- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
Two poems published in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 1.1 edited by Bruce Ross
nightfall −
an absence of stars
closes in
scent of rain . . .
an oak leaf rustles
out of time
--- Hansha Teki, New Zealand
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
Poems published in issues 12 and 14 of Bones - journal for the short verse
Editor: J. S. H. Bjerg
{imageshow sl=14 sc=1 w=1024 h=960 /}
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
The following displayed poems first appeared in Otata 13, Otata 17, and Otata 24.
Otata was edited by John Martone monthly from January 2016 until it went into hiatus in December 2019
Individual issues may be downloaded as PDF publications from the Otata blog website.
{imageshow sl=15 sc=1 w=1024 h=1024 /}
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
A haibun published in Narrow Road edited by Paresh Tiwari
{imageshow sl=17 sc=1 w=1024 h=1024 /}
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
Published in issue 13 of NOON: journal of the short poem edited by Philip Rowland, Japan
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
These pieces were published in issues 21 and 23 of Prune Juice
{imageshow sl=19 sc=1 w=1024 h=1024 /}
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
Poems published in issues 9 & 10 of Sonic Boom edited by Shloka Shakar.
Sonic Boom is a literary & arts journal that seeks both solicited and unsolicited poetry, prose, and visual art submissions tri-annually. It hopes
to integrate multifarious genres of literature and artwork including Japanese short-forms of poetry, avant-garde, conceptual, and postmodern works of culture and art.
petrichor
a snail practices
our absence
pine lesson
it is what
it is not
I am now
in your third person
also present
Kenosis
Why was he looking up at the night sky?
In the frost-crisped night of central Taranaki, when light was evanescent at best, he foot-crunched through a paddock to exteriorise the dark that had been suffusing him.
What filled the night sky at that moment?
Just stars. So cold was the air that the darkness was clear and starlight was breath-held in its stillness. The Southern Cross was risen there. Night-dew christened his beard.
Was he seen?
None knew of his presence there let alone the nature or length of his existence.
What could he see?
Only a chill arc of stars, a rainbow of night, creating its own light out of nothing.
Why the tear?
Because he could see as he is seen.
Did this precipitate any change?
He was strengthened to endure all that is still to come.
Will he depict that night in words for others to see?
He will learn how to do without words.
at the end
the beginning
of the end
========
last post
and the you
we knew
chill winds sound
at once
once more
the bugle
with your
nameslessness
========
whisper it
winter hush
when silence is an echo
long shadows offer up
of itself
mute evidence
========
wiping out
blank slate
the last traces
I redraw
of breath
a butterfly's path
- Details
- Written by: Hansha Teki
- Category: 2017
Right Hand Pointing Issue 107: low sky
winter haiku 2017
edited by Eric Burke
{imageshow sl=26 sc=1 w=800 h=800 /}