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Current Issue 47.1

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Haiku Society of America



Award Description

Each issue of Frogpond features a $100 "Best of Issue Frogpond Award" sponsored by the Museum of Haiku Literature Award "For the best previously unpublished work appearing in the last issue of Frogpond as selected by vote of the Haiku Society of America Executive Committee."

This award is made possible by the generosity of the Museum of Haiku Literature in Tokyo, Japan.

Online Collection of Award Winners

2024 | 2023 | 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | 2015 | 2014 | 2013 | 2012 | 2011 | 2010 | 2009 | 2008 | 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995 | 1994 | 1993 | 1992 | 1991 | 1990 | 1989 | 1988 | 1987 | 1986 | 1985 | 1984 | 1983 | 1982 | 1981 | (click on year)





best haiku award
Barrie Levine




best 46-3

Kat Lehmann



Lisa Gerlits


Bill Kenney




best 45-3

   Mary Stevens


best award Spring 2022

   Christopher Patchel



   Terri L. French




     jacquie Pearce

tide line . . .
every step taken
taken back

     Michele Root-Bernstein

waiting for the butter
to soften
summer rain

      Francine Banwarth




an old barn
peeling sunlight

      Robert Witmer

so many times
I wanted to say yes . . .
summer stars

      Angela Terry

mud caked boots
the heaviness
of regret

      Gary Hittmeyer



thousands of river stones
  the child's hand is full
             of one

      Steve TAbb

the box to check
that I'm not a robot—
winter rain

      Cherie Hunter Day

fog-shrouded coast
we listen
to the view

     Annette Makino



after the rain
a blue sky
I don't trust

      Robert Epstein

convalescence . . .
autumn revealing
the river

      Paul Chambers

to explain

     Mimi Ahern




change in pitch
as the nail enters wood—
an ache beyond reach

      Cherie Hunter Day

over the crib
a universe
in suspense

      Peter Newton

off to on I disappear into the visible

      Francine Banwarth




third deployment
the unfinished dollhouse
beneath a sheet

      Steve Hodge

heat lightning
the sound of white corn
being shucked

      Michelle Schaefer
         Bothell, WA - 39.1

onion skin
I open myself
to the rain

      Bill Pauly
         Asbury, IA - 38.3




braiding my daughter's hair
just enough tension

      Carol Ann Palomba
         Wanaque, NJ - 38.2

blister moon
a wish
rubbed raw

      Eve Luckring
         Los Angeles, CA - 38.1

afternoon rain
emptying a book
of its words

      Peter Newton, Winchendon, MA - 37.3




still watching me
with her knowing look—
my childhood doll

      Gwen Gurnack, Boston, Massachusetts 37.2

air show . . .
the ice cream girls
compare nail polish

      Anne L.B. Davidson, Saco, Maine, Frogpond 37.1

her letter . . .
I'd forgotten
paper can cut

      Tom Tico, San Francisco, California, Frogpond 36.3



   silence of snow
we listen to the house
   grow smaller

John Parsons, Norfolk, England, Frogpond 36.2

porch swing    my feelings    come and go

Ce Rosenow, Eugene, Oregon, Frogpond 36.1

new love the up and down of her teabag

w. f. owen, Antelope, California, Frogpond 35.3

dawn swim—
making a butterfly of water
of light

Kristen B. Deming, Bethesda, Maryland, Frogpond 35.3



summer heat
the strands of hair not captured
by her braid

Michael Ketchek, Rochester, New York, Frogpond 35.2

mating dragonflies—
my overuse
of dashes

Aubrie Cox, Muncie, Indiana, Frogpond 35:1

after she leaves
the weight
of hanging apples

Marsh Muirhead, Bemidji, Minnesota, Frogpond 34.3



    how some things end—
onion flakes
    in the market sack

William M. Ramsey, Frogpond 34:2

whale songs . . .
when did we stop

Bud Cole, Ocean City, New Jersey, Frogpond 34:1

most of
what is


a wild


Scott Metz, Oregon, Frogpond 33.3




woodsmoke . . .
the guilt of living

Roland Packer, Ontario, Frogpond 33:2

lapping shore water—
the things we take
for granted

Carmen Sterba, Frongpond 33:1

first frost
the echo in the caw
of the crow

Mark Hollingsworth, Frogpond 32.3



bare maple
my daughter says
she'll come back

Yu Chang, Frogpond 32:2

reddening apples—
my newborn tries to suckle
the orchard air

Dejah Leger, Frogpond 32:1

autumn riff
aspen leaves a few notes higher
than the stream

Harriot West, Frogpond 31:3



rain settles
