Fall Haiku

yellow sun–


a baobab tree


on my to do list


–Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo (The Hague)



solstice sunrise


the leaves of a cypress


begin to dance


–Lucy Whitehead (Essex, U.K.)



country music


I dance in the clothes


of my ancestors


–Slobodan Pupovac (Zagreb, Croatia)



Moon festival


whispering to myself


in a foreign language


–Agus Maulana Sunjaya (Indonesia)




Autumn equinox–


a seesaw keeps its balance


unaware in the park


–Teiichi Suzuki (Osaka)



mosquito net–


tonight I hunt for


the stars


–Ana Drobot (Bucharest, Romania)



Courtesy of Asahi Haikuist Network/David McMurray



Haiku of Nobuko Katsura

the first day in spring –

a wind from the ocean

but no ocean in sight


wild geese –

between their cries, a slice

of silence


Christmas –

this sadness of being a wife

when did I first feel it?


wake up

in cherry blossom

white midday


the woman at high noon

untiringly watches

a distant fire

Nobuko Katsura was born Noboko Niwa in Osaka in 1914. She learned haiku from poet Sojo Hino, editor of the ‘Kikan’ (The flagship). Afterwards she founded the Marumero (Quince) haiku group with Kenkichi Kusumoto. During WWII, as planes bombed her house, she gathered her haiku works and fled the fire. Nobuko often wrote haiku about women and their everyday lives. She was a former editor of the Modern Haiku Association of Japan.


Take What You Need, Leave the Rest Be

There is nothing placed on this Earth that deserves to be destroyed or wasted for human

convenience. To destroy tree and leave them unused simply because they blocked the view

of a garden, or to kill animals only for their fur, is not a rightful way to share the world with

another. To waste and discard something due to your own selfishness is an act that goes

against the Creator, and strays you from the Red Road.


Now tell me one little thing if thou has any sense:

Which of these two is the wisest and happiest – he who labours without ceasing and only

obtains, and that with great trouble, enough to live on, or he who rests in comfort and finds

all he needs in the pleasure of hunting and fishing?

– Gaspesian Chief


365 Days of Walking the Red Road

Terri Jean

Chiyo-ni (1703 – 1775

Chiyo-ni writings were influenced by Matsuo Basho. “One with nature” is Chiyo-ni style and she was immersed with it.


ah butterfly–

what are you dreaming

working your wings?


a single spider’s thread


ties the duckweed


to the shore


hands drop


all things on the ground – the clear water


on the road


today’s rain

the seed for clear water


when dropped

it is only water–rouge flower dew


Courtesy of Patricia Donegan and Simply Haiku

Song for the Ohlone

by Martha Robrahn


We have walked these hills and valleys long before your time
When the waters ran clear, the forests stood tall
The earth gave us all we could ever need
And we lived our lives in dignity


When the padres came into our land
We met them with a smile
We shared what we had
And we learned what we could
They came to save us we were told
Our sacred ways were not the way
To save our souls


In this land of the brave and the home of the free
Tell me what freedom means for me
My land is gone, my people scattered
And no one seems to think it matters
That the sacred ways we lived our lives
Are now only told through the white man’s eyes


We built the missions, worked the land
Toiled for days on end
When we tried to return to the life that we loved
They beat us and chained us
We did not understand
They said we no longer belonged to the land


In this land of the brave and the home of the free
Tell me what freedom means for me
My land is gone, my people scattered
And no one seems to think it matters
That the sacred ways we lived our lives
Are now only told through the white man’s eyes


And if crumbling mission records do not clearly show
Our births and deaths from then ’til now
Then the government says we cannot be
What we’ve been, who we are, the Ohlone


Our habitat destroyed, our numbers thinned,
It doesn’t take too much to see
If we were four legged or winged or finned
You would call us an endangered species


Courtesy of Indians.org


The Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bar Area includes the counties of San Francisco, San Mateo, Alameda, Contra Costa, Santa Clara, and most of parts of Napa, Santa Cruz, Solano, and San Joaquin.

May Haiku

A long list


of side effects . . .


winter rain


Plona Oblak


autumn martyr in the first draft


Cherie Hunter Day




of Adam Smith


free of charge


Patricia McKernon Runkle


Courtesy of the Modern Haiku Association

Haiku of Kyoshi Takahama

willingly bitten

by an autumn mosquito

of Yakumo’s old house


the lighthouse is low,

prominent is the sound of

the foghorn.


a morning glory


a tropical fish submerging



on the wayside,

a tomb of ’awa’ pilgrim


the spring

of the country where

sparrows also fear no people


under the moon,

walking in a disguising costume

as a certain person.


Kyoshi Takahama 高浜 虚子 1874 to 1959 was a haiku poet during the Showa period. Masaoka Shiki, his mentor, gave Kyoshi his pen name. He studied Edo period Japanese literature and worked for a literary magazine called Nihonjin. Kyoshi was known to experiment with irregular numbers of syllables. In 1898 he managed the haiku magazine called Hototogisu which Shiki previously managed.