Butterfly Dream: Rain Barrel Haiku by Travis Park
-
*English Original*
rain barrel
a cloud settles
into itself
*LEAF*, 10, July 2026
Travis Park
*Chinese Translation (Traditional)*
雨桶
一朵雲沉入
雲層中
*Chinese...
Showing posts with label selected. Show all posts
Showing posts with label selected. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2026
Friday, March 20, 2026
Give me your tired, your poor ...
the Stars and Stripes
in my migrant friend's wrinkled eyes
the spring that once was
American dream
somewhere over the rainbow
detention camps
A group of protesters, mostly gray-haired, gathers at the steps of the Statue of Liberty. They reclaim this public space as a site of memory and denunciation. Helped by her granddaughter, a civil rights activist reads out loud, one by one slowly, the names of the unlawfully disappeared.
Each name is a breath of life , a wound of heart, and most importantly, a warning for the country whose "greatness" will be built on the silence of everyday Americans.
Editor's Choice, Cattails, October 2025
Commentary: Chen-ou Liu is again another artiste who shows us that only in asking will we find the path— that only by daring can we truly reclaim what we have lost. He tells us of a history that is easily forgotten and warns us of what is, and what is in the coming. The prose is stark, focussing on the intergenerational emotion that resonates with freedom. As I read this over and over again, it dawned on me that in writing, Chen-ou dares us too. It is at once a warning and a beseeching. The haiku are placed at the beginning—a necessity to draw our attention to the immediacy of the moment.
FYI: The title refers to the most famous inscription on the Statue of Liberty, "The New Colossus," a sonnet by Emma Lazarus.
Sunday, November 23, 2025
Saturday, November 22, 2025
Friday, February 7, 2025
Two Haiku Included in Haiku 21.2
Two of my haiku below are included in Haiku 21.2, a new anthology that presents examples of the best haiku being written in the second decade of the 21st century as Haiku 21 presented the first. It is edited by Lee Gurga and Scott Metz and published by Modern Haiku Press.
I
remarried
the taste of pinot noir
left open overnight
Frogpond, 40:3, Fall 2017
And my free verse below could be read as its prequel:
Pickled Sorrow
I slice my sorrow,
pickle the cutlets,
and closet them in a jar.
When hungry,
I'll have a slice
with pinot noir.
II
a white lie
to cover another
early snowfall
Failed Haiku, 5:58, October 2020
jar of rain: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2020
Haiku 2021
Commentary: Like the falling snow, white lies are pleasing to the senses, but too much of each may do more harm than good. This deceptively simple haiku seems like a cautionary tale, reminding readers to watch their words, even if well intended... review of jar of rain by Joanne Morcom
And my haiku below could be read as its prequel:
FYI: Haiku 21: an anthology of contemporary English-language haiku is the Winner of the “Best Anthology” award from the Haiku Society of America and the Haiku Foundation Touchstone Award.
Saturday, December 21, 2024
Indian Summer Haiku
this muscle memory
of my son flying high
Indian summer
Selected Haiku, Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum English Haiku Contest
Friday, December 20, 2024
Slow Dance Haiku
a slow dance
in the light of dawn
first snowflakes
Selected Haiku, Yamadera Basho Memorial Museum English Haiku Contest
Sunday, September 1, 2024
Rain Chain Haiku
Zen garden
a rain chain drips
droplets of light
Selected Haiku, Paint Me: 2024 New Zealand Poetry Society Haiku Contest Anthology
Sunday, June 2, 2024
Childhood River Haiku
childhood river
the light of fireflies dim
... and dimmer
Romanian Translation by Editor Steliana Cristina Voicu
râul copilăriei
lumina licuricilor slăbește
…și mai slabă
Commentary by Editor Steliana Cristina Voicu
The childhood house is a gem for many of us, the most beautiful thing in the world and when we grow up, this gem turns into diamond, we compare everything with it… how mother cooked that pudding, how grandpa took care of the basil and so on… The childhood river is shine and brightful like fireflies, but these fireflies dim… and dimmer, this picture is so beautiful, yet poisonous. Why the fireflies light dim? Maybe because the boat moves away from the shore (we have that info by the ”river” keyword). As the author moves away from his birthplace, the glimmers are more and more pale. In the same way, as we become adults, we leave, we move, and the birthplace becomes a memory. How many of us are lucky enough to stay in the place where they were born and raised? Most of them go to another city or even abroad. Fireflies are the expression of the simple things in life, those which matter the most. The childhood is a river for the author, which means a flowing water, which can be associated with the thread of life that carries the author through all the places where he grew up or lived at a given time.
Romanian Commentary:
Casa copilăriei este o bijuterie pentru mulți dintre noi, cel mai frumos lucru din lume și când creștem, această bijuterie se transformă în diamant, comparăm totul cu ea... cum gătea mama acea budincă, cum avea bunicul grijă de busuioc și așa mai departe... Râul din copilărie strălucește și strălucește ca licuricii, dar acești licuricii se estompează... această imagine este atât de frumoasă, dar de o frumusețe care doare. De ce lumina licuricilor este slabă? Poate pentru că barca se îndepărtează de țărm (avem această informație prin cuvântul cheie „râu”). Pe măsură ce autorul se îndepărtează de locul său natal, licăririle sunt din ce în ce mai palide. La fel, pe măsură ce devenim adulți, plecăm de acasă, ne mutăm, iar locul de naștere devine o amintire. Câți dintre noi avem norocul să rămână în locul în care ne-am născut și am crescut? Majoritatea merge în alt oraș sau chiar în străinătate. Licuricii sunt expresia lucrurilor simple din viață, cele care contează cel mai mult. Copilăria este un râu pentru autor, adică o apă curgătoare, ceea ce poate fi asociat cu firul vieții care îl poartă pe autor prin toate locurile în care a crescut sau a trăit la un moment dat.
