THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 21st August 2025. Padma Priya - Guest Poet
- Kala Ramesh

- Aug 21
- 2 min read
Updated: Aug 21
host: Rupa Anand
mentor: Lorraine Haig editors on haikuKATHA: Shalini Pattabiraman, Vidya Shankar, Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh
Guest Poet: Padma Priya
A Thursday Feature
21st August 2025 -
THE HAIBUN GALLERY August 2025 Padma Priya
Don't forget to send us your best haibun between1-20 September, to be considered for publication in November issue of haikuKATHA.
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Doorways
I open the door to silence. I open the fridge to silence. I open the cupboard to silence. I switch on the TV, there is not enough sound. I listen to music, there is not enough solace. I switch on a light, there is so much space. You were everywhere, even when not in a room - there was comfort.
storm light
the flickering link
to distant sky
There are those who understand and those who simply frown. How can you be so sad over the loss of an animal. I hold back my tears. More than a dog; family. I gulp and continue to re-walk where your paws loved. Every tree, every slope, every fresh bud. Was that shadow, you returning to greet me?
heart thread
without a leash
searching for home
Joanna Ashwell
haikuKATHA, Issue 34, August 2024
Prompt
The above haibun by Joanna Ashwell is sensitive and grief-filled. Clipped sentences with words depicting a grimness open the haibun. The light that comes later opens up the prose to reveal the context. The narrator talks about people being empathetic or not empathetic towards her grief and concludes it with a heart-wrenching haiku.
The haibun is layered, allowing for multiple interpretations by the reader.
Prompt one: Shall we try to write a short haibun using small and crisp sentences along with normal prose and see how this mosaic reflects a mood?
Prompt two: Grief is something that everyone encounters in some form or the other. Can we write about it and how one reconciles in his or her own way?
Haibun outside the prompt is welcome.
I eagerly anticipate your haibun.
Thank you.
Padma Priya
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Once again, a beautiful prompt, Padma.
I love your two-winged prompts!
_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Writers are invited to submit one unpublished haibun per submission window.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 open only during the submission period.
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The Haibun Gallery continues as is.
We will be having editors and prompts, and your sharing…

#1 The Long Interval
Even in saltwater, the salmon carry the pattern of their birth stream in their flesh. After crossing thousands of miles, they begin turning toward a memory without form, a map made from silt and time. I wonder if my own return will be like that. Not a homecoming in the traditional sense, but a slow recognition. The brief flare of a streetlamp I once passed beneath. The crackle of cumin seeds in hot oil from a kitchen. The sharp scent of jasmine opening at night. And the sound of my own name spoken without effort. There is no need to be known. There is no need to explain where I have been. I only want to touch…
Thank you, Padma, for sharing Joanna’s poignant haibun. And thank you Joanna.
1 feedback welcome
Sylvan
The morning after my brother’s funeral, I venture out my back door to fill the bird feeders and notice in the nearby river a mute swan swimming slowly towards me. I place some seed on the ground between us and retreat. After a brief pause, and with great effort, the swan comes out of the water. Nearly as tall as me, his snow-white body contrasts with his bright orange bill and black feet.
winter clouds the wing beats of loss
Marilyn Ashbaugh
USA
Mini haibun:
Waiting
for her death, for the last five years an ever-enduring prayer on her lips or so it seems, she rises with a smile to welcome the sun god, Aditya.
song the cuckoo strikes on a two-note repeat
#1
Kala Ramesh
Feedback welcome.
Post #1
23.8.25
Revised thanks to Alfred, Joanna and Lorraine
The missing moon
night river
the uneasiness
after a dream
Rain comes down in sheets. Dark clouds enshroud the night. Far away lightning strikes. A dog cowers down behind a burlap sack.
Inside the house she sleeps soundly. He on the other hand is restless. A certain discomfort creeps up his left arm. His breath doesn’t flow smoothly. He tries to wake her, but she is in her own land of dreams. He reaches out for his phone. Suddenly he loses control. The thud goes unheard as the lowering clouds rumble.
his side of the bed still warm lingering shadows
Mona Bedi
India
Feedback appreciated:)
Original:
The missing moon
broken…