Part 2:
Prune Juice, A Journal of Senryu, Kyoka,
Haibun and Haiga,
Issue 26 – November 2018
Four Senryu:
reproach –
finding a way back
from heated words
~
overanalyzing–
the smell of wood smoke
on the wind
~
winter walk
learning to negotiate
what can’t be seen
~
the house
where I was born
weeds & more weeds
Photograph by Marina Shemesh
Prune Juice, A Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun and Haiga,
Issue 26 – November 2018
~
photography by Mary Kendall
Highgate Cemetery, London
Photograph by Mary Kendall,
Blackwood Farm, Hillsborough, North Carolina
~
My deepest thanks to Steve Hodge, editor. This was his last issue as editor of Prune Juice. It has been a joy and a wonderful learning experience working with Steve as an editor.
Cover art by Chase Gagnon (c) 2018
Here is the link to the full issue of this amazing journal. It includes the amazing prize winners of the Jane Reichhold Memorial Haiga Competition for 2018 (edited by Steve Hodge and Michael Rehling), pdf: pj-26-rev
website: https://prunejuice.wordpress.com
My first time in this journal.
Haiku Canada Review, October 2018
hospice window
cherry blossoms
fade and fall
Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku (issue 41), October 2018:
frayed feathers
beneath the dogwood tree
silence
Three tanka published in one my very favorite journals.
GUSTS No. 28, Contemporary Tanka
(fall/winter 2018)
pounding rains
& the peonies are lost –
how did I miss
your pallor, your reticence
that last day?
turning from pale gold
to dusky violet
our last embrace
so certain
so final
rain patter
on windows –
just when it seems
the darkness is over
it all begins again
Three senryu and one haiga appeared in Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga, Issue 25, July 2018.
wild apple–
one bite is all
it took
inertia–
a thin coat of dust
on his burial urn
cloud cover–
darkness brewing
in daddy’s words
My thanks to editor, Steve Hodge.
Cover Art: Happy Monk by Jerry Dreesen
Moonbathing, A Journal of Women’s Tanka, Issue 18, Spring/Summer 2018
blue-black mussels
torn from harbor rocks
fill the worn rusty pail –
there was no looking back
when I left you
