Posted in Haiku

Leroy Kanterman’s Scarecrow

Sunset . . .
the scarecrow stretches
across the field

© Leroy Kanterman (USA) (1923-2015)

The day is done, the farmer’s work is finished and he goes home for a well-earned rest! As the sun goes down, it brings with it long shadows and the poet has observed the scarecrow’s shadow lengthening across the field almost like the scarecrow itself is resting after a hard day’s work. “Scarecrow” is an autumn kigo, therefore the field may have been harvested, leaving it flat, which would also extend shadows….

The alliteration of ‘s’ sounds almost say ‘shush’ the scarecrow is resting….
Having the capital “S” on sunset may be a trait of the author to capitalize the first letter or it might be the poet’s way of portraying the influencing ‘power’ within the haiku… sunset itself.

A wonderful haiku.

– Brendon Kent (England)

Ah, yes. The scarecrow stretches at sunset. When I read this, I see a harvested field, perhaps with stubble of whatever crop was grown on it, and the long shadow of the scarecrow cast upon it. The field is flat, nothing high left on it, save for the scarecrow. And there are at least a couple of ways to view this scene, looking into the sun with the scarecrow in the distance, a black silhouette with its equally-black shadow stretching toward the viewer, or perhaps the viewer is somewhere behind the scarecrow, off to the side a bit, and the scarecrow’s shadow stretches away from him or her, the viewer, the speaker of the piece. I think it must be autumn when shadows are longer throughout the day, but they feel especially long as the sun sets on a clear afternoon/evening, and a chill begins to descend on the scene. But, hey, Leroy Kanterman said all of this, and more, in a mere seven words. A pretty good ‘ku.

– Dana Grover (USA)

I can see the shadow of the scarecrow stretching out over the field as the sun goes down, and perhaps the farmer is also stretching out on the veranda enjoying a cool beer after a hard day’s work.

I like the sibilance of the ‘s’ sounds, like an evening hush. A beautiful haiku

– Martha Magenta (England)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Haiku

Tiffany Shaw-Diaz’s Hummingbird

my thoughts come
and go

(1st place in the 21st Indian Kukai)

© Tiffany Shaw-Diaz (USA)

The hummingbird symbolizes the enjoyment of life and lightness of being. Thoughts here may indicate changes in mood. The swift movement of this bird can also be related to the thought process. It seems the person is indecisive or restless due to these thoughts.

– Hifsa Ashraf (Pakistan)

This lovely haiku could mean many things to many readers. The hummingbird’s wings move in the pattern of an infinity symbol—suggesting eternity, and continuity. The hummingbird totem indicates the sweet nectar within, and so it has a deep mystical quality. In meditation, our thoughts come and go, in fact, meditation is in part a process of letting go of thoughts that keep coming, not to fight them or hold on to them, simply letting them go. So, there seems to be nothing negative implied here—it’s all positive. It’s about inner growth, transcendence, and finding the heaven within us.

– Martha Magenta (England)

It’s about finding one’s centre in the midst of impermanence.

– Malintha Perera (Sri Lanka)


– Ronald Kleiman (USA)

I’m sitting here with my eyes closed (not while I am typing this) and can see in my mind’s eye the flitting and diving of the hummingbirds that visit my yard, often flying directly in front of my face and hovering, as if asking “what are you doing here?” Then flying off somewhere so quickly it is hard to see them go. Kind of like my thoughts. I’m hearing something being said which makes me think of something else, and off goes my mind, flitting and diving, missing what else is being said. Thoughts, coming and going, like a hummingbird, are what makes us alive, what makes life worth living.

This is a wonderful haiku.

– Dana Grover (USA)

The interesting thing to me here isn’t that thoughts come and go, but how much they move when they are seemingly in place. A hummingbird, even when hovering, is a very busy, restless, bird. As an unsuccessful meditator, I can relate to this poem. Even in moments of apparent stillness, my mind is unable to rest.

– Dave Read (Canada)

Since the content has been commented on extensively, I will touch upon the sound and rhythm of the haiku.

The most prominent letters in the poem is “m” in “hummingbird” and “my,” and “o” in “thoughts,” “come,” and “go.” The “m” sound mimics the flapping of the hummingbird’s wings, and the “o” sound provides a feeling of leaving or passing, which the last two lines discuss.

