Haiku Attempts 01 Favorites
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2022
1 snowflakes |
2 tiny paws in the snow Audrey Button (4) |
3 doors shut behind me Audrey Button This haiku reminds me of all those moments when you feel rejected "doors shut behind me" losing opportunities and experiences, concretely, when someone tries to keep you out of their lives because of any reason, you do not feel loved by them and therefore that feeling of emptiness comes to you, no answer, no explanation just that doubt about what if? What if? It could have been a yes, why not me? What is wrong with me? And then, again the necessity of change something in your life, the urge of newness, changing something not to feel bad with yourself, trying to be more perfect "a new room" and "a new home". Marta Viudez Garcia, Spring 2022 |
4 paws under the door Audrey Button (8) As an avid dog lover, this one spoke to me on so many levels. I lost my bestest puppy pal in 2017, right before Christmas. Two weeks ago, my little family welcomed a new fur baby into our home. Our first dog since losing our childhood dogs. He’s a wonderful fit for us and already knows endless love. I can’t tell you the amount of times where I’ve gone into a different room and had those tappy little feet come right behind me. There’s nothing more comforting than the presence of a dog and I forgot how much I missed (and needed) it until opened our home back up to a dog. Mandy Thrasher, Spring 2022 |
5 burnout Sydney Sinks (4) I like this haiku because I love walking outside in the snow. Watching the snowflakes melt on my gloves is also so satisfying. You can look at the beautiful shape that is on your finger for just a second and admire it before it turns into water. Something about the snow is just so mesmerizing and beautiful. I also love the use of the word "quiver." I can imagine the snowflake shaking and falling slightly as it melts away into nothing. The word "burnout" is also eye catching, it makes me think of me having burnout and having that feeling of all of my ideas and passion just melt away like a snowflake. Audrey Button, Spring 2022 |
6 coffee on a Sydney Sinks (4) |
7 medicial beeps Mandy Thrasher (5) |
8 chasing through Emma Antonelli (10) This haiku is one of my favorites. I really enjoyed this haiku because it gave me the feeling of how I've felt since I first started dreaming. When I first started wondering what I wanted to do I was chasing dreams, but wasn't sure exactly what was planned. Being a freshman, I'm still not sure what I want to do and I feel like I'm chasing dreams but I don't know which ones yet. Madyson Fritch, Spring 2022 |
9 happy home Emma Antonelli (9) In the Kukai favorite list, one that stuck out to me was done by Emma. It made me think of how families appear to people in the public eye, but they can be the complete opposite behind those curtains. My family has so many friends and everyone is constantly over but when people leave, sometimes things can get heated, and nobody sees the other side of my family. This one made me think of some crazy things that some families go through. My family is just always fighting and yelling at each other, but some families deal with addiction, abuse, assault, depression, and so many more. It was a great haiku that left me wondering and kind of concerned. There is something about the language she uses that makes me think that families have two personalities. The "closed curtains" was a great way to take this haiku to a new level. Andrew Tufano, Spring 2022 I spoke on this in class a little. With social media being such a huge presence in our lives, sometimes it feels like it’s a race to see who can look like they’re doing the best in life. Happy home, nice home, lovely children, good jobs -– nothing bad. We try so hard to make it look great for other people that we end up neglecting it. Too many ‘Facebook families’, not enough actual families actually bonding, loving, and being nurtured from within. Mandy Thrasher, Spring 2022 This haiku makes me think about the way we present ourselves to the outside world. From one glance, a family could look incredibly well put together and happy – completely functional. However, behind closed doors is another story. A broken side that the public never sees. I find that I do this myself. I put so much effort into my appearance so that nothing ever seems off. Jasmine-Kalei Humphrey, Spring 2022 |
10 walking outside |
11 it's so cold Mandy Thrasher (7) |
12 fresh snow Emma Antonelli I really liked this haiku because this is something that my family does either by accident or on purpose every year. This year there was a pumpkin on a rock in our yard from before I got home for Thanksgiving and was still there when I left to come back from winter break. We also used to take our pumpkin guts from carving pumpkins (and eventually the pumpkins themselves) and put them in a pile of dirt behind our barn to see if they would grow. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't. Gwen Klinkey, Spring 2022 |