some of the pollen
some of the plans

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond 31:2

empty house—
a whisper of mother's voice
in the autumn wind

Curtis Dunlap, Frogpond 31:1

the glare off snow
has the run of the house
February's extra day

Burnell Lippy, Frogpond 30:3



year's end—
what made me think I needed
a harmonica

Carolyn Hall, Frogpond 30:2

From the A-bombed tree
seeds start to fall
this year also

Yasuhiko Shigemoto, Frogpond 30:1

distant singing—
the winter stars
almost touch

Ian Daw, Frogpond 29:3



open scissors beside a vase of water

Eve Luckring, Frogpond 29.2

circle of pines
God absent
from the wedding vows

Carolyn Hall, Frogpond 29.1

after sunset . . .
the shapes
of the clouds

Hilary Tann, Frogpond 28:3



autumn morning—
repainting our bedroom
the color it was

Mike Spikes, Frogpond 28:2

spring evening
the children's promise
not to get cold

Marcus Larsson, Frogpond 28:1

spring rain—
milk in her left breast
unexpectedly sweeter

Duro Jaiye, Frogpond 27:3



autumn wind
in his sweater pocket
the missing button

Nancy S. Young, Frogpond 27:2

the numbness
of scar tissue—

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond 27:1

jackknifed rig
the trooper waves us
into wildflowers

Robert Gilliland, Frogpond 26.3



late summer
black men spreading tar
on the side road

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond 26:2

dim light
the night nurse
describes the rain

Joann Klontz, Frogpond 26:1

squash vines
long and hollow
the last late evenings

Burnell Lippy, Frogpond 25:3



spring plowing
a flock of blackbirds
turns inside out

Tom Painting, Frogpond 25:2

knowing your cough
but not your face—
invalid neighbor

Valerie Matsumoto, Frogpond 25:1



Independence Day—
I let him touch
a little bit of me

Fay Aoyagi, Frogpond 24:3

all around
light falling in a field
of fireflies

Robert Mainone, Frogpond 24:2

up to my ears
in birdsong

John O’Connor, Frogpond 24:1



summer evening
fanning myself
with a paper moon

Stanford M. Forrester, Frogpond 23:3


Carolyn Thomas, Frogpond 23:2

snake hunting the boy sheds his shirt

Makiko, Frogpond 23:1



dry heat—
to the same withered flower
a bee returns

Charles Easter, Frogpond 22:3

garden work—
talking to each other
back to back

Dimitar Anakiev, Frogpond 22:2

close lightning
the metallic taste
in my mouth

Charles Easter, Frogpond 22:1



snowflakes glued
to the kindergarten window—
no two alike

Harriet Axelrad, Frogpond 21:3

I brush
my mother’s hair
the sparks

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond 21:2

starry night—
biting into a melon
full of seeds

Yu Chang, Frogpond 21:1



January thaw
the narrow path
fading away

Mark Alan Osterhaus, Frogpond 20:3

Father’s funeral
suddenly small

Celia Stuart-Powles, Frogpond 20:2

porch swing
now and then a breeze
from the river

Robert Gibson, Frogpond 20:2

in the cold rain
their snow fort

Tom Clausen, Frogpond 20:1

faint city stars …
the moth’s copper dust
in my palm

Ebba Story, Frogpond 20:1



ill again
a dry leaf
across porch boards

Hayat Abuza, Frogpond 19:3

Logging road—
the pileated woodpecker
flings its cry ahead

Carol Purington, Frogpond 19:2

spring planting
her refusal
to compromise

Anthony J. Pupello, Frogpond 19:1



the night

R.A. Stefanac, Frogpond 18:4

the white v of a killdeer’s wings
opening in the wake
of its cry

Wally Swist, Frogpond 18:3

Lily pond
with one step the snowy egret
moves the moon

Matthew Louvière, Frogpond 18:2

leaving the park—
glimpses of cherry petals
on the soles of shoes

Ebba Story, Frogpond 18:1



i climb the mountain with my eyes never ending snow

Pamela A. Babusci, Frogpond 17:4

bird shadow
from tree shadow
to fence shadow

Christopher Herold, Frogpond 17:3

getting louder
the calf
the auctioneer

LeRoy Gorman, Frogpond 17:2

a pile of rocks
shifting in spring rain
the stiff old man

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond 17:1



coming out of the woods—
the sound of crickets,
the empty sky

Peter Yovu, Frogpond 16:2

mountain rose—
from thorn to thorn
a spider’s line

Christopher Herold, Frogpond 16:2

a single leaf falling
and with it
the morning dew

Kenneth Tanemura, Frogpond 16:1

the petals scatter
over graves swept
and unswept

Kohjin Sakamoto, Frogpond 16:1



An old woman with bread
waves the geese down
from the sky.

