Haiku Kukai 02 Favorites
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2020
1 fireworks Binny Tamang ••• This haiku made me think of two things. First, the smokey alley behind my house where my neighbors shoot off fireworks on the Fourth of July. Second, the musical In The Heights. The combination of both creates a sparking, tension-filled atmosphere where there are so many emotions—jubilation, excitement, love—and a lot of questions too. Maybe one person is staring at another, watching a sparkler illuminate their face, and thinking through everything that the person has made them feel. Love and happiness, yes, but maybe pain and tears too. But in the smoke-filled air, everything is obscured just a bit and it is difficult to determine which of those feelings is most prominent at the time. The colors I see when reading this haiku are bright, yet muted from smoke—red, teal, a flash of yellow. Warm, but uncertain at the same time. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 I was taken to the Fourth of July this year while reading this haiku. I celebrated it with my boyfriend and his friends and family for the first time and it was incredible. I remembered the heat of the day, the lights in the air and the general sense of happiness of that time. That day was both the best day and the scariest day for me. Something pretty bad happened to a close friend of my boyfriends that night, and I thought back to the hours leading up to us finding out and the joy and the feeling that nothing bad could happen. So, this haiku really brought back a lot of different feelings and senses for me. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 |
2 wood burning stove Maggie Kusar • |
3 soft sand Maggie Kusar •• |
4 scraped hands Maggie Kusar • |
5 silent room |
6 my mother cries Sadie Scott • My mom hardly ever cries, so normally when she does, I do too. Sometimes I understand why she's crying, the death of a family member, she's proud of something we've done, but other times I have no clue why I would feel compelled to cry with her. A few years ago one of her very close friends from high school and college passed away. She got the news scrolling through facebook on a random afternoon and I was the only other one home. I went to comfort her and ended up crying myself. I think that of all people we have connections with, most people's connections with their mother is the closest to empathic, and I like how clearly the author caught moments like that in this haiku. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
7 playing spider-man Sadie Scott ••••• I like this haiku because I found it funny at first. It represents to me the inquisitive stage of childhood where children try to do everything they see on television or in their immediate surroundings. It also reminded me of how observant kids really are, even though they might not fully understand what they see. I was also thinking along the lines that children learn things so quickly, and how they are susceptible to both good and bad habits. This haiku also made me delve on a specific point about how, in general, when a kid does something awful out of ignorance, it is easy to forgive them from a third-person perspective but someone who's fallen victim might not take it gently. Anyway, my thought at last: it seems hard to raise kids. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 I picture two young kids who play together regularly, neighbors. They have to stay close to their houses, but they sit on the grass and they figure out who they're going to pretend to be that day. Yesterday, it was the prince and Cinderella. The day before that, it was Superman and Wonder woman. Today, it's Spider Man and Mary Jane. The little boy sprawls upside down on the stoop after he saves his friend, and then they share a childish kiss, just like the scene in the movie because it was cool, an upside-down kiss. But they're children, and he still doesn't understand why kissing is so important. I love the innocence that comes with this haiku, the childishness that makes it hard to understand why those older than us do what they do because all we're concerned with is making friends and playing pretend. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
8 I want to take scissors Sadie Scott •••• This haiku made me think about people who've ever had body image issues. It also made me a bit sad. I know the issue is real because as a person with short stature, I have at many times thought how much I would like to grow some inches more. Life would be more convenient. But I also feel like my stature does not define me and is not significant enough to spend my time contemplating things I can't change. However, I would gladly accept a deal from God that'd make me taller, and that's why I like this haiku. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 This haiku has a very melancholic tone to it. I can picture someone sitting in front of a mirror, overcome by emotions. They bring a pair of scissors to their hair, hesitating for only a moment before cutting it off. One small cut becomes several large ones in the span of seconds, hair gliding to the tile. Interestingly, I struggle to put a name to exactly what the writer is feeling. I think this is one of those pieces that give you a small part of the story like a puzzle piece. Having that half of a whole is what makes this piece so interesting to read because it is impossible to just look at it. It is like I feel it. All the emotions are conveyed to the reader in such a way that I almost feel that I am in that scene I imagined. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
9 light scatters |