13 bags packed |
14 Christmas morning Christian Andrews-Stewart (3) |
15 sweater weather Kelsey Crotz I really enjoyed this haiku because I can feel the warmth and comfortableness within this picture. It could be either fall or winter depending on where you are located in the world. I wear sweaters for mostly winter and flannels for fall. I can see it being a snow day with your significant other and you are trapped inside the house with just movies, pajamas, hot chocolate, and cuddles. This is my ideal way of spending winter with my significant other. This haiku makes me feel warm reading out the items that help us portray that image. I also feel like this is the normal life when winter comes for this couple. They have dealt with the winter before, so now they are just prone to staying in warm pajamas and cuddling up to movies and hot chocolate. Chase Nelson, Spring 2022 |
16 she wiggles her nose. Kelsey Crotz (4) |
17 the leaves crunch |
18 icicles drip |
19 you are the air |
20 farmer's market |
21 silent night Christian Andrews-Stewart (3) Many haiku that we have read in class bring me back to my grandparents' house. Every year, for as long as I can remember, we have always gone to me grandparent's house every Christmas Eve. I imagine her beautifully decorated, full, bushy tree in the corner of the living room with tons of presents wrapped in gorgeous paper, just for me and my two sisters. I can see all of us hanging out after dinner, digesting our food, and just admiring the Christmas decor and each other's company. Camryn Wagner, Spring 2022 |
22 crisp air Isabel Vincent One of my favorite winter activities is skiing. The feeling of the wind brushing against my face is so satisfying. Something about winter air is fresh and it almost feels like you could drink it. Also, the feeling of the cold air rushing against your warmer body is so refreshing. When I close my eyes and think about this haiku, I can see the snow-covered trees and the path before me as I feel the adrenaline of speeding down a hill. Audrey Button, Spring 2022 |
23 following the nurse Isabel Vincent (5) I had two separate imagined feelings with this haiku. There's the initial, almost "expected" feeling of arriving at the hospital for someone you love that is there. More than likely, the person is in some sort of critical condition, and this may be one of the last times that you are seeing them. As you walk down the cold halls, you hear the distant sounds of machinery in different rooms beeping as you walk past. Every few feet are those large mirror balls so doctors and nurses can see each other coming around corners. While going down the hall following this nurse, you pass someone being rolled on a bed to presumably some operating room, and you choose to keep looking forward, not acknowledging the person in bed. But that made me start thinking from the perspective of the person in bed. Last semester, I was in and out of the hospital several times, and it was a much different experience having to follow the nurse (be it walking or lying in bed) to wherever it was you were going. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, but it was honestly a frightening experience. Alex Saviano, Spring 2022 |
24 hot cocoa
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25 I can be alone Amanda Handegan (6) This haiku caught me as soon as I read it. It sounds like the speaker is trying to convince themself. I can imagine sitting alone after a breakup or just realizing that you'll be alone for the first time in a long time. Even when it's for the right reasons, it's still heavy. But instead of dwelling on that or trying to convince themself that they'll find someone else eventually, the speaker has accepted that they're on their own, and they're ready to heal and live for themself. They also aren't letting this heaviness stop them from enjoying their life. They're watching the sunset and allowing themself to engage with this goodness. Sydney Sinks, Spring 2022 |
26 the night sky |
27 out of the ash |
28 the sting of disinterest Gwen Klinkey (11) |
29 snow covered fields Gwen Klinkey (4) |
30 as the sun goes down |
31 texting you Marta Viudez Garcia (7) I love this haiku for its warmth as well. This warmth isn’t related to the temperature of warm, but the warm sensation and feeling within your heart and gut towards someone. This person is expressing how much they care about, but also rely on this person because of how important they are to him. I really enjoy the way they express how much they rely on their significant other because it is a healthy reliance instead of unhealthy and tasteless. I relate to this haiku a lot because when I grow feelings for someone, I tend to also always have to be in communication with them. It makes me feel safer and happier within the relationship. Chase Nelson, Spring 2022 |
