THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 16th October 2025. Joanna Ashwell - Guest Poet
- Kala Ramesh

- Oct 16
- 3 min read
host: Rupa Anand
editors on haikuKATHA: Shalini Pattabiraman, Vidya Shankar, Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh
Lorraine Haig has stepped down from being a mentor for this forum. Triveni Haikai India and The Haibun Gallery are grateful for her exceptional feedback and responses over the last few years.
Guest Poet: Joanna Ashwell
A Thursday Feature 16th October
INTRODUCTION
Reading is the cornerstone of being a good writer. It is where we learn, get inspired and continue to adapt our own voice. I have many notebooks where I gather ideas. Sometimes a haibun begins with the title or a thought of what I want to say. Other times I find a haiku that seems to fit into the tapestry of a haibun. On a really good day, the haibun just flows fully formed.
I prefer to read slowly, holding a book in my hands. It may not be fashionable but there is something about the way the words settle on the paper and the weight of the pages as I turn them. I also often write pen to paper, type the drafts then edit from there. Although I touch-type and can hammer a poem out on the screen, ink gives me that touch and feel that I crave as I write.
This brings me to the five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. A good haibun brings these alive, there may be one prominent sense or a mixture drawing the reader in. For our prompts this month I invite you to use these to inspire your writing.
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Week 3
Smells can invoke a memory of a place, a person, a favourite dish. They are loaded with emotion. My mother was a nurse and one of the smells she has never forgotten is burning flesh. Your sense of smell can bring joy, sadness or fear.
In the haibun below, Florence has used the opening of an abattoir with the reek of offal to set the scene. There is the sound of the water, the suggestion of rubbish and the smells this contains. Her words also paint a picture. Her piece is a good example of multiple senses working together. It is good to consider how we might bring more than one of these into our work.
Exposure
abattoir
the smell of offal
crying gulls
Low tide at the meeting of waters, fresh and salty. I look over the wall where the Clanrye River enters Carlingford Lough. There are tractor tyres, traffic cones, shopping trolleys, rubbish bins. Mallards in mud with chicks, feeding, swimming, perched on the thrown away, sleeping with heads under wing.
My face in my hands – contorts to a question. A corrosion of conscience… the pull of mud.
hopeful
a grey heron
waiting
Florence Heyhoe
Famished for the Light, published by Alba Publishing, 2025
For this week, the invitation is to ground your haibun with a strong sense of smell. What impact does cooking, the scent, the blossom, the garbage, petrichor… bring to your piece?
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Thanks, Joanna.
Thanks for this brilliant prompt.
I'm sure our poets will love to explore the 5 senses in haibun.
That will be interesting!
Waiting for this month to unfold!
_kala
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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 only be available during the submission period.
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The Haibun Gallery continues as is.
We will be having editors and prompts, and your sharing…

#2
Freshness
Certainly not found in one of the more crowded métro lines in Paris. The innumerable assaults on one's olfactory glands. No use naming them. For decades I preferred taking the time to walk as much as possible, the ambient air dilutes pollution to a certain extent, and every now and then there is an outdoor café or better still a boulangerie. The wetness along the Seine river banks is still a fond memory.
The Alps close to Lyon have a purity hard to describe. The wide horizons renew the air constantly and mist and sunsets should have their own perfumes. I can't say why I like mulled wine, but there is a smell in falling leaves that brings…
Keep it Simple
I received a flyer in my mailbox about a basic practice from the rich yogic tradition that we can easily incorporate into our daily routine. It states that if we consistently practice this method, we can control our blood pressure and enjoy sound sleep, among other things!
What?
“If we consistently practice”—isn’t that where all my good intentions come to a grinding halt?
ha! the lingering
fragrance of a rose ...
the uncluttered mind
Kala Ramesh #1 Feedback welcome.
#1
The Essence of Life
Good news! The borders are opening and we can finally go home. Packing up, we leave at the crack of dawn. As the roads are empty and eateries still closed, we reach home in half the time. Tumbling out of the car, I stretch and take off my mask. Putting in the key, I brace for the fusty damp smell that is bound to be strong
Opening the door, I reel as the stench hits hard. On the verge of retching, I put the mask back on. But it’s not enough to block the strong, pungent smell that pervades the drawing room.
“It’s the shrews.” Mom hobbles in surveying the thick…
#2
Between the Hours
His nose twitches and I feel the first raindrop. The woodland floor begins to permeate and I am enveloped in a corridor of green. The dampness of the leaves, of the bark, of the soil beneath. The garlic flowers begin to open and their pungency threads the air. He pads through the undergrowth going up every trail and behind every tree. I watch and breathe in the freshness, inflating my lungs to their full capacity. He lollops back down the slope and re-joins me on the path. My whole body is resetting to peace and the clock of the outdoors. I pick up my pace as I see the first rays of sunset dimple…
#1
Treat Night
We walk in excitedly clutching our pocket money. The coins jostle and we hear the last jingle as the shop door fully closes. The candy smell hits you inside. It is a sweetening that wraps around our lungs and makes us inhale deeper. We all stare at the shelves as the owner smiles at us. Row upon row of sweetie jars are stacked up to the ceiling. She has a mobile ladder that she can spin along to reach higher. We point at the humbugs and she opens the lid, the mint infuses our nostrils. Black Bullets are passed around as we roll the sphere in our mouths. Our words are a jumble as we…