10 homesick Rebecca Murphy ••••• ••••• 10 (1st place) This haiku reminds me of friendly banter between a couple who's just gone long distance. They're strong enough to know that they can joke about not missing each other, but also know that there's nowhere they would rather be than with each other. I imagine hearing this over a bad phone connection with my girlfriend, followed immediately by us laughing. Despite the apparently sad first line, the tone of the haiku overall is joking and somewhat sarcastic. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 As I've moved off to college, one thing that I've noticed is how much pets have brought into my life. Having to leave our dog in “dog day-care” essentially, she was absent around the time I was moving. Receiving occasional pictures and videos from parents is a lovely treat, but it only stresses the point - gosh darn it, I miss my pets. When discussing this haiku in class, one classmate mentioned that we're able to call/facetime our family members - not so much with our pets. So yes, I do absolutely miss my dog. But getting to see her again after all this time will make it all the more sweeter when I do. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
11 j'aime Rebecca Murphy ••••• ••• 8 (3rd place tie) This one is wonderful. It is very simple, yet very effective. With just 6 words, and 4 of those in French, this haiku is able to evoke a variety of emotions. As it starts in french, and by saying that “I love", one can easily imagine that this is going to be a haiku about a romance, maybe. However, the last line pulls us out of that reality and takes us to the actual reality. It indeed is a romance, but a romance with themselves. They are not walking about how they love being with someone. They're talking about how they don't miss that person, at all. I think that is wonderful. Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 This haiku immediately stuck out because of the different language used. At the time of reading this I was talking to my boyfriend who took French in high school, so I asked him what it meant, and he translated it for me. After he read it, I was infatuated with this haiku because it sounded so pretty in this love language, but then he translated it and I laughed. This twist was hidden in plain sight and I loved the feeling it expressed as if it was being said to someone like me who does not know French in the middle of a fight between two ex-lovers. The one who doesn't know what it means stops and thinks it is a compliment, but then it gets explained and is a dramatic moment. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 I don't speak French. I just know that French is a romance language and is sometimes referred to as the language of love. So before translating the French, I thought this was about some sort of breakup or past relationship. I thought it read something like, “My life is sad without you” or something. But it turns out that “j'aime ma vie” means “I love my life,” so the poem reads, “I love my life without you,” which is very much the opposite of what I thought it meant. I think that's one of the reasons that I like this haiku is because it goes against expectations. I also like it because of the language shift, which I also feels like doubles as the transition point between the two images that are juxtaposed. And it's a happy haiku. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
12 tap dancing on a Mara Currens • |
13 Winnie the Pooh blanket Rebecca Murphy ••• There's not a lot of reasons I like this one, but it really reminds me of my childhood, as I loved Winnie the Pooh. I had bed sheets, notebooks, pencils, books; I just really enjoyed it. That's it, that's my reason for writing this response. (Disclaimer: at that stage of my life I liked Bob the Builder as much as I liked Winnie Pooh (just wanted to make this disclaimer so Bob didn't feel bad)) Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 I imagined two young boys sitting completely bored in their room upstairs when they get the genius idea to try something out. The oldest, of course, goes to the bottom of the stairs to direct the younger child what to do. He starts by saying to go back and grab a blanket, which coincidentally is the younger child's favorite Winnie the Pooh blanket. He wraps himself as tightly as possible, and when he feels the comfort from the familiar feel and aroma wash over him, he vaults himself down the stairs. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
14 the dog is panting in the shade
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15 soup made of grass, mud, Mara Currens ••••• •••• (9) second place This haiku reminds me of when I was young, and I would play outside with whatever I could find. I was never terribly original as a child, so I would act out the things I read about or saw in movies or on TV. While I don't think I ever made a “potion” out of rocks and dirt and flowers, I definitely pretended to be a little witch, and told everyone that's what I was. This haiku really gets me in the nostalgia-bone, because even though it's probably in third person, it's not at all demeaning to the kid playing the witch; it's more just playful, like they're playing along with them. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 I love how universal a theme it is to be out in nature as a child and find joy in such simple things. I miss being able to truly believe something as small as grass and dirt could be something wonderful beyond anyone else's comprehension. I miss being able to suspend my disbelief that grass was more than grass and mud more than mud. I love the simple themes of innocence and nature. It's a breath of fresh air. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 |
