la cucaracha
not as playful
as the song

Austin Evans

ukulele
in a black case
dust

TJ Holmes

sometimes the most
beautiful sound of all is . . .
silence

Dillon Damarin

roaring water
the water
never looked better

Alex Brase

la cucaracha
not as playful
as the song

sometimes the most
beautiful sound of all is . . .
silence

sometimes the most
beautiful sound of all is . . .
silence

top quarter champion

TOP half Chamption

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

bottom quarter champion

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

the pastor’s sermon
in the background
we pass notes

the vibrant butterfly
rests on
a wilting flower

Kort Branscome

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

Kort Branscome

Spanish metro;
Italian boys think
we can't understand them

Lexi DeSollar

the pastor’s sermon
in the background
we pass notes

Jackie Dumitrescu

TOP half champion

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

CHAMPION

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone
 

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

BOTTOM half champion

roadkill
becomes a little more
flat

Alex Brase

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

Adam Falasz

cool wind blowing
the geese chase each other
in the calm river

Aaron Fleming

unending surface
of the lake
bobber ripples

Adam Falasz

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

unending surface
of the lake
bobber ripples

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

top quarter champion

BOTTOM half champion

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

bottom quarter champion

this year
I am a ghost
without a home to haunt

one short email
erases all hope
for the future

this year
I am a ghost
without a home to haunt

one short email
erases all hope
for the future

Jackie Dumitrescu

computers filled
the click-clacking of keys
Sunday night

Debbie Vogel

she hangs up her dress
in the back of her closet . . .
until the next funeral

Heather Nigh

this year
I am a ghost
without a home to haunt

Austin Evans

la cucaracha
not as playful
as the song

Austin Evans

ukulele
in a black case
dust

TJ Holmes

sometimes the most
beautiful sound of all is . . .
silence

Dillon Damarin

roaring water
the water
never looked better

Alex Brase

What I liked about this pair is the contrast. The first one I pictured a very calm and peaceful river, with no sounds going on around. The water is still and calm, like everything around this. The second one though I pictured another river, but this river was roaring very fast and with a lot of waves. It is very loud, and there is a lot of motion going on, completely different from the first scene. It shows how the same thing can be completely different at times. Aaron

the vibrant butterfly
rests on
a wilting flower

Kort Branscome

the frail man
carries his groceries
alone

Kort Branscome

Spanish metro;
Italian boys think
we can't understand them

Lexi DeSollar

the pastor’s sermon
in the background
we pass notes

Jackie Dumitrescu

I like these two matched haiku because they both give the sense of something going on in the background. First, there is the Italian boys talking in the background where the focus is actually on them despite all of the commotion in the Spanish metro. Then, there is the sermon going on in the quiet sanctuary where the focus is on the note passing going on in the background. Dillon

roadkill
becomes a little more
flat

Alex Brase

opossum in the road
not just playing
dead

Adam Falasz

cool wind blowing
the geese chase each other
in the calm river

Aaron Fleming

unending surface
of the lake
bobber ripples

Adam Falasz

I love the imagery these haiku provide and how well they relate to one another. Each is obviously about road kill, but both go further to describe the road kill, which make them dark but descriptive. In the first poem, it seems that someone observed a piece of road kill being run over many times that alters how it looks and makes it even nastier. In the second, it appears that the road kill is still in good enough condition that the animal could just be faking, but upon closer inspection, the worst is found. Both are disheartening but both are highly descriptive and make incredible literature. It was definitely hard to vote for just one of these haiku. Adam

I love that these two haiku are talking about the same kind of thing. In the first haiku, an animal is being run over by cars over and over again and becoming more squished into the pavement. In the second, an opossum had been hit. Also in the second haiku, the second and third lines have a duality. The opossum could not just be playing dead, or the opossum could not just be playing, but dead. Alex

one short email
erases all hope
for the future

Jackie Dumitrescu

computers filled
the click-clacking of keys
Sunday night

Debbie Vogel

she hangs up her dress
in the back of her closet . . .
until the next funeral

Heather Nigh

this year
I am a ghost
without a home to haunt

Austin Evans

I liked this pair of haiku because I could easily relate to them. Moreover, I could picture them in the same scene. I spend my nights in Scovill working on homework. I always find it interesting to compare how many computers are filled on different days of the week or even times of night. As time passes, it is easily to see the patterns of who fills Scovill and when they come. Sunday nights, unsurprisingly, are often busy nights. After the weekend, people often try to catch up on the work due for the following day. I can imagine how busy the place will be just a few short hours from now.

The first haiku links into this atmosphere. In the midst of homework, projects, and other things to be caught up on, students often sort through various emails. I can vividly remember one night in Scovill when I opened a devastating email. I finished submitting my group assignment on Turnitin.com, and I awaited the email that allowed me to go back and check our “similarity ratings”. When I opened it and learned we had a 10%, I was instantly nervous. It turned out that one of my teammates plagiarized his entire section. I had four hours until that class, and I spent the remaining time figuring out how I would approach my teammate. Thankfully, he took the blame and went to our teacher who gave us a second chance. Debbie

This could be my favorite haiku
written by a classmate this year. Not only do I think ghosts are real cool, I also see a deeper, darker meaning to
the haiku. I interpret the subject of the poem not to be a literal ghost,
 but
 a
 person
 that
 has
 been
 absolutely
  broken
 down
 by
 life.
 Struggling
 through
 life,
 things
 just
 got
 harder
 because
 they
  have
 lost
 their
 home
 where
 they
 used
 to
 “haunt”. Jeremy