Marianne Paul
your hand
settling easily
into mine
the interlocking fingers
of river and shore
Editor's Choice, tanka, cattails
The poems examine the daily rituals of life and death, as rivers become symbols of mutability and mortality. The most memorable ones deal with the grief that accompanies deaths of loved ones, including father and mother.
~ Robert Reid, The Record
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bowl of cherry pits
my grandson tries to guess
my age
Winner, Canada category, Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival 2016
"A haiku that captures attention by not mentioning cherry blossoms. Instead it focuses on the aftermath, edible fruit. It reminds us that blossoms are merely a fleeting prelude. The brilliant juxtaposition of cherry pits and growing old is deepened by the interaction of the grandchild and grandparent. The complexity of thought and feeling that results is the goal of every writer, but one not often achieved."
-Judge's comment
I had the delight of being asked some questions about my haiku-writing practices by Michael Dylan Welch. View the interview here.
Mother River
morning on the St. Lawrence
river fresh tin foil
granite rolls up like a whale’s back
keel-line in the sand
imprint of a turtle’s dragging tail
wake slips into a gentle parting of the ways
later in bed i feel weightless
beneath me but the sense
of water
body memory: a swelling and dipping
the phantom sensation
of mother river