The rhythm of the haiku is meditative, especially with the ellipsis. From the rhythm of the haiku, you can feel the state of meditation the writer was in.

This haiku is like a Zen koan without the riddle, in that it puts you in a state of pure awareness without thought.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Haiku

Ken Jones’ Freezing Wind

Freezing wind
the dancing clothes
stiffen into people

Frogpond, 31:1, 2008

© Ken Jones (1930 – 2015) (UK)

When love and kindness is not returned, it takes the joy away from people.

– Malintha Perera

This reminds me of when I was a youth living in a really cold part of the world. Mom would do the washing, hang the clothes outdoors (in winter), they would freeze stiff, and when they were brought in, she would stand them by the stove to unfreeze. Seems perfectly normal to me.

– Dana Grover

If I was writing it, I’d put “stiffen” at the end of line two.

– Eric Lohman

Straight away, you are transported into a bleak picture… freezing wind, yet the next line ‘the dancing clothes’ seems almost joyous, a festive celebration. Then the reality strikes… ‘stiffen into people’.

This haiku has joy and sadness, a mixture of emotions.

On first reading, we have a happy yet harsh scene… that moment when even the festivities become too cold to enjoy fully.

Maybe the author has seen this ‘dancing clothes’ from a distance yet through the ‘freezing wind’ and as the author nears the scene, it becomes apparent they are only actually people… a far-to-near focus that feels quite disappointing.
Most of us have experienced extreme cold at some point and can relate to the ‘stiff clothes’ syndrome!… but also, as we get older, our bones feel like they are doing the same!

Is it just the clothes stiffening? Possibly attitudes are ‘stiffening’ too as the occasion becomes lost in a freezing wind!

I believe this haiku is showing us that while dancing and fun is being had by all with everyone joining in and interacting, once it is too cold (possibly metaphorically) everyone becomes how they were before… no interactions, everyone going about their separate lives oblivious to each other.

– Brendon Kent

I can relate to this happening to clothes on a line and to people as they get older. I remember my grandma hanging washing on the line, and how the clothes would freeze and become stiff as boards. People also become stiff with age, both physically and mentally, losing the joy and flexibility of youth.

– Martha Magenta

Well, a really nice idea—if I wrote it, I would have made it shorter:

freezy wind
dancing clothes
stiffen people

– Hannes Froehlich

The content and its message has been sufficiently touched upon, so I would like to mention the sound and rhythm of the haiku. To me, the strongest sound in the haiku comes from the letter “i” in “freezing,” “wind,” “dancing,” “stiffen,” and “into.” It seems to give the sense of cold that the haiku portrays. Also, the significant sound of “z” of “ff” makes a palpable impact on the reader. The word “stiffen” hits the reader hard, and makes for a solemn rhythm in the last line, which adds to the mood of the haiku.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

Ken Jones was not only a haiku poet, contributing regularly to UK haiku magazines and represented in British and American anthologies. He also played an important part in pioneering the western development to the haibun—an ancient Japanese prose poetry genre.

Ken Jones was until 2013 one of three editors of the print journal, Contemporary Haibun, and the online journal Contemporary Haibun Online. For his contribution to Pilgrim Foxes: Haiku and Haiku Prose, co-authored with Jim Norton and Sean O’Connor, Ken was awarded the Sasakawa Prize for Original Contributions in the Field of Haikai. He resided in Ceredigion, Wales with his Irish wife, Noragh. (The Living Haiku Anthology)

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Haiku

Lee Nash’s Mystery

my late night
mystery caller
Northern Lights

Joint winner, tinywords challenge, N° 17.1, March 2017

© Lee Nash (France)

This haiku is very pleasing. I wonder why the word “my” is used in line one. The Northern Lights are beautiful to look at. For me, it’s hard to determine the season, because the area where you can see the Northern lights are closer to the North Pole and you can have the pleasure to see them during six months of the year. Line two is strong—it is my favorite line in this haiku. I wonder if this would work better:

late night
my mystery caller—
Northern Lights

– Laughing Waters

The Northern Lights may indicate the “aurora” that has many patterns and colors. The narrator could be a lonely person who is having a sleepless night or maybe he is an introvert who wants to explore more of her own self.

