THE HAIBUN GALLERY: 9th October 2025. Joanna Ashwell - Guest Poet
- Kala Ramesh
- 12 hours ago
- 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 9th 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 2
I invite you this week to consider the sense of hearing and sound. The world around us is full of noise. The relentless sharing of media, notifications, street music, rainfall, the wind, voices, your footsteps… The list is endless. In what way can you introduce a sound into your piece to shape an event or place?
In Matthew’s haibun below he has used both sound and the absence of sound, no words are required between the two.
Ricochet
The marble slips from his jacket pocket. Bounce, bounce, bounces towards me. Rolls to a stop against my booted foot. He halts his playful chase. Looks up. Afraid. No games in the dining hall. A rule he has learned well. But this, I know, is an innocent mishap. I grin. Lift up to his tiny hand the blue orb flecked with gold. He offers in return a tentative tooth. Before a full-mouthed smile.
winter wind
the clack
of an orphan’s crutch
Matthew Caretti
Published in ‘red river book of haibun’ VOL 1
Edited by Steve Hodge & Paresh Tiwari, RED RIVER, 2019
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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…
Echo of bedtime fairy footsteps
Four hours time. She lodges 3am in her head. Looks at the forecast again . A cloud and a pair of droplets. Just right. She arranges the bedside table, settles down, closes her eyes. Believes. Now phone in hand she squints at the time. Ten past three in the morning. The forecast was wrong. Reaching out she feels the silver foil card cutting into her palm. Finger by finger shec finds each slot empty. Right at the edge she feels for the very last two. The kind he didn't recommend of dscs the size of old fashioned pennies enclosed in paper. She runs her fingertip round the periphery before tearing them out and dropping the…