment.

slippery slope…
slip into a slip
waiting for autumn

Having nothing to read, Vlasic composed haiku. Anthony Q. Rabang took to the stage on a rainy night in Vigan City, Philippines. Turning off a microphone during a lecture break near Bad Nauheim, Germany, Volker Friebel strained to make sense of what he was hearing.

lingering heat--
seasonal readers emptied
the library

* * *

everyone becomes
a pluviophile--
open mic poetry night

* * *

Monastery in autumn
voices in the storm
are incomprehensible

Beaten down by yet another muggy spell in Wells, England, Helen Buckingham wrote down this line:

heatwave back and fourth this year

Turning a calendar page in Brighton, England, Robin Rich realized that summer has become a four-months-long season:

heat waves exceed months in a summer

Lamenting the loss of four seasons, Mario Massimo Zontini complained the seasons are either dry or wet in Parma, Italy. The wet seasons are marked by linear rainbands, resembling huge rivers in the sky.

after the drought
the river drinks from the sky:
falling rain

Marshall Hryciuk held his breath in Toronto, Ontario. Chen-ou Liu cried in Ajax, Ontario.

rain on a river
duck and her ducklings
coast around a branch

* * *

this ache of tears
burdened by a loon’s call...
peace talks stall

In Moscow, Russia, Natalia Kuznetsova loves her grandchild, too.

war decorations
from three generations…
grandson’s wargames

Archie G. Carlos recalled the taste of olive oil dripped on crusty bread in St. Louis Park, Minnesota. Dorna Hainds prayed in Lapeer, Michigan. Boryana Boteva was fanned by wings in Sofia, Bulgaria. Yutaka Kitajima prayers were momentarily answered, but he was really hoping for “a heavy rainfall as steady as snowfall usually is in Joetsu, Niigata.”

tears in rain
felling great grandfather’s
olive trees

* * *

full begging bowl
the weight of the sky
in each raindrop

* * *

August draught
in a prayer for rain
dancing butterflies

* * *

Prayer for rain
sensitive to the sound of…
pitter-patter

Sudden cloudbursts are difficult to predict and can cause heavy destruction because they discharge all their moisture at the same time, like a rain bomb. Satoru Kanematsu felt as if he had been suddenly slapped in Nagoya. T.D. Ginting’s exuberant cry got cut short in Medan, North Sumatra. Alexander Groth sniffed petrichor in Berlin, Germany.

A downpour…
first single drop
hits my cheek

* * *

laughing out loud
on the train--
the sound of “(s)hush”

* * *

silence
and suddenly the scent
of rain

Morgan Ophir meditated. Marie Derley listened at the door in Ath, Belgium.

zen morning
the sound of one zucchini
in the rain

* * *

night at the hotel
the sound of unfamiliar footsteps
falling leaves

Shishkova made hay while the sun shone.

raining off and on
in the random sunny spots
honeybees and kids

Brent Goodman got fired up in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Groth’s haiku first appeared in “Scarlet Dragonfly.”

writer’s block
a sunlit dragonfly
ignites the rain chain

* * *

cannon fire--
this glow at the church tower
brighter and brighter

Monica Kakkar rejoiced when the sun reappeared in West Bengal, India. Marshall Hryciuk cheered a raptor in Toronto, Ontario.

scythe of sun…
breaking through the bamboo
first wind of autumn

* * *

disturbed parkland
a marsh hawk
scuttles out of bundled vines

Mariya Gusev momentarily glowed while watching a sunset with a friend on Cayuga Lake, New York State.

the lake at sunset
her face getting all lit up
by the evening fire

Olivier-Gabriel Humbert was hypnotized in Les Avenieres Veyrins-Thuellins, France.

The nights grow longer--
in the blue suns of her eyes
eternal summer

Foteini Georgakopoulou captured moving colors in Athens, Greece.

Tree silhouettes
in front of blue clouds
Going downhill

Pegah Rahmati Nezhad’s concrete haiku visually set apart letters that looked like trees swaying on water in Tehran, Iran.

weeping wi(ll)ow hair
caresses the moon afl(o)at
in teardrop lake

Masumi Orihara marveled at the lotus effect, the way rain rolls around the tiny bumps on a water repellant surface. Murasaki Sagano took shelter. Eva Limbach moved to the second choice on her dance card.

merging and parting
depends on the lotus leaf
water droplets sway

* * *

Shop curtain
put away speedily
sudden shower

* * *

coloured leaves
whirled around by the wind
our plan B

Bona M. Santos will likely wear a red poppy corsage on Nov. 11 to mark Veterans Day in Los Angeles. Poppies are a symbol of remembrance for all who have served in war, including those who have died. Slawa Sibiga’s haiku ends today’s column with a rhetorical question.

raining drones
beyond the mountain ridge
red poppies

* * *

trails of rain--
why is this autumn
so quiet

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The next issue of the Asahi Haikuist Network appears Nov. 21. Readers are invited to send haiku about throwing salt, on a postcard to David McMurray at the International University of Kagoshima, Sakanoue 8-34-1, Kagoshima, 891-0197, Japan, or by e-mail to (mcmurray@fka.att.ne.jp).

* * *

haiku-mug
David McMurray

David McMurray has been writing the Asahi Haikuist Network column since April 1995, first for the Asahi Evening News. He is on the editorial board of the Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku, columnist for the Haiku International Association, and is editor of Teaching Assistance, a column in The Language Teacher of the Japan Association for Language Teaching (JALT).

McMurray is professor of intercultural studies at The International University of Kagoshima where he lectures on international haiku. At the Graduate School he supervises students who research haiku. He is a correspondent school teacher of Haiku in English for the Asahi Culture Center in Tokyo.

McMurray judges haiku contests organized by The International University of Kagoshima, Ito En Oi Ocha, Asahi Culture Center, Matsuyama City, Polish Haiku Association, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Seinan Jo Gakuin University, and Only One Tree.

McMurray’s award-winning books include: “Teaching and Learning Haiku in English” (2022); “Only One Tree Haiku, Music & Metaphor” (2015); “Canada Project Collected Essays & Poems” Vols. 1-8 (2013); and “Haiku in English as a Japanese Language” (2003).

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