There could be a spiritual meaning behind this haiku, where the aurora can be related to aura, a sort of feeling that we have during meditation. The colors, sounds, and lights all can be experienced during meditation.

There can be a religious aspect as well, implying that the narrator prayed late at night and asked for forgiveness, peace, and serenity in her life.

– Hifsa Ashraf

I like the twist. You think the mystery caller is a person, but it turns out to be the Northern Lights. He’s probably up late, unable to sleep, and catches the sight of her caller.

– Marilyn Ward

I agree with Marilyn—this is a very interesting juxtaposition. The poet has a late night mystery caller (line one and line two) which turns out to be the aurora borealis or Northern Lights. Here the poet might have stumbled upon, late at night, the spectacle that unfolds between April and September in a few selected places on Earth. Here, the poet sees a natural phenomenon that happens rarely—and immediately her attention becomes focused on one of the wonders of nature. Truly, if we just learn to be observant, nature has a lot to offer that would always keep us in awe.

– Willie Bongcaron

When we are in “love” with someone or with life, we see and hear every message in its finest moments on a daily basis. This senryu is quite romantic to me! This evening, “my late night” is very personal. It seems, my “mystery caller” is not one whom I do not know. I know him very well. It is what he will say once I pick up the telephone. That will be the surprise! Everything that occurs in our relationship or those who find love in a person or something is surreal! This is the beauty of finding what is worth living for. Those divine Northern Lights are breathtaking, magical, and it’s a delight to read.

– Cartier Luvit

“Northern Lights ” is a very dramatic phrase. First, I was absorbed by this word. In the first line, the word “my” falls into the reader’s mind.

And this haiku’s structure is divided into three parts. Usually, this structure is avoided, but there are exceptional haiku with this structure in contemporary haiku in Japan. Some of them have no story, as if each line’s juxtaposition is a flash. “Cutting” guides the reader to reading haiku.

There are also some exceptional hokku with this structure from Basho. Here is my translation of one:

bindweeds have bloomed
I’ll peel a melon 

This is a typical three-parts separate hokku.

– Norie Umeda

I enjoy the ambiguity of this haiku. It seems to be suggesting two interpretations: that the mystery caller is the Northern Lights, and that her mystery caller brought up feelings within her akin to experiencing the Northern Lights.

In the first interpretation, there is a mystical undertone, as if nature is speaking to her directly. This conversation with nature could have been spontaneous, and therefore he calls it a “mystery.”

In the second interpretation, when someone we love or care for calls unexpectedly, a torrent of emotions and memories usually pulse through us. This experience can be said to be like the Northern Lights in their phenomenal display.

If we look at the sound of the haiku, the most prominent letter used is “l.” To me, the “l” sound gives a sense of awe and excitement, which in turn is closely related to the viewing of the Northern Lights.

I also enjoy the lack of punctuation, which adds more readings to it. The pacing of the haiku is unpretentious for such a grand display as the Northern Lights. I think this works well in its favor, as often poems are dampened when poets overstate and over-express.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Shahai

Alan Summers’ Sparrow

dead sparrow haiku Alan Summers Screen Shot 2016-04-20 at 08.33.22
Haiku Canada Review, vol. 11, no. 2, (October 2017) ed. LeRoy Gorman

The first line shocks us into the present moment. Sparrows are beloved birds, not only because of their miniature size, but also because of their sweet songs and ubiquitousness. Sparrows as a kigo, or seasonal reference, qualifies for each season, and this adds to their universality perceived in the haiku.

The last two lines depend much on how one reads “light.” Is it light in color, light in weight, or physical light? Summers does not say, but from the feeling we get from reading to the end of the haiku, we might say it is a mixture of both compassion and irony.

The compassion comes from nature giving a spontaneous signal of care or love through a light sky in the evening. This period of the day is lovely and gives off a sense of peace.

The irony could be in the fact that with such a fateful day of a death, the dusk comes lightly (maybe an extended twilight) instead of a definite darkness that would go along with the mood of the day.

This haiku reminds us that nature can be unforgiving and be compassionate simultaneously—and most likely, this is all a matter of spontaneity.