16 candy store Sydney Griggs ••• I really like this haiku. I think it represents the purest form of love. The love between a child and a mother. I imagine a little kid who's probably done something that her mother is proud of. Maybe a perfect score on a test or learned how to tie her own shoelaces. And as an incentive, the mother is taking the child to a candy store to get her favorite chocolate bar. The kid is happy and the mother more so because of what the little kid has achieved in her short life. It's a start, and I feel that's why the mother was smiling. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 This haiku really stuck in my mind. I really like the imagery and juxtaposition typical of haiku, but this one left me with a really warm feeling. A parent deciding to indulge their child and get them a little something from a local candy shop. But as the adage goes, “it's the thought that counts.” It reminded me of the rare treats my parents would get me, whether that would be a new toy or game - but what really stuck with me after the “new thing” factor wore off was how kind and sweet my parents were. It didn't happen often, but this haiku reminded me of when it did, and how those positive memories brighten the day. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020
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17 best friends Stark Winter •• |
18 circled mushrooms Stark Winter ••• I played softball as a kid, and I was always put at the edge of the field, near the grass. Instead of paying attention to the game, I would always stare at (or sometimes try to pick) the flowers and weeds. This haiku definitely brought me back to that, and also gave me a sense of a field that somehow has magic imbued into it, whether by unseen forces or by the things that have happened there. Mushrooms always give me a sense of mystery and softness, and “circled mushrooms" make it seem like they were somehow made that way on purpose. This haiku makes me picture muted blues and greens of nature and the mysterious gray of fog or mist that is associated with hidden magic. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 I found it almost more than coincidental when I read this haiku, because I saw this exact same thing on my town's soccer fields over this past summer. Two of my close friends and I were cruising around the town and we decided to go around the park loop once. When we passed the soccer fields, I had spent my entire life playing on, I slowed down after noticing vague shapes a distance away. We pulled over to check it out, and sure enough it was a perfect circle of mushrooms in the middle of a field. The first thing any of us said was that it must be fairies. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
19 little creatures Stark Winter ••••• • The creek, when I was little, was my favorite place to play. It was always a fairy wonderland that I inhabited, my little house on a rock near the waterline. The frogs, tadpoles, and caterpillars were my friends, and so they needed homes too. I would pick them up and give them a home of leaves, sticks, and a water pond in a shoebox until Mom called me in for dinner and persuaded me to let them go. This haiku perfectly captures the innocence of that exploration of the world, the worlds simplistic and childlike: “little” “living” and “borrowed for a while”. That's not to say that its simplicity makes it bad. The opposite! Often, we (me) are bogged down by superfluous language and gargantuan words (lol) and it's better just to state plainly what you feel. Simple is not as easy as one would think. To capture that moment takes skill. The haiku transported me back right away to those moments in my childhood. It smells of spring and Easter Sunday, muddy feet, and a clean white dress. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
20 grade seven Sydney Griggs ••••• This is the first poem I'm going to receive negatively. I'm not going to spin in positively. I grew up too fast. And it's sad. I want to find the good in it by saying I learned something, but there's nothing redeeming in those lessons. I was far too young to experience the things I did in middle school. And that is sad. So many lessons I shouldn't have learned yet. I was forced to. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 The summer between seventh and eighth grade is the year that I became a Christian. When I close my eyes and think about this poem, I am taken back to all of the late-night conversations and discussions with friends that all eventually led to that. I don't want to get super specific, but there were several challenges in my life around that time that no seventh grader should have to go through. Looking back now, I can say that my life would never be anywhere near what it is now, but I am very happy with how things turned out. Without going through those challenges, I don't think I would have found my faith. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 |
21 moving in a panedmic Nicole Dadoly ••••• So clearly this poem is referring to the whole coronavirus debacle and how that affects moving. I get that normally, if you're moving, you've got a bunch of heavy stuff and you want help carrying it, but nowadays with COVID-19 alive and well, you're not going to want moving people that you've never met before touching your stuff (however nice they may be). Honestly, though, this is me even when there's not a pandemic. Whenever I'm packing for college or for camp, my parents are always like, “sweetie, is there anything we can do to help you?” because they know that I take a while to pack but that I also leave things for the last minute. The reason for these two things is because I like to organize things when I pack (for example: pack all my clothes together, all my toiletries together, all my linens together, all my books together, all my food together, etc.). So normally, much to their dismay, my answer to my parents is, “Nope, I'll do it, please don't move/touch anything yet.” So, I guess I like this haiku because it reminded me of myself. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 This poem was so interesting to me. It made me think about that episode in Friends when they're all working together to move the couch up the stairs. I can't imagine moving without physical help from others; it is usually such a communal experience. I really liked the last line in this poem (“I'll do it"). It seemed to me like this person was separating themselves due to a want to keep another safe. Like it was an act of love. That is so counterintuitive to me though. Usually it is an act of love to help someone out while moving, not the opposite. I thought this poem was a great image and observation overall. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
