THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 10th July 2025. Lorraine Haig - Guest Poet
- Kala Ramesh

- Jul 10
- 2 min read
host: Rupa Anand
mentor: Lorraine Haig editors on haikuKATHA: Shalini Pattabiraman, Vidya Shankar, Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh
Guest Poet: Lorraine Haig
A Thursday Feature
10th July 2025
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT BELOW
THE HAIBUN GALLERY July 2025: Lorraine Haig
Prompt
Week 2.
Masks
“She kept the mask, not knowing
what to do with it.”
These are the first two lines from a poem, titled “The Mask” by Lorna Crozier in her poetry book, The Wrong Cat, Published by McClelland and Stewart, 2015.
In part The Collins Australian Concise Dictionary says, a mask is any covering for the whole or part of the face worn for amusement, protection disguise etc.
Let’s take it further. What does a mask mean to you?
Is it the mask you apply before you leave the house each morning?
Use these two lines as a jump-off point to write a haibun about masks.
<>
Thanks a lot, Lorraine.
This prompt is very interesting! Looking forward to this month.
Thank you so much.
_kala
******
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT NOTICE
NOTICE
Dear Haibuneers
Starting from March 2025, we at haikuKATHA are moving on to a new submissions format for haibun submissions. (Only for haibun, please note!)
Writers are invited to submit one unpublished haibun per submission window.
Kindly note the submissions calendar.
1-20 March, to be considered for publication in May
1-20 June, to be considered for publication in August
1-20 September, to be considered for publication in November
1-20 December, to be considered for publication in February
All accepted submissions will receive an email to confirm their acceptance by the 5th day of the publication month.
Your unpublished (only one) haibun should be sent to:
The Google link will be given in this space soon. This form will open only during the submission period.
********
The Haibun Gallery continues as is.
We will be having editors and prompts, and your sharing…

Post #1
12.7.25
In the dark
Today I am missing my father. In his life he never overtly professed his love for us. We always kept vying for his undivided attention.
Intending to divert my mind, I decide to embark on some decluttering. There is a trunk full of old books in my attic. Opening the old rusted tin trunk is a task. In there are my children’s school books , some old magazines and a few of my novels. I carefully take them out and dust them. Lying there beneath the layers of dust is a brown leather bound diary. It has dad’s name embossed on it. Time has left its mark on it. The cover is peeling all…
2nd gembun
by the order of ...
colours a' plenty
and a multitude of styles
covid left its mark
Dinah Power, Israel
comments welcomed
11/7/25 #1
Rice on the Floor
chalk outline
floating in summer heat
too faint to fill
The dunnock sings from the tangle of hazel, mid-afternoon; past morning, not yet dusk. I pause, listening. There’s something in the song that unsettles, off-key and familiar. Certain tones stir what lies beneath. I’ve learned not to answer too soon.
Childhood taught me camouflage. The sting of being called "too much." "difficult." "different." A dinner plate set down with enough force to jolt the food. Long silences, sharp voices, and the dim knowing that I wasn’t meant to be there — that something, though unspoken, had already gone wrong.
I picked up the skill without knowing its name: how to tune myself to the…
#2
Who’s here today?
There is the class clown, the beauty queen, the workplace bully, the doting grandparent, the laughing baby, the life of the party, the catwalk model, the dress-down guest, the corporate lawyer, the self-employed gardener, the stay at home self, the workplace persona, the dreamer’s friend. Shake them all together. Aren’t we all a little of each? Cosmos platter, the luminosity of a slice.
stardust
shaking the night
through our bones
Joanna Ashwell
UK
Feedback welcome
At a Stretch
They can be whatever they want to be. Paper, crayons, scissors, elastic. She supplies the four essential ingredients in her spell for the magic. Demonstrates by rubbing a mixture on one for herself . Sickly green with a hook-shaped nose. But naughty Nigel climbs on a chair and snips between the ears
playgroup leader
cheeks smeared with tears
for the child they took