Through the use of sound, Summers makes an even stronger impression on the reader. The use of “l” in “light” and “close” brings about the seriousness of the subject matter, in my opinion. With the alliteration of “comes” and “close” I believe the finality of the event is felt more.

The haiku seems effortlessly written, but the phrasing also appears to have been chosen with intention.

The way I interpreted the photo was that this is the view of the dead sparrow, if it could see. But maybe it is still seeing….

Alan Summers has composed an endearing and contemplative shahai (photo haiku) of feeling and nuance.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

Posted in Haiku

Dubravko Ivančan’s World

once we are
all dead
the whole world

original Croatian:

Jednom ćemo biti
svi mrtvi;
cćitav svijet.

© Dubravko Ivančan (1931-1982, Croatia)

I see this haiku in three ways. Firstly, when we are together and enjoy our time, that is the best time in our lives, where we enjoy our lives fully. But once we get separated, the whole world looks colourless. I see the word ‘dead’ here as a lack of interest, poor relationships, separation, etc. (especially family relationships).

Then, it could be associated with ‘departure’ as once our close ones are not anymore with us, we feel the whole world is dead or that we have nothing.

Another thought (maybe silly) is related to ‘know thyself’ where people don’t use their best potential and creativity. The concept of ‘being’ can be associated with it, as he used ‘we’ in this haiku, which may point to us being human beings.

– Hifsa Ashraf

Apocalyptic … !

But ever more relevant as the threat of climate change and nuclear war starts looking less and less like science fiction and more and more like a possible real world scenario …

This haiku leaves a huge question mark hanging over it … what then, if there is a then that has any relevance to humanity?

– Gabri Rigotti

I see two different interpretations depending on where the caesura is placed.

1.) The cut is after the first line:

once we are

all dead
the whole world

I am reminded here of Rene Descartes’ cogito ergo sum. The last two lines reinforce the first. And what I see here is the extinction of humankind. Morbid… and apocalyptic as what the kind Gabri Rigotti has earlier stated. I don’t want for humankind to reach this scenario, but who knows… humankind has become so intelligent (and scheming) that it has already devised ways and means to accidentally or intentionally make its kind extinct. If this happens, then other lower forms of organisms might inherit the earth. But then, who knows.

On the other hand, if we believe what God has said, He would intervene when humankind is about to make itself extinct. Then, there is promise and hope for humankind.

2.) The cut is after the 2nd line:

once we are
all dead

the whole world

I see this as a door that opens a myriad possibilities or eventualities. “Once we are all dead,” then what? Will the world cease to exist because humankind has been eliminated? Apparently, one interpretation of this ku suggests that (once we are all dead, the whole world is dead).

Or, the third line becomes an open-ended anticipation of what would be the final scene.

This is my take of this ku.

– Willie Bongcaron

I think “dead” here means just that—”dead” and if it is about all of us being dead, then I agree with the above, that it is apocalyptic and it relates to the possibility that humanity may wipe itself out.

The third line draws my attention more—”the whole world” means all of humanity, and if we differentiate between “the world” and “the earth” then we can see the earth continuing without humanity and “the world” we have imposed on it.

This haiku wants to be read over and over for the implications to sink in. It says a huge amount in a very few words.

– Martha Magenta

My instinct, for what it is worth, is to change the tense:

once we were
all dead
the whole world

which gives it a post-apocalyptic feel.

– Francis Franklin

The poets above have written a great deal of what I wanted to write about this haiku already, however I have one more idea to add. To me, this poem comes instinctively across with the feeling that when each of us perish, we will become the whole world. We are usually confined to our ego and thus to our individuality, but when we die, we once again join the collective consciousness.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Haiku

Maria Laura Valente’s Cold Spring

cold spring —
each flower withers

(NHK Haiku Masters, March, 2017)

© Maria Laura Valente (Italy)

According to my understanding, “cold spring” indicates the transformation period from winter to spring. During this period, snow melts from the plants, flowers, and trees that may be a point of withering. “Alone” here indicates the number of a flowers left behind, and that the rest withered during the winter.

The intrinsic side is again the transformation of our life, thoughts, and feelings from one stage to another. “Flowers” may symbolize desires, longings, or wishes of a person that wither, die, or change during this period. “Alone” indicates that each person has his or her own journey to experience transformation, of which is not easily understood by others.