22 growing pains Sydney Griggs ••••• •• I have body dysmorphia and this poem really speaks to me on this level of immaturity. Having the belief that my skin doesn't fit me is foolish. Skin is meant to move and stretch with you. It's nearly impossible for it not to fit. And yet, I'm unhappy in mine. I want to trade it. I want to return it. It's too small, it's too big. It's a pain to grow up feeling this way. It's a shame to see the beautiful models that are older than me and feeling ashamed for not looking like them when I haven't even hit puberty. Growing up is so painful when you don't feel comfortable existing as you are. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 To me, this poem represents trying to grow up to be comfortable with who you are and how you look. I have been working on myself a lot over quarantine trying to emotionally develop myself into the person that I want to be. I also think it can be taken to a little bit deeper level of growing your true self into the person that you've put on display for everyone else, or rather you're trying to turn the façade into an image of who you really are. As people, we try to make everyone see the best version of ourselves, but do I want to become that persona or do I want that persona to become a real representation of me? Growing pains in this sense could maybe have to do with losing friends or attributes that are attached to the person you once were. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 |
23 like bungee cords Nicole Dadoly ••••• |
24 creak and crack Nicole Dadoly • |
25 grilled cheese and chlorine |
26 open safe Micky McNaughton • I find the usage of the word "safe" in this haiku particularly eye-catching. Each time I read this piece, I bring forward a different interpretation of the word. At first, I thought that the writer was implying that they felt safe in someone else's arms. Then, I thought that the writer might be using an open safe as a metaphor for them opening up about old feelings, memories, or events that they had previously locked away. Despite me wavering between these different interpretations, this haiku just leaves me feeling warm or as the author says, “safe." Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
27 *cheep cheep cheep* Micky McNaughton ••••• • |
28 football with dad . . . |
29 Hey sunshine! Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •• |
30 Roo and Lumpy |
31 grandma's orchids Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez ••• |
32 I open the fridge Bryn Sentnor • |
33 naked on the floor Bryn Sentnor ••• |
34 pokemon and chalk Gwen Klinkey •• |
35 one call Gwen Klinkey • |
36 personified trains Kyle Jordan • |
37 kindergarten floor Kyle Jordan • I think this haiku is just so fun. Most university students especially can relate to it. The burden and stress that comes with classes often has us wishing for a break. Ironically, when I was younger I despised naptime but now I want to nap every few hours. That contrast between then and now, old and new, is what makes this haiku so entertaining and enjoyable. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 |
38 mirror mirror Kyle Jordan ••••• ••• 8 (3rd place tie) I read this haiku in class because I felt like it was such a beautiful turn on the fairytale we know so well. It left me reflecting on the original fairytale as well as the haiku. When thinking about the fairytale, the mirror is this omniscient entity that knows who the fairest is, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. How could it decide who is the fairest? Also, the last line of the haiku is a question. It asks if I like what I see, which isn't confident, but it also isn't inherently negative. It made me think about the moments looking at a mirror and not knowing if I like my outfit or makeup or the way I look in that moment. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 When reading this haiku, one thing that stuck out to me was the underlying messages of body dysphoria that were woven in. I've read and heard accounts from transgender people stating how disconnecting it can feel to see an image of yourself that is supposedly you, yet varies drastically from how you feel within. Those moments of questioning and even disagreeing with how we feel or look like can be moments we don't enjoy having, but I'm sure that almost everyone has had at least one. I can't even begin to imagine how mentally draining and painful that dysphoria can be for some people, and having those thoughts can be frequent, but the affirmations in one's self that result from those moments of pause can really help strengthen how you feel about yourself. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