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond 15:1

over the earth’s edge
they all go—the white clouds
and the one sailboat

George Swede, Frogpond 15:1


amish territory
(Shipshewana, Indiana)

long beards longer
black clothes darker
under july sun

amish gentleman's
warm smile brief . . .
my skirt long and plain

an amish grin
as he cycles past
the station selling gas

the gloom within
a handcrafts store . . .
dolls with missing faces

facing mirrors
long-skirted woman
and her amish child

music on the wind
an amish foot softly taps
and abruptly stops

late night camp . . .
now a gentle lullaby
horse hooves heading home

Elizabeth St Jacques, Frogpond 15:1


Windswept Walk
a chain renku

windswept walk
an orange leaf
turns over

Michael Dylan Welch - June 6, 1990 - Foster City, Calif.

the wild geese—their echo

Adele Kenny - June 12, 1990 - Fanwood, N.J.

between her white teeth
a cherry tomato

Emily Romano - June 24, 1990 - Boonton, N.J.

such boredom
after the fireworks

Alexis Rotella - June 26, 1990 - Mountain Lakes, N.J.

the black swan
paddles the moon
into its wake

David E. LeCount - June 30, 1990 - La Honda, Calif.

a doe and her fawn
hidden in shadow

Elizabeth Searle Lamb - July 7, 1990 - Santa Fe, N.M

house at auction:
all the lawn ornaments
faded to grey

Lee Gurga - July 14, 1990 - Lincoln, Illinois

I prefer some clouds
the morning after surgery

Hal Roth - July 22, 1990 - Vienna, Md.

giggles & respect kenichi's yard kanji beware of mountain crone

Marlene Mountain - August 2, 1990 - Hampton, Tenn.

flowing from his wet brush
grass words tickle her fancy

Jane Reichhold - August 6, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

buckets set up
beside the bed
the roof leaks

Werner Reichhold - August 7, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

heaven and earth together
cradle sleep with gentle rain

Elaine Sherlund - August 10, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

tiny feet
from the garden shower
do a muddy stomp

Caroline Sutherland - August 12, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

luna wings stroke twilight tones of moth

Penny Crosby - August 13, 1990 - Gualala, Calif.

his hands
so gentle

anne mckay - August 23, 1990 - Vancouver, B.C.

placing seed potatoes
eyes to the sky

Joe Nutt - September 4, 1990 - Staunton, Va.

in her dark hair
the blossom
whisper white

Elizabeth St Jacques - September 11, 1990 - Sault Ste. Marie, Ont

Clearing brush he finds
someone's wedding ring

Gloria H. Procsal - September 18, 1990 - Oceanside, Calif.

moving awry
with the sunspot
a widow spider

Frederick Gasser - 21 September 1990 - Youngstown, Ohio

sioux medicine man
dances his prayer

Francine Porad - September 25, 1990 - Mercer Island, Wash.

men picketing
a Chevy agency
a child asks, "parade?"

Paul O. Williams - September 27, 1990 - Belmont, Calif.

the blind man lifting
his face to the sun

Dave Sutter - September 27, 1990 - San Francisco, Calif.

Wind and Sea . . .
tiny name
on the painting

vincent tripi - September 30, 1990 - San Francisco, Calif.

brilliant on the easel
the meadow's wildflowers

Charles B. Dickson - October 31, 1990 - Doraville, Ga.

recalling mother's perfume
on Saturday nights

Mitzi Hughes Trout - November 5, 1990 - Roswell, Ga.

"loneliest night of the week"—
searching the stars for solace

Geraldine C. Little - November 22, 1990 - Mt. Holly, N.J.

taken out of storage,
dark with dew

Hiroaki Sato - December 21, 1990 - New York, N.Y.

Plane rises dear of the fog
into profound darkness

Doris Heitmeyer - January 2, 1991 - New York, N.Y.

Will we go hunting
for the Blue Moon
next New Year's Eve?

Sydell Rosenberg - January 7, 1991 - Jamaica, N.Y

bleak January day
forced narcissus showing white

L. A. Davidson - January 22, 1991 - New York, N.Y.

first I saw her hair
in the wind, then the wonder
of her smile

Virginia Brady Young - February 15, 1991 - Cheshire, Conn.

no way to stop hearing
that old lovesong

Sylvia Forges-Ryan - February 19, 1991 - North Haven, Conn.

florist shop door
slowly swings shut
closing out the street noise

Karen Sohne - March 5, 1991- N. Massapequa, N.Y.

at the tap of
the baton . . .

