Ten Poems by Jaime Stanford | Zombie Logic Review

Ten Poems by Jaime Stanford | Zombie Logic Review

Jaime Stanford is a poet, poetry educator, and resident of Stratford-upon-Avon, UK. Writing poetry since 2019, Jaime has spent the past five years teaching others a variety of poetry styles. With a passion for poetry, the English language, and creative expression, Jaime inspires writers to explore creativity through verse.

Poet Jaime Stanford 

Haiku

Muffled minds wonder
sudoric bodies shudder
caressing slumber.

A velvety dusk
hangs low; muffled oranges
the tide grows nearer.

Vividness
colour cascade
beautiful mind pervades.

Heart
tightly bound
silenced no sound.

Haiku Chain Write

Your
deep love
held the key

You
unlocked me
my heart breathed

Together
our souls
hand in hand.

Monoku

I am your darkest gift filled with sin and utter bliss

wildflowers in pink she cherishes the cool wind

pearl tinted moon moulded like the bowl of a spoon splashed milk drops at dusk

Tiptoeing through silk petals blossom scented feet

Haynaku

Crestfallen
Soul battered
Upon its knees.

Ten Haiku and Senryu by C. Oulens | Zombie Logic Review

C. Oulens is a poet from India. Her haiku has appeared in Literary Revelations, Pan Haiku Review, The Zen Space, Poetry Pea, The Solitary Daisy, Prune Juice, 575 Haiku Journal, Folk Ku, Failed Haiku, PJCA, Heterodox Haiku, The Wee Sparrows haiku Nook, Haiku Pause and Café Haiku. Explore her work @owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social

summer rain
puddles fill with feet
laughter spills

tsuki kōru
the old ache flowing
through my stiff joints

new moon -
the phone ringing
on silent mode

clouds drift…
Owl, the emissary
from moon

summer solstice -
the robin’s small song
on loop

morning frost -
a cloud breaks free
from my yawn

cataract surgery
mom poems
cobwebs in new corners

last road trip together
the seatbelt
chafes at my neck

at the peak of my fall
smell of grass

infinity of thoughts stirring in my teacup

Ten Haiku by Sheikha A. | Zombie Logic Review

Sheikha A. is a Pushcart and Rhysling nominee from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her work appears in a variety of literary venues, both print and online, including several anthologies by different presses such as Poets for Science, Immagine and Poesia, Strange Horizons, Ladies of Horror Flash Project, Pedestal Magazine, The Mackinaw, The Global South, Cattails, Frogpond, The Ekphrastic Review, The Asahi Haikuist Network, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been translated into 12 languages so far. Find more about her at sheikha82.wordpress.com 

dusk's chorus 

a supernova 

of red admirals 

dead lotus 

wearing acne scars

on the first date 

winter light

the slap

of a kelpie's tail

a stagnant pond's

poetry in motion 

darting dragonflies 

the starry hump 

on Milky Way's spine 

--- wisteria 

ridged swirls

a knoll of antlers 

dip into star-well 

turning within rubble fresh loam of drone-stars 

lungs' flutesong last few hisses in her inhaler

dawn's quiet nook chirp of a turning page  

shadow blossoms on a moonbow fallen cherry

Seven Haiku by Martina Matijević | Zombie Logic Review

Martina Matijević is a Croatian haiku poet whose work has been published in various journals, including Modern Haiku and Acorn. Under her haiku belt, she holds a spot as one of the top 100 European haiku writers and earned four Touchstone nominations during her debut year of writing. Bluesky: @vientoverde

Haiku poet Martina Matijević

thunderclap...
one more
accent mark

firewood —
with each cut
a new sunray

roasted chestnut
after one nibble
a child again

harvest moon —
sumi-e
of the forest

wet walkway
a street lamp
makes its sunrise

flower garden —
leafy wave
one breeze long

October drizzle —
a dotted view
of the sky

Six Tercets, One Monostich, Two Duostich By Alan Summers

Alan Summers: Chippenham, England UK, 6’3” dextromanual, carmina scribere cupiens, founder Pan Haiku Review, founder Call of the Page.

Six tercets, one monostich, two duostich:

green moon
rising wide-eyed
the early dog roses

drifting woodsmoke
the double-decker bus
bright as a movie

when and where
are the shared colours
poor-land daisies

wearing shorts
a smile on each knee
to the supermarket

autumn deepens
with a fleeting [blank space]
a day worn out

god rays for a cat
the rain clouds shift
mending things

so much for
the red sled
all snowbound
all forgotten
in light

after William Carlos Williams

worrdied = worredied = worridied = words died mama

after The Guild of Emotional Artisans

we never take them alive
each dream as snow

golden hour sketching
the charcoal late-emerging bumblebees

Ten Haiku By Tré

Tré is a Blue Ridge Mountain haikai (haiku, senryū, and haiga) author, fantasy writer, editor of the Wolf Twin Review, and Massurreal artist endorsed by The Museum for Massurrealist Art (Berlin, Germany). Drawing inspiration from nature and lucid dreams, Tré creates—while wearing pajamas—under the supervision of an articulate cat and powered by copious amounts of jasmine tea.

                          

Haiku poet Tré of Wolf Twin Books

With publishing partner Thomas L. Vaultonburg, Tré owns and operates Wolf Twin Books. The first edition of their haiku art book, Moonscape, is in the (University of Arizona) Poetry Center’s library collection. Along with many published poems in journals and anthologies worldwide, Tré’s haiku are also featured in The Museum of Modern Japanese Literature and the Basho Museum.