39 a baby Gwen Klinkey ••• I knew this was Gwen's haiku right out of the gate because never before have I met someone with a passion for the English language and writing the level of hers. She crafted this haiku superbly, playing on the inversion of language we often get confused over. When hearing her response, I instantly remembered my past summer of nannying, practically buried in barbies from my nanny girl. Emlyn loves barbies. As the third girl, she has maybe thirty of them. Yet each of them has a personality, living space, and baby of their own. Every single one has a child and a pet and a job. They are all single mothers that turn to me to nanny their children when they all go to their separate jobs. Many a time would I be making boxed mac and cheese and carrot plates with thirty-ish little barbie babies staring back at me. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
40 snow white coat |
41 life rearranged Danica Brezovar •• |
42 library corner Danica Brezovar •••• I love books. When I was younger, I was a very avid reader. I still enjoy leisure reading now, but I don't have that much time for it anymore. As a kid, though, I went to my public library a lot. I remember doing their summer reading sheet as a kid, where if you read a certain number of books or read for a certain amount of time, you would get cool prizes (I even got a book to keep). And I remember going to the library or to a bookstore and not really knowing exactly what I wanted to read, but scanning the shelves for things that looked interesting, picking them up, reading the cover flap or the back cover or the first few pages, and I would do this for hours and still feel like I could spend more time there. This haiku makes me imagine myself in the teen/kid's section of the library, in a little corner amongst all the bookshelves, sitting in a giant beanbag chair reading a good book. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
43 shielding Danica Brezovar ••• This haiku hit me hard. It reminded me that I'm not alone in biting and picking at my nails when I'm nervous. Whenever I can, I have my nails painted, but they don't stay that way for long because I end up getting nervous and peeling it off as soon as it's loose enough. The clear nail polish can't even stop me sometimes. If you're nervous enough, you can chew through the bitter chemical coat covering your nails. That clear barrier can only do so much against that wave of anxiety. Reading this, I taste the bitterness and I feel the strange looks from friends and family as their comments about the bad habit do nothing to soothe me. So I taste the polish. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 When I was in my junior year of high school my nails started literally falling apart because I was so stressed and anxious. Layers of my nail would flake off during classes even if I wasn't picking at them. I thought that putting on nail polish would at least cover it up, but really the nail polish just came off along with the nail. I guess that's kind of like using a temporary solution for anxiety, it doesn't really do anything, sometimes it just emphasises the problem. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
44 nervous pacing Emily Kemp ••• |
45 night ride Emily Kemp •• |
46 why is naptime Grant Unruh •• |
47 riding bicycles |
48 waves rising Gage Whittington • |
49 red lights on Gage Whittington •••• As an audio engineer, I instantly loved this one because I imagined the red light that comes on in a studio when someone is recording and the wave of ones and zeroes that convert from analog to digital audio during that process. I imagined the scene from Wargames where thye show the ones and zeroes flood the screen on the old computer and that vintage feel gives a classic vibe to the haiku. I love how nerdy this haiku makes me feel. I could talk about audio and things like this all day and it made me really happy to see someone other than me know about these aspects of audio. Nicole Dadoly, Fall 2020 |
50 jail cell Sydney Griggs ••••• |
51 puffy eyes Bryn Sentnor ••• As someone who is currently going through heartbreak, this haiku lingered with me. The shortness of each line helps the reader feel the shortness of breath after having a really good, hard cry like one would have after a breakup of some sort. The word puffy feels perfect for this because even though the eyes are being focused on, the person crying feels somewhat ‘puffy' from just insecurity and wanting to hide after releasing the pain from a cry like that. Almost in a “heart is swollen” kind of way. I also love how sad music really hits the best when you're sad. Nobody understands you more than a sad song while you're crying. Nicole Dadoly, Fall 2020 I like this haiku because I think we can all relate to this feeling of despair at the end of a relationship or friendship. This just captures the sheer turmoil where you feel like your life is spiraling downward. Everyone knows the feeling of laying on your bed and staring at your ceiling and listening to sad music. This haiku feels like gray skies and thunderstorms to me. The last line just feels so final and complete. “It's over” is such a clean break and also makes it feel like there is no coming back from that. The story is over, there won't be a sequel. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 |
52 oh well Sadie Scott •• THIS one really hit me hard because the heartbreak that I am currently going through is actually because of the whole “we accept the love we think we deserve” idea and my guy let me go because of the fact that he thinks I deserve “better” when all I want is him. He has been my best friend since we were 10 and so we have been through a lot together and I know him better than anybody but that he also knows me better than anybody and I can tell that he is struggling with a lot of things right now so all I want to do is call him and see how he is doing but because he has a girlfriend, there is nothing that I can do. Especially because she is not a fan of me. So calling him would be a very bad idea, and yet, that is all I can think about doing. Nicole Dadoly, Fall 2020 |
53 snail shells Stark Winter • |