32 choosing to be that flower |
33 shoes left in the garage |
34 shovels scrape |
35 fluorescent light |
36 someone new Alex Saviano (3) |
37 i wish you Alex Saviano (8) Another one from the Kukai favorite list that made me reminisce of the past was done by Alex. I really liked this one because it made me think of my first dog, Nero. This dog meant the world to me, and he sadly passed of cancer in 2011. He was the best dog and never bothered anyone. He would love the snow and loved being pet. He was my Christmas present from my godfather, and I remember losing him was the worse. The writing of this haiku really hit home and made me immediately be able to hear my Nero bark again. The use of "I wish" and "one last time" is so smart and it brings the idea of missing and longing for something. I really loved reading this and it brought back good memories and made me miss my first pet. Andrew Tufano, Spring 2022 |
38 a gentle breeze Andrew Tufano Reading this haiku, I take myself back to my softball days in middle school. Going out to the field on a Saturday afternoon, hearing the sound of softballs cracking against the balls, the sound of fans, and the smell of grilled hot dogs. We would spend hours out at the fields with the light breeze of the summer days cooling off the players as they are out there in the sun. Camryn Wagner, Spring 2022 |
39 freshly baked cookies Andrew Tufano (4) |
40 warm and cozy |
41 a pair of eyes, |
42 masks go up and down |
43 safe haven of wonder |
44 took down the pictures Geovanny Tapia (7) |
45 butter in the pan Geovanny Tapia (11) I often put poetry in the more serious group of literary art, since it's fueled by emotions. This haiku pushes the boundaries of the serious "nature" of poetry. There is emotion behind it, frustration is the first one that comes to mind. You come home after a stressful day at work and are trying to cook for yourself, but then just give up and order take out. It's like the final straw to a bad day of being an adult. Emma Antonelli, Spring 2022 This haiku is just . . . so silly and so real. Butter burns SO quickly when you’re cooking and you always have a million other things you’re doing at the same time. The one time you aren’t careful or diligent when you cook is the ONE time something as simple as butter gets fucked up. Jasmine-Kalei Humphrey, Spring 2022 |
46 typing quickly Kelsey Crotz (10) This haiku felt very honest. I think we can all relate to that experience of needing to say something but holding your tongue for a long time until it finally bursts out of you. While those emotions clearly need a release, this haiku reminds me of a moment when you speak but you really shouldn't. I can picture the speaker in an argument that has built up for a while, fighting with someone who they care a lot about (or, at least, have a lot of emotions attached to). The bunker reminds me of a war, which corresponds to the fight that I'm picking up on. There's some distance here, too. The speaker is in a place of refuge, but the fight is still happening, and they'll have to face the consequences when they leave that refuge. Sydney Sinks, Spring 2022 |
47 grandmother Madyson Fritch (4) |
48 strings won't tune Geovanny Tapia (4) |
49 teething black kitten Sydney Sinks (5) |
50 New Years drunk on your couch Sydney Sinks ((8) |
51 learning constellations Audrey Button (8) This haiku has a very safe feeling. The hand on the back seems to be a very steadying force, guiding the other person in a positive direction. When I read this, I miss that feeling of having someone else protect me and teach me the ways of the world. I was devoid of responsibilities and had so much to learn. While I still have a lot to learn, I have realized that the things I do know are catching up to me. Maybe one day, I will know more than I don't know. With that knowledge comes weight and responsibility. Those things can be very frightening. However, the constellations bring me back to a peaceful state of mind. It is a comfort to know I will always be able to wonder what is out in the universe. That will always be something I can learn more about. Kelsey Crotz, Spring 2022 I also really enjoyed this haiku. It gave me two imagined responses. One; being a little kid and my dad showing me the stars and being with me and being content with everything around me. Two; being on a first date with the person you've always wanted to be with and you're looking at the stars and they hold you close and you just want to stay in the moment forever. Madyson Fritch, Spring 2022 |
52 foggy 4am Sydney Sinks (7) |
53 burrowing my head |
54 covered from head to toe |
55 corner of the room |
56 dueling hearts Emma Antonelli (6) |
57 slithering snake |
58 finger in my ear |