 

Tré's work has appeared (or is forthcoming) in many publications, including The Washington Post, Asahi Shimbun Haikuist Network, Cattails, Chrysanthemum, Cicada's Cry, Echidna Tracks, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry, folk ku, Haiku Dialogue, Haiku Girl Summer, Haiku Shack Magazine, HillRag, LEAF, Only Human, Pan Haiku Review, Poetry Pea, Presence, Prune Juice, Pure Haiku, Sense & Sensibility Haiku Journal, smols, Trash Panda, THF Monthly Kukai, The Solitary Daisy, and Wales Haiku Journal.

the gentle taper
of a mountain—
dad's uniform

learning of her death—
a passerby
tells me to smile

the owl's golden gaze
measures my body—
kerning

dusk wefting—
the water strider's
suminagashi

wolf on the ridge
a grey cowboy's
last nod

midnight drone—
the farmer buries
another UFO

mammatus clouds . . .
dabbing
the cotton fields

flipped porch swing—
the green sky
freshly cut

ancestry
his vest and her scarf
in the quilt

open palms
the cherry petals
choosing me

 

SECOND NATURE: Salvaged Metal Sculpture and Haiku at Rockford ArtScene

This fall has developed in a way I did not particularly plan. What began as several separate projects—walking, writing haiku, making books, collaborating with other artists, paying attention to the animals and landscapes around Rockford—has gradually begun to look like one larger body of work. The connections were probably there all along. I just hadn't necessarily thought of them as parts of the same thing.

The newest manifestation of that work is SECOND NATURE, a collaboration between Rockford metal artist Michael Zant and haikuists Thomas L. Vaultonburg and Tré of Wolf Twin Books for Fall ArtScene at Rockford Art Deli. SECOND NATURE pairs Zant's salvaged-metal sculptures of animals with original haiku. Each sculpture is made from reclaimed and repurposed materials: old metal given another life as claws, wings, paws, fur, bone and muscle. Each animal is then paired with a poem responding to the creature rather than simply describing the sculpture.

The exhibition is also a benefit for Wild Roots, whose work with injured and orphaned native wildlife gives the project another natural connection. The Rockford Area Arts Council describes the exhibition as celebrating "the wild lives around us" and "the possibilities of discarded things." I couldn't come up with a much better description of what Michael and I are trying to do. Something discarded isn't necessarily finished. Something overlooked isn't necessarily unimportant. Sometimes it just needs to be encountered differently.

There is something appealing to me about making an animal from material that has already had another purpose. A piece of steel doesn't stop existing because a machine, chair, tool or piece of equipment has outlived its usefulness. It simply becomes available for another interpretation. Michael sees a claw where somebody else sees scrap metal. Eventually a collection of those transformations becomes a bear, a bird or an opossum.

Possum sculpture by Michael Zant

The same thing is probably true of places. For more than six years, photographer Ryan Davis and I have walked Rockford making Hike You!, a collaboration of photographs and haiku based on familiar streets, alleys, riverbanks, buildings and overlooked objects. That project will also appear during Fall ArtScene, at RevHaus. We have walked many of the same streets dozens or even hundreds of times, and the strange thing is that repetition doesn't necessarily make them less interesting. Sometimes familiarity eventually circles around and becomes mystery again.

That is remarkably close to what is happening in SECOND NATURE. In one project, an ordinary street becomes strange again because somebody stops long enough to look at it. In another, discarded metal becomes an animal because somebody sees a possibility that wasn't obvious before. Both projects are concerned with reclamation in one form or another, and in both cases the process begins with attention.

Over the past several years I have increasingly used the phrase Prairie Zen to describe this approach to my haiku. Prairie Zen isn't a doctrine, and I'm not particularly interested in turning it into one. It is an attempt to locate the contemplative impulse of haiku in the landscape where I actually live: Midwestern woods, prairie remnants, drainage ditches, county roads, riverbanks, abandoned things, birds, insects and animals. It is a Zen of bur oaks and utility poles, turkey vultures and strip malls, railroad tracks and vacant lots.

The central idea is probably that nothing has to become exotic before it becomes worthy of attention. A rusted fencepost can be enough. A possum can be enough. A bicycle pulled from the Rock River can be enough. A weed growing through concrete can be enough. You don't have to travel halfway around the world looking for a sacred landscape if you're willing to entertain the possibility that you're already standing in one.

That sensibility has increasingly become the connective tissue among these projects, and it is also central to my newest book, Vanished Roads. Published this summer by Wolf Twin Books, Vanished Roads collects 104 haiku and short poems moving through woods, prairies, abandoned roads, animals, weather, grief, humor, memory and renewal. The book is illustrated by Tré and represents perhaps the clearest expression so far of the kind of poetry I've been moving toward.

I didn't write Vanished Roads as a manifesto for Prairie Zen, and I don't want to retroactively turn it into one. The poems came first. The terminology arrived later as I began noticing what I kept returning to: impermanence, overlooked objects, Midwestern landscapes, animals, strange little collisions between the natural and human worlds, and the possibility that something ordinary can suddenly become luminous if you happen to catch it at the right moment.

That makes this fall feel less like a collection of unrelated appearances and more like an interesting convergence. Hike You! takes the idea into the streets of Rockford through photography, walking and haiku. SECOND NATURE brings it into collaboration with Michael Zant's salvaged-metal animals and the wildlife rehabilitation work of Wild Roots. Vanished Roads gathers another part of that landscape into a book. Wolf Twin Books gives the work a home from which it can continue developing.

I don't know that any of this needs to be tied together more neatly than that. In fact, I'd rather leave some room around it. A book, a walking project, a salvaged-metal wildlife exhibition, photography, haiku, Rockford, the prairie, things discarded and found again. They seem to recognize one another.

Perhaps that is what SECOND NATURE means to me more than anything else. Not returning something to what it was, but paying enough attention to discover what else it might become.