Haiku Kukai 1 Favoriets
Global Haiku • Millikin University • June 2019
vacation on a beach
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a warm sunny day Raisa Zamacona |
the boat's wake Alysa Doneske When reading this kukai, the smell of the water, gasoline from the boats, people barbequing comes to me. The sun is shining and the rays of the sun are heating the water making it easier to be able to see the fish swimming underneath. People are jumping into the water, others are fishing and smoking, you can tell it is a good day. This haiku also reminds me of the summers spent at the lake with my family and friends and how my mom would make the boat go really fast while I was tubing and just flying out as well as when I used to sail competitively. Overall, I would say this kukai brings back a lot of great memories. Raisa Zamacoma, June 2019 |
musty and bright
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first day of school |
house at the beach Raisa Zamacona I love the incredibly vivid imagery of this one. The birds singing songs indicate to me that the sun is in full rise, making the house warm. The sand is a bright yellow, reflecting that sunlight. I can smell the salt as I listen to the waves mixing with the chirping birds, the bird call’s high notes mixing with the thunderous crashing of waves. I have never been in a proper beach house, either, which is why I find it so surprising how vivid this image is for me. The implication that the birds are singing to the waves is also interesting, making the sounds more of a call-and-response than a contest to see who can make the most noise. Emily Does, June 2019 I really liked this haiku because it gives me the sense of a calming afternoon on a beach feel. When I read this for the first time, I automatically assumed that I was on the beach at either a beach or lake house sitting in a chair in the sand either laying there tanning or reading a book. Adding in the birds singing and the waves crashing all makes the house at the beach come together to get the full effect of what kind of atmosphere that the writer is in. Alysa Doneske, June 2019 |
muscles that ache Dan Dolphin |
moonlit songbirds Emily Boes |
pop pop pop Dan Dolphin |
a cold room Emily Boes |
the sound of the bass fills Dan Dolphin |
wheels spinning Alysa Doneske |
crisp autumn air
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grandma’s house |
tag you're it Alysa Doneske |
damp earth Emily Boes This poem was interesting because you can assume it is a worm even if the words don’t directly say it. The word “writhing” is the key indicator that the subject is a worm, because after reading “you emerge from the soil” you could assume a lot of things. I like the dirtiness to the poem. A lot of poems paint an aesthetic picture or have some deeper meaning but this one is just about a worm coming out of the dirt. It is simply an observation of a worm. Geoff Divers, June 2019 |
my beautiful mom Raisa Zamacona |
jingle jingle bells |
winter gathering Raisa Zamacona |
silence Emily Boes I find this kukai beautiful. I think it has a lot of meaning behind each word. When reading it, I picture a room that is not too big with tables and food on the side for people to grab. The setting is of course quiet and people are walking in the room and checking the surrounding. Some people know each other very well, others are friends of friends or even acquaintances but regardless as the room starts to fill up the silence starts to die down and the laughing starts. I can picture some people feeling uncomfortable at first but after a few minutes that tension in the room fades. Raisa Zamacoma, June 2019 |
a wall of names Emily Boes I related to this poem because when I was young the traveling Vietnam War Memorial came to my town. I was not alive to know any of the names, so they didn’t carry much meaning to me, but my grandma noticed a name and broke into tears. The names did not register in my childish mind but for her older more experienced mind they did. It wasn’t just the one name she recognized that brought her to tears, it was the countless number of people who died in war that shook her. Geoff Divers, June 2019 |
the smell of beer fill the hall Dan Dolphin |
freedom to work Dan Dolphin |
long and tall desk |
patiently waiting
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sitting nervously |
the last one . . . I tell myself Dan Dolphin I can relate to this kuaki so well. All I can think of is when I eat a bunch of cookies and I know I should not be eating the last one but I still do, or when I am out running and I am exhausted but I want to run that extra mile. I think this kukai is one that most people can relate to because it is an “open minded” kukai. The tone used in this kukai is sort of funny because in a way you are trying to convince yourself it is okay and everything will be fine but deep down, you know that is not the case but at the same time you are aware you will not get harmed by it. Raisa Zamacoma, June 2019 |
staring at a blank screen Dan Dolphin This is one of my favorite haiku of the kukai because it is reflects a very real experience. This is something I have done numerous times to make sure I get home safely. Some of the language is emotionally charged, like the word “ventures” indicating more than just a casual walk home. The way the action is communicated, also, is interesting to me. It starts with the blank screen, then moves into the purpose behind staring at the blank screen, then the entire action is contextualized in the name of a woman’s safety. It’s a powerful haiku that has a fantastic natural progression and strikes a chord with me. Emily Does, June 2019 I really liked this haiku because it is sending a very powerful message. After reading it through a couple times, it is telling the readers that women are scared and nervous to walk home alone. Having that some sort of texting or calling someone while alone gives them some sort of comfort knowing that they are not alone in the moment. Being a women myself I have experienced this in my daily life. I have been in situations where I am walking somewhere alone and I do not feel comfortable so I will pretend to be talking on the phone with someone or texting another just so I have something to occupy myself for the time being. Alysa Doneske, June 2019 |
Emily Boes |
buttons click Emily Boes |
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filtered sunlight Emily Boes |
© 2019, Randy Brooks Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.