Minna Lerman - June 1, 1991- Havertown, Pa.

both cats
beside the big glass vase
the chrysanthemums

M. M. Nichols - June 14, 1991- New York, N.Y.

gathered in a white apron
seed for next spring's planting

Lequita Vance - June 23, 1991 - Carmel, Calif.

chain renku, Frogpond 15:1
   See Michael Dylan Welch's Notes About Windswept Walk


falling leaves
day by day
the house grows brighter

Peter Duppenthaler, Frogpond 15:2

darkening path
the white morning glories
lead the way

Wilma M. Erwin, Frogpond 15:2



in a backyard
two women folding sunlight
into sheets

Sandra Fuhringer, Frogpond 14:1


the billboard’s shadow
a haiku/senryu sequence

late autumn
the billboard's shadow leans
into the woods

from the stream
two mallards fly straight up
through falling leaves

new year's eve blizzard—
a neon beer-sign glows
behind the steamed window

spring breeze
the woods road is still wet
under the pines

the old watering can
hangs one more rainbow
among the roses

the evening paper
on the darkening lawn—
first star

a letter stuck
in the 11th floor mail chute—
summer night

the blues singer
tells how bad it is
then the sax tells you too

quiet afternoon—
in the meadow, one daisy
leans on another

at the end of a tunnel in the clouds
a sunlit billow

crossing the tracks
at twilight—
the autumn wind

chilly sunrise
a strip of bark flutters
on the lake-side birch

twiddling my thumbs
the sun goes down,
the moon comes up

winter drizzle—
unloading a crate of live ducks
behind the chinatown restaurant

snow melts by the hardware counter—
the squares of color
in the paint catalog

in the mirrors on her dress
little pieces of my

a few blocks
from the street festival—
the evening quiet

at the pow-wow—
they pass out ordinary saltines
for the ceremony

while his passengers sleep,
the bus driver watches dawn

by the lawn's edge,
the dog barks at the darkness
then looks back at me

dead end—
a few leaves circle
in the headlights

late at night—
a woman alone in the restaurant
addressing christmas cards

snowy morning
the barber appears
in his mirrors

the columbine still

changing pitchers—
the base-runner looks up
at a passing cloud

in the subway
the young conductor cues
imaginary oboes

climbing the stairs
more slowly—
autumn evening

the frozen puddle—
kids slide over a pattern
of red leaves

snow drifts
above the bear's den
starry night

cold spring rain—
a piece of grass sticks out of the birdhouse

Cor van den Heuvel, Frogpond XIV:1

Up in the sky
hardly heard, hardly seen:
migrating birds

Ion Codrescu, Frogpond 14:2


Earth Day: Variations with Theme

a flutter of mourning doves,
& poised, light-bathed, one faun
nearby, a bell tolls changes

mapletree buds,
their small shadows
in water-glazed mud
nearby, a bell tolls changes

white lilac
fragrantly exuberant
beside the porchdeck
nearby, a bell tolls changes

putting down a book
to listen to the god
in the half-cleared brook
nearby, a bell tolls changes

high noon
straight-up trunks of poplars shadowless
a foreshadowing ... soon, soon?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

watching a program
on Brazil’s rain forests,
anger poisons calm
nearby, a bell tolls changes

on the grass
two pitched-from-a-car beer cans.
unthinking ass!
nearby, a bell tolls changes

a cardinal's song
blends with the brilliant sunset.
surely, nothing's wrong?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

cicadas at dusk—
seventeen years hence, shall we see
substance or husk?
nearby, a bell tolls changes

in moonlight
swish of owl wings, this heartstab:
glitter can gloss blight
nearby, a bell tolls changes

Geraldine C. Little, Frogpond XIV:3

First spring day
melting and melting and melting
tracks of the mountain man.

