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THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 25th September 2025. Anju Kishore - Guest Poet

host: Rupa Anand

mentor: Lorraine Haig editors on haikuKATHA: Shalini Pattabiraman, Vidya Shankar, Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh

Guest Poet: Anju Kishore

A Thursday Feature

25th September 2025 -


THE HAIBUN GALLERY  September 2025 Anju Kishore



Dylan Stover

First place, Haiku Society of America Haibun Award 2024

Shortlist, Touchstone Award 2024


heartwood


It began with a young beech tree on a windy day, mid-spring. Acting upon an

impulse I cannot now explain, I pressed my ear to the smooth, gray bark and

started listening. To my surprise, there was sound: a secret inner creaking, like a

stifled moan, as the crown twisted in the breeze. It was voice—tree voice. Each

limb, as it swayed high in the canopy, was sending reverberations down through

the acoustic body of the tree and into my ear as I crouched patiently at its side.


hand at my chest

the doctor suspects

a murmur


That’s when I became a listener of trees: I quickly discovered that smooth bark

was best; the thicker the cork layer, the fainter the sound. Lithe ones were more

melodious, aged ones more laconic, terse. But all speaking.

 

Then one day I noticed a pileated woodpecker hammering away in the upper

branches of an ash tree. Sneaking up to the bole, I put my ear against the bark:

ta-tum ta-tum ta-a-TUM ta-tum… The wood trembled at each jab. Even the

scrapes of the bird’s claws were amplified: every movement echoed inside me,

as if the bird, the tree, and I were unified in a single, ringing vibration.


a simple procedure

to remove the weevil

—then silence


***


That feeling of being one with nature. Those moments when you are the tree, or

the bird, or the breeze or all of them at the same time and still stay the human

blessed with the ability to experience that oneness and express it too. Step

outdoors today and find one aspect of nature to connect to. Connect so deeply

that your hearts beat as one. You have a whole week to forge that connection

and let the human tell us the story like Dylan has in the above haibun.


Haibun outside the prompt is welcome



<>

Thanks, Anju.

We've come to the end of this month and I found your selection and propmts veried and effective.

Waiting to see what our poets come up with!


_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 only be available during the submission period. 


********


The Haibun Gallery continues as is.

We will be having editors and prompts, and your sharing…


43 Comments


Mohua
Mohua
Sep 27

#1


Off prompt


Game of Life

 

 

An unmindful turn and Baba is on the floor. Days turn into weeks as Baba shifts from the private ward into the ICU. The doctors don’t tell us much other than handing out yet another prescription for an exotic antibiotic.

 

Today, they ask me to purchase noradrenaline. Alone in the deserted corridor, I shift blocks on the app getting thwarted again and again.

 

Someone stands beside me looking over my shoulder. “What’s that?” He asks.

 

“Just a game.”

 

“Looks interesting,” he says. “I am sorry, your father is no more.”

 

black clouds

skirting the blue skies

vultures


Mohua Maulik, India


Feedback appreciated.

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Replying to

So sorry Mohua, we need more kindness and love in the world. 🙏

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Mohua
Mohua
Sep 27

Beautiful haibun. Thank you for sharing.

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Edit, thanks to Alfred and Lorraine:

 

#2

 

Man in the Moon

 

It began as a curiosity, prompted by rainfall on glass.  I peered through the curtains, unable to sleep.  There he was up there, bright as a button.  I stared and I stared with his tears falling on my window.  I too cried as I felt so sick.  The following evening as I tossed and turned, there he was again.  The full beam of cream cheese, melting in sky.  As the days went on, we played hide n seek.   Sometimes he hid part of himself, then began to reappear.  One evening I nodded off against the cool glass.  Then woke, face squashed to a moonbeam.

 

waning…


Edited
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Replying to

Yes, Joanna, the revision is much clearer. The new ku opens up a new interpretation.

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#2

Edit after a moment from Lorraine:

From a vantage point above the clearing


Stillness on late summer evenings after too many glasses of rosé at the campsite. Weeks pass by until winds and rains take up residency, the green depths tossed topsy-turvy or dappled by unending concentric circles, often everything at once. Too often. On a day when only a slight interruption occurs, a few men prepare canoes to float, decked in protective wear more like a kingfisher's than forest camouflage. They leave the minnows, watching the thick shadows beneath the autumn leaves before they rot and drown.


sounding algae . . .

waterproof moss paths

lead elsewhere

Alfred Booth

Lyon, France

(feedback welcome)


Original:

In a clearing


Edited
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Replying to

Thanks for the explanation Alfred. The last part makes more sense to me now, and the change in title helps.

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Edit, thanks to Diana and Alfred:

 

#1

 

A Thousand Ways to Sing

 

I am both the twirl, the hum, the snatch and the boom.  You may not see but only feel me.  Sometimes I choose to announce myself.  Bang, crash, wallop – the smash into glass, the shriek around walls, the fell of a tree. 

 

hawfinch

his song whistling

a capella

 

Out of tune, in tune, no matter to me.  I simply sing in the spaces you inhabit or pass through.  The slow brush of blossom, a rippling tide, a feather spinning on a leaf. 

 

goldcrest notes

rising higher

than the wind

 

Joanna Ashwell

UK

 

Feedback welcome

 


#1

 

A Thousand…

Edited
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Replying to

Thank you Alfred for your comments, it might not work for everyone. I hope that what I have changed makes this a bit more palatable for you.

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