One must start from the beginning and simply say: the anthology
Fifty-Seven Damn Good Haiku (by a Bunch of Our Friends) contains no poems about parsnips.
It's important to be clear from the first.
That being said
Fifty-Seven, edited by Michael Dylan Welch and Alan Summers, does contain many a damn fine haiku. Published by Press Here, out of Sammamish, Washington, there are many strong voices here and lots to ponder.
Here's a haiku that slips past you as fast as time itself:
a cloud across the sun
and suddenly
I am old
Helen Russell
A poem about child-rearing, poignant, that manages to be large enough to simultaneously contain a big lie and the biggest truth of all:
and so I agree
not to die before she does—
the sound of crickets
Susan Antolin
Two nifty ku by David Serjeant:
art gallery:
a toddler stoops
to watch a spider
David Serjeant
As truthful as this one is, the next is deeply touching:
autumn sunset
the baby scar
my mother loved
David Serjeant
From this brief selection, a poem that captures the essence of last things:
cottonwood rattle—
the wordlessness
of his final days
Deborah P. Kolodji
Fifty-Seven Damn Good Haiku contains 53 more modern haiku to roll about in the palm of the mind, looking for questions, wondering about answers, and contemplating that ultimate subject of subjects.
Here's my contribution, just in case next time the editors are looking for parsnips ...
A few random hairs
on his bulbous nose -
boiling parsnips
Fifty-Seven Damn Good Haiku (by a Bunch of Our Friends) may be
purchased here for $7.00, £6.00, or 7.00 €.
(In his generous extensive comment to this post, co-editor Alan Summers shared some more of his favorite haiku from this collection and appended
order info. Thanks, Alan)
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This week's featured poem comes from
Lilliput Review #133, an issue which has popped up in blog posts
here and
here.
walking home
after his death touching
anything
Bruce Roxburgh
the village child
clutching the willow
sound asleep
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