vincent tripi, Frogpond XIV:3


Green a-Glitter

Green a-glitter
fluttering in the sun:
the wind shines                          

hs 5/24/86

a butterfly’s shadow
crosses the artist’s blank canvas

the spare lines
of a wishbone
on the mauve plate                          


under the branches, toward
the compost heap

shovelfuls of stinking earth
bring a whiff
of incense                         


with a soft singing tongue
these strangers in sanctuary

so bright the night of seventh moon
gathering strawberries
cool and sweet                          


red smudges of dawn
on the curling river

odor of tea
rises in steam
from the dragon pot                          


barely a glimpse
of its ruby throat

in the stillness
the river
drips from her paddle                          


under the surface tension,
subsurface tension

for a little time
the dial tone
after you’ve gone                          


washing your lips
from the crystal glass

beyond our silence
a train whistle
into the distance                          


through a pale blue haze
the plummeting hawk

sharp memories
return an old fear
the glare of sun on glass                          


honeymoon over
his clothes in the moonlight

on the rock
net cast again
deep brine waters                          


my scaly fish hands

shore flowers


an aged odalisque
breathes fire

with tortellini:
rain outside                          


faint perfume wafts
from his hung-up damp coat

out all night,
the cat curls up
in the closet’s darkness                          


my son is whispering
with a snail-shell

plasticine worms:
their colors gone
into sunset’s burn                          


at twilight
the reapers’ last returning

her scarlet skirt
to the fiddler’s tune                          


film flaps to a stop
in the projector

of jane darwell’s eyes
on california                          


a fly lands on the mirror
… goes off again

in the ochre vase
seven lilies opened yesterday
three today                          


the tabernacle.
doors thrown wide

Jesus Christ among guards
the garden caught
in shadows of the moon                          


on the unmarked grave
a mockingbird

checking locks
as the rain


wet earth, the smell of it
again she turns in her sleep

a purple dawn
last of the butter beans
fill their pods                          


wintered reeds rattle
words that pierce

egret in flight
onion skin pages
turn over in the wind                          


he wails the blues, trumpet player
alone on the darkened stage

“it’s nothing but an act”
she shouts
the dogwood turning red                         


in a drunken torpor
dream of stubborn love                          


she wakes
to apple scent and reeling
maple leaves                          


jobless, letting the dog
run off in the moonless night                          


greener pastures
… that never were                          


and yet woodstock
still resonates                          


scatterflies on the window—
the silence of bloodroot
beneath the leaves                          


vigil lights
dissolving old feuds                          


my own name
in the family Bible                          


another year ends
snow dusted on the foothills                          


where the pines
and blackness meet                          


all night he listens
for the wild geese                          


occasional shots
of Jack Daniels:

no longer idyllic;
few places are                          


votive lights
shivering—all those earthquake
Armenian dead

seeding the compost pile
with earthworms again                          


dark place
where square grows round
and words glow bright

even in the computer
a drift of yellow pollen                          


the poem

a bright structure
neon green                          


planetarium music . . .
the blind boy’s fingers
land on the moon                         


across the milky way to sado
in braille                          


coming up the coast
the cry of snowgeese
darkened by snow

as if the tide
broke free of the shore                          


under the peak,
cold fog blows
against petrified reeds

uptrail, bristlecone
looming and rimy                          


pale stars
flickering over
our snow angels

called back in middle age
to a childhood home                          


along the road to mother’s
summer grasses
already brown

a piece of driftwood
for the plastic bird                          


out of season
amaryllis bloom
blood red

rustle of bracken
cloud hidden moon reappears                          


the mime’s hat
a little hole
large enough for crickets

salmon’s tail
river dancing                          


silvery fog
moves in across the shore
up the cliff

wistful thoughts of
youthful warmth                          


the fire leaps—
my grandson’s first Christmas Eve

lights out all the stockings
stuffed with starlight                          


so late, and on the pond
someone skating—
a gleam, a scrape

a splash of sparks
a whirring stone                          


by north light
the potter’s wheel

small dreams
curve within her hands                          


spectrums of color
volley back into themselves

a shriek from somewhere
at the masked ball                         


walking home at dawn
a witch
with a shoe in each hand

on the pilings
barnacles wait for the tide                          


and thunder of the stream at flood
remote as childhood

two last oar-swirls
finally still                         


a kingfisher
diving into
the moon

the golden hooves
of the carousel horse                          


a plover circles—
just beyond the sawgrass
there are graves

I miss the flash
of her white teeth                          


between darkness
and light
the flutter of a moth

the night’s sound
where all the hard words go                         


Hike up the mountain …
the book about God
weighs me down.

Old footbridge …
past looking                          


after heavy rain
the moon appears, bright,
over the marsh

all the dreams linger,
unfaded, still                         

hs 9/24/90

Hiroaki Sato, Geraldine Little, Rod Willmot, anne mckay, Jerry Kilbride,
   Carol Wainright, Stephen Gould, Adele Kenny, Hal Roth, Ruth Eshbaugh,
   vincent tripi, Michael Dudley, Lee Scott., Frogpond XIV:3

night storm—
a deeper dark unrolls
across the prairie

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond 14:4


Return to the Wall
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Washington, DC

removing her wedding ring
she brushes ¡t along
her husband's name

son of an MIA
the flag pin on his lapel

woman touches a name
while looking at
an old photo

elderly couple
their faces reflected
over their son's name

man in a filthy army jacket
tries to scratch on
his name

a candle
left burning on the ground
its flame almost out

Note: "The Wall," born of the author’s first impressions of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, appeared in the November 1988 issue of Frogpond.

