THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 5th March 2026. Linda Papanicolaou - Guest Editor
- Srinivas Sambangi
- Mar 5
- 2 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
Editors on haikuKATHA: Shalini Pattabiraman, Vidya Shankar, Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh
Guest Editor: Linda Papanicolaou
Featured Poet: Carol MacRury
Host: Srinivas Sambangi
A Thursday Feature
5th March 2026
New Year’s Eve
Carol MacRury
The clock leans toward midnight, and the room hums with borrowed joy.
Someone laughs too loudly, someone else pretends they aren’t crying.
Still, I lift my glass. Hope is a stubborn thing, and even sadness softens
when the world counts down together.
So here’s to what we lost, to what we meant to do, and to the small,
trembling wish that next year might hurt a little less.
bubbles rise
in a vintage flute
Sláinte!
—Facebook 12/31/25
Commentary:
Janus was the ancient Roman god of doorways, gates, and thresholds. He is
represented as having two faces, facing in and out, symbolizing beginnings and
endings. For us, he’s associated with the new year and the month January is
named for him.
I think of that two-faced god Janus when I read Carole’s haibun because of the
complex way it constructs time. We’re often told that haibun should be present
tense. In this one, the title, first prose paragraph and haiku anchor it in present
tense , while the second and third prose paragraphs expand outward to evoke
past and future.
For me, what makes this haibun special is the way emotion is woven into
it—sadness, laughter, joy, hope, and a “trembling wish that next year might hurt
a little less…” in the rising champagne bubbles of a Gaelic toast to “good health!”
Prompt:
Write a haibun whose prose expands beyond the present moment to
include past and/or future.
***

Welcome Linda, as a guest editor for this month!
The month begins with an excellent haibun and commentary
And, thank you for being with us through this month!
_Srinivas

#1. 10.3.26
The Road Not Taken*
There is a room inside me I keep locked—where this love is forbidden.
When I think of those years, I don’t revisit them directly; I move sideways, feeling for the light that spills from choices I didn’t know then were choices.
Yet, some evenings I sense a room glowing at a distance, as if someone inside is waiting, hoping I will come back for them.
autumn dusk—
a shadow drifts
over the brick wall
*Title borrowed from Robert Frost’s poem
Neena Singh
India
Feedback welcome.
Carol’s beautiful Haibun shared by you Linda with commentary made it more powerful and understandable.
Post #1
7.3.26
Beyond the sunset fields
It’s 12 a.m. and I am anxious.
Sitting in my favourite lounge chair, I look around the quiet house. The ambient light falls on pieces of furniture and artifacts I have painstakingly collected over the years. There is a twisted lamp, two bright yellow vases, a round checkered carpet… each holding a story of its own.
Yet, in the end, they’re only things.
What will I carry with me when I die?
ancestral home
my name engraved on a chair
I never sat on
Mona Bedi
India
Feedback appreciated:)
haikuKATHA
CALL FOR HAIBUN AND GEMBUN SUBMISSIONS.
Haibun and gembun submissions for the May issue of haikuKATHA open up from the first of March, 2026.
Kindly use the Google form given below to submit.
Firdaus Parvez and Shalini Pattabiraman will be reading your submissions.
The Google Form link:
https://forms.gle/ta6VAxZmJni5pcoh7
#2 Off Prompt
Certainly it is envious for men to realize how a woman commands the world with her beauty.
transforming
into a female...
clownfish
Tejendra Sherchan, Nepal