– Hifsa Ashraf

This strikes me as a chilling reminder that we are all alone in death. The word “alone” on its own in line three emphasizes the aloneness.

– Martha Magenta

Overall, a very nicely done haiku. Line one brings us the season with “cold spring.” It is the beginning of spring, a symbol of the new cycle of life, new beginnings. In line two, the word “each” indicates more than one, and also shows us that no one is safe—we all will experience the same final result. So, “withering” confirms the ending result of life. Line three is a nice addition. Even with more than one flower present, they are still in solitude—this brings a touch of sadness. I do find this haiku very pleasing. This brings me to an inspired version:

early spring—
cold snap frost flowers
the baker whistles

– Laughing Waters

This ku strikes me with a realization that there are events and things in life that we have to do alone. There are points in life when nobody could accompany us; perhaps, even in some decision-making, specially about our individual life, others simply can’t do it for us.

– Willie Bongcaron

Spring is often referred to as a joyous time of blossoming, but often people overlook the withering of flowers in all times of spring. Not all flowers stay beautiful and blossom throughout spring. Some come for a short time with brilliance, and fade away among still blossoming flowers. In this sense, I believe this haiku could be stating that each time period is not just one thing, but convex.

Another feeling I get from this haiku is that pain might have even more pain behind it that we do not perceive. The cold spring is already harsh as it is, but the poet notices how the flowers wither alone, and this amplifies the mood of being in a cold spring. Despite this melancholy perception, it does bring us more into the moment, and allows us to truly experience pain. There is a Buddhist saying that goes something like, “To get rid of pain, become fully immersed in it.”

A look at the sound of the haiku adds to the feeling behind it. The prominent “o” sound in “cold,” “flower,” and “alone” works to bring out the starkness of the moment.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comments.

Posted in Haiku

William J. Higginson’s Tick, Tick

the tick, tick
of snow on the reeds . . .
sparrow tracks

© William J. Higginson (USA)

As I see it, the scene conjures a time of early winter, when the snow falls, yet perhaps lightly. And adding to the scene, sparrow tracks (line three) which construes that once, a sparrow was exploring the marshy portion of this location. I take the whole image as another manifestation or celebration of the transitoriness of things and events in our lives.

The persona here could be a tracker or a hunter out to satiate his or her eagerness to score a game. And, finding the place devoid of life, contemplates what to do next… or retreated in the appreciation of the quietness of his or her surrounding.

– Willie Bongcaron (Philippines)

Here a sparrow has left its tracks in snow. Perhaps the sun has risen and the snow on the reeds begins to thaw. The tick tick of the thawing snow seems to reflect the sound of the sparrow hopping. A lovely atmospheric haiku.

– Martha Magenta (England)

I want to point out how potent this haiku is sonically. The first line begins with an onomatopoeia with “tick, tick.” The next sound that is important is the “s” that is present in “snow,” “reeds,” “sparrow,” and “tracks.” There is also a strong presence of “o” sounds and “t” sounds. All in all, this is one of the most musical haiku I have ever read. I believe the sounds reflect the noise of the sparrow and the snow falling on the reeds lightly. Just from its sound, it is a wonderful haiku, and brings us fully into the moment portrayed through the images.

The similarity between the “tick” of snow falling on the reeds, and sound of the sparrow making its tracks is interesting to ponder. In my perspective, it reflects the contrasts of life, and how if one thing is degenerating, something new is being made at the same time to balance it out. The reeds are being covered by the snow gradually, while fresh tracks are created by the sparrow. Essentially, in death there is life, and in life there is death.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky (USA)

Posted in Haiku

Ken Sawitri’s Plastic Bag

with the plastic bag
a stork wraps the moon
on its head

© Ken Sawitri (Indonesia)

Published originally in: Robert Epstein and Miriam Wald (Eds.), 2016 (1st ed.), Every Chicken, Cow, Fish and Frog: Animal Rights Haiku, Middle Island Press.

Below are various reactions to this haiku by four poets:

My first reaction is one of horror—an image of a wild bird with its head stuck in a plastic bag. I can’t see where the moon comes in though.