John J. Dunphy, Frogpond 14:4



anzio beach …
another wave gathers
and breaks

Frank K. Robinson, Frogpond 13:1



How many dew drops make up these walls?

On razor wire
squats a crow—
winter night

The guards in their towers:
silk worms in cocoons of light

Black-uniformed winter fly
greeting me
behind bullet-proof glass

Walls of ice
deep in forests
frozen frogponds

My silver shackles—
gossamer threads
under these stars

Old guard escorting me
coughing like bullfrog
cigarette smoke for breath

Prison cat in shadows
stalking the shaft of searchlight

Capturing snowflake fireflies with my tongue

Beating time with nightstick,
cricket sound
while I urinate

Oh, winter moon,
what have you done now
keep-locked with the mountains?

A thousand temple bells—
the noise of the cell block

Suddenly they all look like green bullfrogs!

Decorating my cell again
I notice roommate—
a silverfish on my pillow

From out of Henderson’s Haiku,
my old wife’s photograph:
cells doors automatically locking.

Elliot Richman, Frogpond XIII:1

soothing rain:
the mown meadow releases
pungence of mint

Wally Swist, Frogpond XIII:2


collecting early colors linked lines

     september 88 october 89
     british columbia ontario

and now the rains      and grey silk rivers                a

     river rocks collecting early colors                e

a silvered thimble too      in the magpie's nest                a

     blackwinged birds      echoes zigzag orange                e

remembering the mark of zorro ...                a

     midnight moon the cougar's intense eyes                e

catscradle      quick between small fingers                a

     daily grows      the first snowman                e

but so few the carolers this year                a

     streetcorner santas      tambourines and bells                e

returning soon      the gypsies      the dance                a

     now sun incites soft trickling songs                e

and again      the seven days of poppies rushing red                a

     on the female statue a      blush of moss                e

this hourglass      reminding me      reminding me                a

     ... twenty aprils since your dandelion pleasures                e

spilling the wine      bright drops of pizzicato                a

     a mouse scurries from the silo                e

the clock strikes twelve … and all's well                a

     monks in mantra file                e

always and softly      the voice of the drum                a

     rhythm met by moccasins                e

small water snake … consider the form      the beauty                a

     the carrot peel      its curl                e

sharpening the knife      his sly smile                a

     she hums      silver on her fingernails                e

this last night of august      night of the halfmoon                a

     tiny echoes      her moonstone rosary                e

in the nave      sparrow      resting with ‘our lady of sorrows’                a

     small bleached bones      in a nest of leaves                e

forgotten now      those songs from the children’s hour                a

     clown      tipping his invisible hat                e

dreamspinners drift away with dawn      grey on grey                a

     a cloud in the cup’s tealeaves                e

sealed and cool      jars of blackberries      and blue                a

     her pride …      this autumn ritual                a

               anne mckay & elizabeth st jacques, Frogpond 13:2

Butterfly shadows …
not finding
the butterfly

W.C. Ginn, Frogpond 13:3


Abandoned Farmhouse

abandoned farmhouse:
bird nest in the mail box
also deserted

abandoned farmhouse:
wallpaper peeling back to
my childhood

abandoned farmhouse:
something scratching
inside the furnace

abandoned farmhouse:
the quiet bedroom where I
feared the dark

abandoned farmhouse: a
yellowed grocery list taped
to the counter top

abandoned farmhouse: a
moth flies out of the water

abandoned farmhouse:
my daughter
snaps pictures of our visit

Edward J. Rielly, Frogpond 13:3

Into old pots and pans
thrown out in the backyard—
the musical rain

Tom Tico, Frogpond 13:4

New Orleans Wedding

here & there
in bare treetops

in a shabby motel
all night
treefrogs in rain

in the swamp ...
a house on stilts


family get-together
all the eyes all the feelers
all the hands tearing shrimp

morning in the French Quarter
café au lait &
beignets with sparrows

the river wind blows
into the Quarter
& through his saxophone

on the riverfront
a stranger
takes my smile

the breeze
off the Mississippi
fills my skirt

behind grillwork
down darkness to sun
in a hidden courtyard

cool the alley
through the grillwork swirls
cat pee smell

in the morning shops
half the doorways
fill with shade

all the Mardi Gras colors
in the masks
in the houses

on the iron lace balconies
only flowers

from the suite dusk
fills in the river
& all the tiny lights are slow


huge limbs of the live oak
their reaching out
over the young grass

in a pecan grove
wandering spring shadows
cows & blackbirds

parked on the runway
its wings drooped a B-52
the winter sun

the slow day ...
in the empty motel corridor
a stack of dirty dishes

sundown in the empty bar
the player-piano keys

the big waitress departs
the china teapot

January sun ...
the cotton fields
dotted with leftovers

Anita Virgil, Frogpond 13:4



cajun cabin …
the aroma of hot gumbo
floats on the bayou

Charles B. Dickson, Frogpond 12:4

Beachfront Suicide: Reflections at Dusk

The tide of gulls breaks
like a scattering wave

Gathering silence
in my mind is
the hardest thing to do

Against the wind's chill
I button my sweater
feet dug in sand

The sun slips low
a carnelian red paving
the water with dark light

How many wanderers
have followed the sun

(The girl with the soul
of a gull
never came back)

