closing my ears
but still reading his lips
&@#!

Brandy Bockewitz (3)

class reunion:
sadly...
no one has changed

autumn downpour
still
you teach me

Aubrie Cox (3)

we kiss
in high heels and neck ties
for the last time

Fourth and Goal:
he finally shares
the blanket

Sam Sinkhorn (6)

empty stage—
all that remains
of the burned-out theater

roadside cross
no fresh flowers
in months

Melanie McLay (7)

windswept leaves
tremble in his voice--
his brother's funeral date

slowly starts storing
thinking about winter
nut after nut

post-homecoming
I miss his warmth
already

instead of flying home
one red ladybug
chooses a daisy

sharing hot chocolate
the fire...
dies

Sam Sinkhorn (4)

What is interesting about this haiku is the second line and what it could imply. If the couple sharing hot chocolate is sitting by a fire, and the physical fire goes out, it implies that they have been enjoying one another’s company for a very long time—the time has flown. On the other hand, perhaps “the fire” that has died is figurative—perhaps the couple no longer shares romantic feelings, and the romantic attempt at sharing hot cocoa has failed to rekindle anything. Melanie

homecoming
high school girls' dresses
keep getting shorter

on your mother's couch
where you lost yourself...
in me

under the lilac bushes
perfect crooks in the branches
for my tea set

october chill up my legs
I don't look...
in the casket

Aubrie Cox (2)

fall break—
my nights at home
without you

Mark Beanblossom (4)

I remember that feeling, both for friends and boyfriends. It's weird to spend all of your time with people who become like a second family, then to go home to your real family on break and not find them there. I remember the hours spent on instant messenger. Debbie

coming home months later
Dad still forgets
to do the dishes

Sam Sinkhorn (3)

board game closet—
every shelf once filled
now empty

on your skin
cherry blossom fragrance—
home at last

Melanie McLay (5)

Honestly? Kudos to the poet of this haiku. Even though the sakura scent is becoming a bit more common in North America, there's still something exotic about this haiku. I can see it one of two ways. One, the person comes home, from a place foreign to the poet, to the "you," and smells the familiar scent on their body. The other would be that the "you" has returned from somewhere and brought (even if symbolically/metaphorically) a bit of the exoticness with them. Aubrie

hiking the first trail
peanut butter and jelly
smudge his cheek

wobbly log
my face
in the muddy creek bed

Aubrie Cox (6)

This haiku makes me imagine myself taking a walk through a forest. However, because I am such a klutz, I lose my balance and fall into the creek bed. I like this haiku because it says “my face” not myself or my body. This seems ironic and sort of funny. I really enjoy this haiku because of this reason. Also, I enjoy this haiku because the first line sort of sets up the reader. Because the log is “wobbly,” you know that something is going to happen, and it isn’t going to good. Sam

What I enjoy about this haiku is how we can see all the action although none of it is described. We are given the before (wobbly log) and the after (face in the creek bed). But what we see is the action—the author setting onto the log, feeling his feet slip, struggling to stay balanced, and then SPLAT! Falling face first into the creek! Melanie

clear autumn sky
he sends his eldest son back
to God

Aubrie Cox (2)

around the kitchen table
the women talk
about husbands snoring

tiny fish family
in the creek bed
a tree falls over

your driveway
not as long
as I remember it

Mark Beanblossom (3)

That seems to be so much of what memories of places are like—upon seeing them again, the tree is shorter, the field is smaller, the walls not quite so blue... With the mention of driveway, it could be from a lot of different perspectives such as a date, or bike riding, or schoolbusses. But whatever the reason you were there the first time, it's odd how perspective changes. Debbie

home from college
my old neighborhood
twice as big

going home
I pack stale bread
for the chickens

heartbroken teen
on Halloween
bite size wrappers everywhere

the rose garden
overgrown—
grandma’s old house

Melanie McLay (3)

swinging at our old park
my friend and
her daughters

Melanie McLay (6)

I am at the age where stuff like this is starting to happen. Classmates are starting to get married and have children, and classmates that had children earlier now have children big enough to be swinging. The sudden adulthood that sneaks up on people is definitely at the heart of this poem, as is a sense of loss of those old childhood days. The fact the narrator points out that the park used to be theirs shows that the narrator perhaps wishes that things hadn’t changed as much as they had, or at least gone in the direction they did. Mark

in streetlamp glow
dogwalkers pass
sleeping houses

Debbie Myers (2)

Millikin homecoming
even the sky
is blue

screaming girl
shooting around the corner
long-legged rooster

our talk
over the stove—
heated

Melanie McLay (3)

This is one of my favorite haiku. I love the imagery of the talk incorporated with the stove. The word heated could be in reference to the stove or the talk. I like this ambiguity. I can picture a couple having an argument in the kitchen, and it starts to get heated. The atmosphere in the kitchen is also heated maybe because they are cooking. I love how this haiku lends itself to multiple interpretations. Sam

tea light candles
shine through
his Jack-o-lantern smile

cobwebs
near the door
because you couldn't leave me

Sam Sinkhorn (3)

This totally reminds me of "A Rose for Emily." There's some underlying Southern Gothicness in this haiku--the dark decay, a twisted obsession and holding onto things long gone. It's not exactly romantic. We don't know why "you" couldn't leave, but I would be pushed to expect that "you" couldn't leave on your own accord even if you had wanted to; I like. Aubrie

Holy smokes, I love it! A love haiku poem without all the love, but it’s still hidden there. I can picture the corner of the front door with cobwebs, that were maybe growing for several years. I also like the build-up of the haiku. It starts how simple, slowly explaining why the cobwebs are near the door and it ends with a bang. Very nicely done! Brandy

walking onto the football field
during half time
my high heels sink in mud

over the rickety railroad tracks
the half harvest moon
hangs low

thee hours &
one worm later
you made me throw him back

Sam Sinkhorn (5)

grade school playground—
the boys help me look
for my earring

Aubrie Cox (5)

I like the neat image in this one, of an adult woman searching on her hands and knees around a playground with the aid of a group of male children. Boys of this age would not be helping unless they really wanted to, and it’s the eagerness of the boys that really shines through. The narrator may not have even asked them to help out; they may have just done it of their own accord, and there is just a simple humor about this poem that I really respond to. It’s very hometown. Mark

This one is just too cute to pass up. I can see a group of grade school boys helping out their teacher? She lost an earring and the boys think they are so helpful by helping her try to find it. The children will probably talk about their teacher’s missing earring for the rest of the day, because it is so important to them that they were trying to help. Very cute. Brandy

riding home
the smell in our clothes
of grandma's house

Debbie Myers (2)

2 lbs less
and frizzy hair
Salsa

Michelle Dixson (2)

Emergency Room
where you and I
both died

Sam Sinkhorn (4)

chicken eggs
from my Aunt’s hens
looking for spots

down along the railroad tracks
rust lit
by the harvest moon

tying a tie
with the three stooges
no one knows how

Michelle Dixson (3)