54 the flowers Gwen Klinkey ••• I love this haiku, and I don't really know why. I love plants and often pick flowers and press them into picture frames or scrapbooks or just make a wildflower bouquet. On my first date with my current boyfriend, I was so nervous that when we were walking, I habitually starting picking all the different wildflowers I could see. At the end of the path, I tied them all together with a blade of grass and gave them to him as a present. He kept them on his bedroom window by his bed until they withered away, crumpled, and brown. I don't know why this memory relates to this haiku so strongly, but it does in my mind. I only have to wonder what the author meant by being damned by the flowers they picked. I get slight Red Riding Hood vibes from the haiku, darkness behind the fluttering steams of wildflowers dotting the horizon. Mara Currens, Fall 2020 |
55 I love to walk in mazes Sadie Scott ••••• I like this one because I really feel and share the gift of not being very patient with stuff I'm doing. Even though I love mazes, these mazes mentioned in the poem could be the things I try to do and abandon shortly after having started them. If I feel that it really isn't flowing, I start getting stressed out, so this haiku really represents a part of myself. Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 |
56 Olive Garden picnic Gwen Klinkey • I thought this poem was so cool. Olive Garden is most definitely manufactured. I never even imagine it in picnic form, but I can certainly imagine now that it wouldn't feel quite right. Usually you bring healthy, natural food to a picnic. Apples, water, turkey sandwiches. I like the image of, when that kind of food is replaced, natural things all around you will turn unnatural too. That seems kind of trippy to me. Upside down. Capitalism taking over like gangrene. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
57 a woodchuck chucks wood Micky McNaughton •••• I don't have a very deep reason for liking this one, it just kind of tickled me. I picture this as something that gets said when you stay up way too late with some friends and you're all just out of your minds and not making any sense. Of course you'll regret staying up that late the next day because you have to wake up for class, but it's just so fun and everything is funny and you don't want to let that feeling go too fast. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 This haiku took me by surprise because it made me outright laugh. It was just such an abrupt transition from what is expected of woodchucks, which is chucking wood, to a truly comedic image of that wood replaced with flying tomatoes. Then the last line is said with almost a smirk, I could imagine listening to someone say the first two lines only to turn around and produce the most ridiculous smile on their faces to lowly mutter “upon availability." How ridiculous would it be to look up into the sky and see tomatoes flying in the sky towards your face. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
58 Shakespearean sonnets Mara Currens ••••• The beauty in this haiku brings me so much joy. I see a child writing a story that they are about to give their babysitter. They are on the floor scribbling fast and they know exactly what they mean. There are a few flowers drawn to make it fancy. When they hand over their masterpiece, I see the babysitter's delight and fear that they'll be asked to read it out loud. I feel the wax of the crayon on my fingers and the same fear I used to feel when looking at lines of Shakespeare to be read out loud for the first time. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 This poem was intriguing to me. I like that only she can read the sonnets. I wonder who she is. Is she really the only one who can read the sonnets or is she the only person who is able to understand their meaning? Are they love sonnets? Are they sonnets she wrote to herself? I like that last one. Maybe it's a secret note she wrote to her older self when she was younger, in crayon. Maybe she's just finding them now, remembering old thoughts only she had. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
59 talk talk talking Sophia Zinger •• |
60 tag gone wrong Sophia Zinger • When I was about 5 or 6, I stepped on a nest of ground bees while playing with my friend Paige in my backyard. They were suddenly everywhere, swarming around us, I remember that it looked like a cloud of buzzing fury. The next thing I remember, my mom is removing all the stingers in our bathtub, with me crying wildly. This haiku is of course a mirrored experience to that one (I can't imagine the pain that came with hornets), and it strikes me as a better explanation than I've ever had for my experience. the second line has a lot of action, and it almost feels like the narrator has been removed from their body at that point, and is really looking in on themselves. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 |
61 I'll make a quick trip Nicole Dadoly •• |
62 high ceiling |
63 lipstick tissues Maggie Kusar • My sister and I did competitive dance for a long time which meant that we had to use makeup from a very young age. My sister always liked to wear it more than I did. The one thing she hated was lipstick, especially red. Naturally, then, it's my favorite. Any lipstick she didn't want anymore, goes to me. I love a good bold, dark red and over the years, I accumulated too many. When you organize makeup, you test it to see if it's good anymore and oh boy did I have a good many to test this summer. Among the many reds was a purplish lipstick, a black lipstick, and one lone neon glittery pink from my sister. Reading this poem, I felt this moment — my skin a little tingly with the feel of old makeup that I probably shouldn't keep. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
© 2020, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.