– Martha Magenta

I too, find this to be an upsetting image—the horror of a defenseless bird entrapped in a human-made object intended for a legitimate use that has resulted in a devastating (to the stork) consequence. Yet, the author does not come right out and state the horror, he merely reports it, and, “oh, by the way” (he seems to say), the plastic bag reflects the image of the moon, a natural element caught with an unnatural object.

– Dana Grover

To echo Dana and Martha, this haiku brings a feeling of a natural life form trying to adapt to an unnatural object. When I read this, the stork is making a nest out of the plastic bag by wrapping it on top of its head. Under the moonlight, the plastic bag is illuminated in darkness. The word “wraps” seems to reflect the act of creating circles, and this is why a nest came to mind. It brings an unsettling image and reminds us of just how much trash humans have created.

At grocery stores where I live, plastic bags are recycled, and good people know to recycle them versus filling a landfill or discarding them off the side of the road. If anything, I hope this haiku reminds people to recycle and reuse plastic bags. In a world where everything is connected, each action we take, no matter how small, makes a difference.

– Jacob Salzer

I think this haiku contains an opportunity for a mix of interpretations. In fact, I believe the author intended for us to get a visceral reaction out of it: one that is at once shocking by the image, and awed by the beauty of the moon. To me, these qualities make it a strong haiku, as it reflects life: life is mixed, with good in bad, and bad in good.

The plastic bag is flimsy, unnatural, and a thing eventually meant to be thrown away. Yet, here in the haiku, it has the dignified duty of carrying the light of the moon on the stork’s head. This act can have many interpretations, but the spiritual meaning could be that the stork feels a sense of enlightenment and it has gone beyond its mind or individual self. It seems like a representation of a loss of ego and becoming one with the spiritual self.

This haiku does carry overtones of death, but that could be the death of the ego, and the “attainment” of enlightenment. The haiku portrays a disturbing moment, however the heron could theoretically shake the plastic bag off its head in an instant. But we are kept in suspense, and this marks one of the qualities of haiku: since it is a fragment of a sentence, the poet can create mystery quite easily.

Even the sound of the haiku demonstrates a mixed feeling. The “o” sound in “stork,” “moon,” and “on” brings a soothing resonance. However, with the hard sounds of “plastic,” “bag,” and “wraps”, the haiku delivers a harsh feeling.

The open and striking nature of this haiku allows one to ponder its image for a while. I think like a good haiku, it cannot be pinned down in meaning and mood.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky
What do you think or feel about this haiku? Let us know in the comment section.




Posted in Haiku

Anto Gardaš’ Buzzing

plum blossoms—
every crown buzzing
the same tune

original Croatian:

Procvale šljive.
Svaka krošnja zuji
istu melodiju.

© Anto Gardaš (Croatia) (1938-2004)

There is this happy feeling when you look at plum blossoms in their different shades of pink. True to their form, plum blossoms, for the Chinese and Japanese people, “symbolize perseverance and hope, as well as beauty, purity, and the transitoriness of life.”

Therefore, I see this ku as some form of celebration of life. That, after the cold harsh winter and the barrenness of the surroundings, trees begin to awaken and show their inner beauty to the appreciating and thankful world.

“Every crown buzzing the same tune” for me shows this celebration… when spring comes to life starting with the awakening of plum blossoms.

– Willie Bongcaron

A kind of celebration that is truly in sync with every type or colour of the flower. Crown may indicate a tiara, if I am not wrong!

– Hifsa Ashraf

I paused on the word “crown” for some time. I looked through translation machines to see if the translation matched up, and it does. My initial reaction was that of flower crowns, where you tie flowers together to create a crown. It is a playful and sweet act. The buzzing could be from bees trying to collect pollen while the crowns lie on the ground.

Plum blossoms are elegant and charming, and they come in early spring. The oneness of the buzzing could be indicative of the joy people feel in unison when spring starts to sprout.

In another sense, with the idea of a crown, each person is given the dignity of nature to use for their benefit and decoration. The buzzing of the same tune shows that maybe, we are all the same in the eyes of nature. We only make distinctions in our minds and create divisions through our own projections.

The joy and message of unity of humankind made me select this poem. When we imagine this haiku’s scene in all its beauty and meaning, we are transported to a glance of heaven.

– Nicholas Klacsanzky

What do you think or feel about this haiku? Tell us below in the comments.