FYI: This haiku could be read as a sequel to the following:
floating world ...
this childhood river
of summer stars
Chen-ou Liu
And the following haiku could be read as its sequel:
night of fireflies ...
all that remains
of our on-off love
Chen-ou Liu
Sunday, April 28, 2024
Eviction Notice Haiku
eviction notice ...
roof icicles
dripping moonlight
Saturday, April 27, 2024
Tuesday, March 19, 2024
First Love Haiku
drift of blossoms
for a moment grandma recalls
her first love
Monday, March 18, 2024
Class Haiku
first snowfall ...
my black-haired son in a class
of twenty-five blonds
Saturday, December 9, 2023
Independence
"Dear Chen-ou, I hope this email finds you well. Share with you my family photo, which was taken this glorious morning."
In the photo, my friend, his wife and two daughters, wrapping themselves in the flags of blue and yellow, stand with arms linked before a row of rusty Russian tanks on Liberation Square.
My friend used to be a Surrealist poet, known for his purposeful use of "obscure and unwieldy verbiage." He sent me the following poem at the end of his lengthy and furious email a week after the Russian invasion.
in smoky twilight
the head of I cut off
the roof of M falling through --
I paint poetry with screams,
the last phase of lyricism
His emails now are short and straight to the point, and often attached with photos to speak for his mood or state of mind, like the one he sent me today. Under his family photo, there is a caption that reads:
If Russia stops fighting, there will be no more war.
If Ukraine stops fighting, there will be no more us.
no man's land
between barbed wire fences
the kraa-kraa-kraa
of ravens scratching
at the soldiers' hearts
Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023
FYI: "Independence," was nominated by the Tanka Society of America for the Pushcart Press Competition.
Labels:
deaths,
poetry,
Ribbons,
selected,
sociopolitic,
tanka,
tanka prose,
war,
writing
Sunday, October 29, 2023
Pushcart Prize Nomination by the Tanka Society of America
My Dear Friends:
I'm happy to share with you this exciting news: my tanka prose, "Independence," nominated by the Tanka Society of America for the Pushcart Press Competition.
Independence
"Dear Chen-ou, I hope this email finds you well. Share with you my family photo, which was taken this glorious morning."
In the photo, my friend, his wife and two daughters, wrapping themselves in the flags of blue and yellow, stand with arms linked before a row of rusty Russian tanks on Liberation Square.
My friend used to be a Surrealist poet, known for his purposeful use of "obscure and unwieldy verbiage." He sent me the following poem at the end of his lengthy and furious email a week after the Russian invasion.
in smoky twilight
the head of I cut off
the roof of M falling through --
I paint poetry with screams,
the last phase of lyricism
His emails now are short and straight to the point, and often attached with photos to speak for his mood or state of mind, like the one he sent me today. Under his family photo, there is a caption that reads:
If Russia stops fighting, there will be no more war.
If Ukraine stops fighting, there will be no more us.
no man's land
between barbed wire fences
the kraa-kraa-kraa
of ravens scratching
at the soldiers' hearts
Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023
This poem was inspired by both the Ukrainian resistance and Seamus Heaney's remark on poetry:
In a war situation or where violence and injustice are prevalent, poetry is called upon to be something more than a thing of beauty.
Many thanks for your continued support of my writing.
Chen-ou
FYI: Ls 4&5 of the first tanka allude to the following remark:
Miles away from poetry, we still participate in it by that sudden need to scream—the last stage of lyricism.
-- Romanian philosopher and essayist Emil Cioran, whose work has been known for its pervasive philosophical pessimism, style, and aphorisms
And "The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America - including Highest Honors from the American Academy of Arts and Letters."
Saturday, November 26, 2022
Ebb and Flow Haiku
ebb and flow
of Pacific waves ...
years in exile
International Haiku Plaquette Project, November 2022
Chinese Translation
太平洋
的海浪潮起潮落…
流放多年
Spanish Translation by Jorge Alberto Giallorenzi
flujo y reflujo
de las olas del pacífico
años en el exilio
Sunday, October 30, 2022
Friday, June 3, 2022
Length of A Dream Haiku
borderwallborderwallborderwall... the length of a dream
Whiptail Nominee for the Haiku Foundation Touchstone Awards for Individual Poems
Wednesday, November 10, 2021
Ghost Town Haiku
rusty staples
on the bulletin board
a ghost town
Selected Haiku, Kissing A Ghost: 2021 NZPS Poetry Contest Anthology
Wednesday, April 28, 2021
Sleets of Moonlight Tanka
dust motes
adrift in the sleets
of moonlight
my father slips in
and out of himself
adrift in the sleets
of moonlight
my father slips in
and out of himself
Selected Tanka, Gusts, Fall/Winter 2020
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