purl like schools of fish
in dangerous waters

without breath without answers
a broken shell

Marian Olson, Frogpond 12:4

on Lookout Rock
one step
to the red hawk

Andrew J. Grossman, Frogpond 12:3

Six Ways of Seeing Summer Rain

A red shaft of light
dances on your moist eyelids:
the searing morning.

Frog Mountain rises
to arch its back in the clouds:
unforeseen downpour.

Three men and three birds
stand still in the forest, all
surprised by rain.

Rain like the Deluge:
a mudspattered Apache
sings in Cibecue.

The day hides itself
within a grove of aspen.
Thunder pursues it.

Uprooted clouds:
Summer holds the pale mountains,
calls down the clear night.

Gregory McNamee, Frogpond 12:3

gone from the wood
the bird I knew
by song alone

Paul O. Williams, Frogpond 12:2

Flashes of Sunset . . . All the Way Home

Flashes of sunset
between the cars
the eastbound freight

old railroad tracks
bobbing sunflowers surround
the turquoise outhouse

violet aster
still bright
behind me

in blue-black ocean night
the ferry's churning white wake
fades in the distance                               Gita Bodner

after her phonecall
following wet footprints
back to the bath

hikers at dusk
spilling with shadows
out the canyon mouth

high country
feeling the forest
hidden in the dark

sleeping in his be
—a dream
of her grandson's return                         Richard Bodner

Honolulu airport
breathing wet warm air
sniffs of unknown flowers

road to Ooty:

wrestling on the edge
of the State Fisheries tank
—two soaked monkeys

sunrise didj at Ulsoor Lake
dobi-wallahs slap
their morning loads on stone

mountain hotspring
snowflakes sink in
the rising steam                                    Gus Bodner

waking my daughter
frost-flowers on the window
from her breath

driving to meet our son
—nighthawks fly
before the storm cloud

past the plane's great wing
a strip of thin grass shimmers
in the jet wind

wet pavement
the smell of sage
all the way home                                  Virginia Bodner

Notes: didj/didjeridoo: an aboriginal instrument; dobi-wallahs: washer-persons

The Bodners: Richard, Virginia, Gus, Gita, Frogpond 12:2

longest night—
his forehead burning
into my hand

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond 12:1

Records of a Well-Polished Satchel: #6 Angles of Loneliness

what passion
you had, Akiko—
where can I put
even an inch
of tonight's anguish!

chocolate squares—
oh, it's a lonely beginning
this first night of return
to Japan

under this Basholess
pre-dawn sky
how rough
the angle of loneliness
along this eastern sea

like a puzzle
in a child's hand,
that back before me
in the pre-dawn dark

is it a walking
immense the black
over that bent-against-the-wind
angle of loneliness

a crane
skipping before me
on this seaside road,
its leg
a karate lift?

I hug
the boy to me—
how brave he was to point and say
This is a pencil
This is a cup

on my office couch
I lean back,
this Nescafe's
the length of my desire

in this bare
late-afternoon life
I make
my bare dinner
and set out fork and knife

to embrace
even a sleeve—
lonely angle

Sanford Goldstein, Niigata, October 1987, Frogpond 12:1



snow geese
Sarah discovers
the letter V

James Minor, Frogpond 11:4


twenty years later
you taste the same

through two marriages
framed behind Beethoven
your picture

talking with him
I taste you
in the tea you serve

on your porch
only the breeze
moves between us

in the dark car
the scent of you
and the rainy fields

juice from the apple
runs into my beard
as I wait for you

in the mirror
the only picture
of us together

your perfume—
looking up startled
at a stranger

in the cold fireplace
my last letter

Michael McNierney, Frogpond 11:4

Walking Home on a Summer Afternoon

summer afternoon—
the priest takes a blue pencil
from the blind man

coming up through
a gap in the city bridge
a checkerspot butterfly

a checkerspot in its sound
shifts direction

dog coming out
with the cathedral crowd
tail upward

half way home
pole shadows reach across
the widening road

train whistle—
two jets wrap the sky
with mist

a block from home
a pair of rain drops find
my haiku notes

Frederick Gasser, Frogpond 11:3

a swallowtail
on the prize-winning quilt

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond 11:3

Shohomish County Jail Haiku (For Karol)