59 an early snow angel Sydney Sinks (5) We spoke very briefly about this one in class but I always end up getting so excited about snow that I go play in it when it's barely on the ground. Sydney and I went to the pancake breakfast during finals my freshman year and on the way back it was snowing for the first time so I made all of us lay down and make snow angels even though there was barely any snow on the ground and the grass and leaves were still sticking up through what little snow there was. Gwen Klinkey, Spring 2022 |
60 a humorous obituary Randy Brooks (2) |
61 hushed whispers |
62 slippery hands |
63 passing in the hall Gwen Klinkey (9) |
64 ob-la-di, ob-la-dah Mandy Thrasher (4) |
65 a childish youth |
66 childhood friends Gwen Klinkey (13) I love this haiku because I really admire how creative the author’s style of writing is. My favorite part is how she compared Facebook memories to “cave drawings”. I think that is such a fun and interesting way to describe seeing pictures and videos of people from the past. It is so inspiring to think about pictures and videos in that way as well, we take pictures/videos of moments in time that we want to remember or that tell a story, which is the modern-day version of a cave drawing. I honestly was just really blown away at the way this haiku made me think and told such a fun story in a very unique way. Amanda Handegan, Spring 2022 |
67 pins & needles Randy Brooks (4) |
68 spotlight |
69 screaming out Emma Antonelli (4) Reading this haiku, I could experience those moments of life when anxiety and sadness take completely yourself, trying to escape from the "screaming out" even being "into the dark abyss" where no one is there for you even yourself so there is no answer to your pleas "still silence". Marta Viudez Garcia, Spring 2022 |
70 skipping rocks |
71 hat, scarf, gloves Geovanny Tapia (4) I loved this haiku because it captured how vulnerable people become when they go out in the snow. We have to put on so many layers that we feel absolutely ridiculous, and we have to deal with some ridiculous circumstances. Snow is sort of a humbling thing. We have to drive slower, waddle instead of walk, and we are put off-center. Because of this, people revert to more of a "true form". They aren't as careful about keeping up their facades. Some people aren't as friendly as usual, getting frustrated with the hassle of shoveling or ice being such a safety hazard. Others reach out to the fellow man, saying "drive safe", sharing soup, and giving tips for snow survival. Snow brings out the human in us. While we are physically covered with scarves and such, our souls are bare; under there. Kelsey Crotz, Spring 2022 |
72 horizon of leafless trees |
73 wheezing engine Geovanny Tapia (5) I love this haiku because it is extremely relatable. I have a really old car that makes terrifying noises so I immediately connected to it. There have been so many times I have gotten in my car and felt exactly like my “old friend”. I think there is something really heartwarming about knowing your car is old and messed up, but loving it anyway. When you have a car that you’ve been through so many repairs, inconveniences, and mishaps with you become attached to it and I think this haiku perfectly captures that. Amanda Handegan, Spring 2022 |
74 feeling all the layers |
75 running away from Marta Viudez Garcia (9) This haiku takes me those scenes in movies where the main character realizes they're not happy in their marriage or job position and just drop everything to go pursue their dreams. Running away makes the poem more urgent, like you must do this now or it will never be able to happen again. The warm feeling in your heart when you're doing something you love is universal. It was like a little hidden gem being at the back of the packet. Emma Antonelli, Spring 2022 I see this in two different ways. The first is making it super literal. I see someone, a young woman (don't know why), and she is running at full sprint. She's running through a very dark and cold place. Tears are streaming down her face but soon, the coldness begins to warm up. The sun, which has been hiding, finally starts to hit her cheeks. A smile starts to form on her face, as she finally breaks through this dark, cold place and into a wide open field. The glowing orange sun high overhead welcomes her to somewhere she's longed for many years. I then feel this in the way mentioned in class about this "place" actually being a person. It's difficult to breathe almost when someone is acknowledging that a person in their life no longer brings them joy. Maybe they've just outgrown each other, but the feeling of being together is not one of benefit. Through the pain, they know that there paths may cross again, but this point in their lives is not the point in which they need each other. Alex Saviano, Spring 2022 |
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All rights returned to authors upon publication.