Under cloudless skies;
nuclear resister jailed
missiles free to fly

April sun slanting
across the exercise yard
jail-bar shadows

Basketball stops
in the exercise yard—
convicts shoot the breeze

This heat!
snow-clad mountains framed
by my jail cell window

Little ladybug
caught after visiting hours:
doing jail time, too

Starting a new month
in Snohomish County Jail;
same old tea bag

Chilly June morning—
in a spider web
the jailhouse fly hangs

Sixty day jail term—
as it grows shorter
my growing beard

Johnny Baranski, 065811, Spring 1987, Frogpond 11:2

Last night’s fading dream …
On the blue teapot birds drift
beyond the willows

Ann Atwood, Frogpond 11:2

Wintering Over: New York Haiku

From the fire escape
the cry of the mourning dove
wintering over

New condominium
its exhaust grate claimed by
a new derelict

Wind chill minus five
the piercing whistles
of the starlings

The young mother
stoops to warm the child's mittens
between her gloves

Between lace curtains
the white cat's eyes
follow a snowflake

A crow flies down
to land in the new snow
its voice ringing

Madison Avenue
a row of ginkgoes mulched
with old Xmas trees

Suet on a string
suspended from a snowy branch
three sparrows make it spin

In the shadow of
office buildings, bagpiper's
Amazing Grace

Doris Heitmeyer, Frogpond 11:1

on the cardboard box
holding the frozen wino:
Fragile: Do Not Crush

Nicholas Virgilio, Frogpond 11:1



walking alone
the way oak leaves
refuse to fall

Carol Dagenhardt, Frogpond 10:4

pulling sound
from the wind

Geraldine Clinton Little, Frogpond 10:3

a horse-drawn plow:
sunflowers stand
in the traces

Eugene Warren [Gene Doty], Frogpond 10:2

still in the taste
of afternoon tea,
my grandmother’s brogue

Jerry Kilbride, Frogpond 10:1



autumn dusk the crooked road home

Marlene Mountain, Frogpond 9:4

The worm
far out on this paved lot
more rain

John-Bruce Shoemaker, Frogpond 9:3

top of the falls
your voice somewhere
in its sound

Ruby Spriggs, Frogpond 9:2

a steady rain
the dentist’s drill
turning to snow

Jane Reichhold, Frogpond 9:1



bitter wind . . .
the hand that cups the flame

Peggy Willis Lyles, Frogpond 8:4

a moth flies
through my breath
in moonlight

Bill Pauly, Frogpond 8:3

The family gathered—
a tear of embalming fluid runs
from my brother’s eye

George Swede, Frogpond 8:2

winter morning—
the closet dark with
old shoes

Sylvia Forges-Ryan, Frogpond 8:1



paddling slowly
through the reeds
that touch her hair

Rod Willmot, Frogpond 7:4

moving into the sun
the pony takes with him
some mountain shadow

Jane Reichhold, Frogpond 7:3

autumn sky
the wind folds and unfolds
a flock of sparrows

Alexis Rotella, Frogpond 7:2

The sound of scissors
through quilt stuffing:
chill autumn moon

David LeCount, Frogpond 7:1

autumn maple
a gust of yellow scatters
the child’s laughter

Charles D. Nethaway, Jr., Frogpond 7:1



that sonofabitch
on the corner has a knife—
the rain glistens on it

Bruce Kennedy, Frogpond 6:4

away from eyes
the stairwell holds
us in its arms

Rod Willmot, Frogpond 6:3

Against his coat
I brush my lips—
the silence of snowflakes

Alexis Kaye Rotella, Frogpond 6:2

the old woman
looking into the stars
sky all snowy

Lenard D. Moore, Frogpond 6:1



Thin icicles
on the telephone wire
her distant voice

George Swede, Frogpond 5:4

the old garden fence
now keeps the goldenrod
from the goldenrod

Paul O. Williams, Frogpond 5:3

Winter’s end
a bitterness remaining
in the dried apricots

Stephen Gould, Frogpond 5:2


Alexis Rotella, Frogpond 5:1



switching off the light
switching off the shadows

Ruby Spriggs, Frogpond 4:4

hot rock by the stream
each of the baby’s toeprints

Ruth Yarrow, Frogpond 4:3

one cricket sound and silence lighting the autumn garden

Elizabeth Searle Lamb, Frogpond 4:2

hoping the shape
of the navel will be good
father cuts the cord

Tadashi Kondo, Frogpond 4:1