Capturing a scientific symposium in a haiku sequence! Remember the #haiku sequence on the Ammersee conference I wrote in 2018? It was included with the conference proceedings in a special edition of Visual Cognition, Vol. 27, issues 5-8, May/September Routledge, 2019 – (scroll to p.2 of the editorial). Why have a volume of papers when you can describe the whole thing in a few haiku? 
Category Archives: Journals 2019
JuxtaFive: The Journal of Haiku Research and Scholarship
Great news! JuxtaFive is ready and available to read online! This edition of the Haiku Foundation Journal of Haiku Research and Scholarship includes several articles, reviews, haiga and a special section on Women Mentoring Women (and the article Knocking on the Doors of Perception on Haiku and the Brain contributed by me and co-authors: Thomas Geyer, Franziska Guenther, Jim Kacian, Heinrich Liesefeld, and Hermann J. Mueller).
Here
‘evening fog’ in Bones Journal
evening fog
the holes in the subtext
disappear
.
Very pleased to have this haiku in Bones 18, 15 November 2019, p. 150.
‘clinging’
clinging
to the surface of things ...
melting snow
Haiku in HSA Members' Anthology 2019. Photo of installation by the British artist Cathy Wilkes commissioned to create the British Pavilion for the Venice Biennale in 2019.
haiga
‘Homewards’ in KYSO Flash 12
Honoured to have my haibun “Homewards” included in “White Blossoms”
[An e-Collection of Photographs and Words] by Susan Tekulve in KYSO Flash 12!
{scroll down the page to “Magnolia blossoms and red clay”}
Many thanks to editor Clare MacQueen!
“White Blossoms:” “In addition to photographs and lyrical prose by essayist and novelist Susan Tekulve, this collection contains prosimetra by authors such as Rick Mulkey, Stella Pierides, Brenda Sutton Rose, and Carl Sandburg, among others.”
‘The Path’ in Califragile
Delighted to see my #haibun “The Path” included in Califragile (July 23, 2019)
Many thanks to the editor Wren Tuatha!
Originally In Blue Fifth Review, Broadside #44 Fall 2016 with the beautiful painting below by Maria Pierides
In addition, full text here
In ‘Hedgerow’
Pleased to see my haiku in issue 127 of ‘Hedgerow’ edited by Caroline Skanne! Thank you Caroline!
In ‘Peonies’
Three of my haiku were translated into Bulgarian and included in the anthology Peonies edited by Iliyana Stoyanova! Thank you, Iliyana!
‘Mother’s Day’ in Butterfly Dream
English Original
mother’s day
pushing all the wrong
buttons
Frogpond, 38:2, Spring/Summer 2015
Stella Pierides
Chinese Translation (Traditional)
母親節
激起所有強烈
的情緒
Chinese Translation (Simplified)
母親節
激起所有強烈
的情緒
Delighted to see my Mother’s Day haiku appear on Butterfly Dream today! Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu!
Thank you Chen-ou!
‘Solace’ in Open: Journal of Arts and Letters
Solace (Triptych)
In a dark wood . . .
Heaving streets, bulging with holiday shoppers. Shop windows in garish colours blink their version of hell. As soon as I get the present I came for, I head for home.
Running for the bus, I bump into someone, or he bumps into me. The double-decker reeks of wet clothes. A young woman, clutching her baby close to her chest, is arguing with the bus driver who refuses to let her on without a ticket.
We stay put for a good thirty minutes, until a passenger, with a shaking hand, taps his debit card on the card reader and pays the fare for her.
the baby babbles . . .
raindrops on
the bus window
and without props
It hasn’t rained for weeks. The two workmen in my back garden, digging the foundations for a cat enclosure, sound industrious. There is a young apple tree standing right in the middle of it, and I have instructed them to shorten its branches so that it can be contained within the structure. I imagine my two cats spending happy hours climbing it, perching on its branches. But when I look outside, I see the tree is missing. I am told it was taking too much space and they decided to remove it for me, at no extra cost.
short shrift
the town crier’s
hoarse voice
against freezing
I own five hot water bottles. As you might have guessed, I feel the cold more than others. When I place these hot, felt-wrapped receptacles on my coldest parts, I experience the bliss others must take for granted.
clang of a spade
I imagine the workmen
striking gold
In Open: Journal of Arts and Letters, 25 Feb 2019 h
and check out the whole journal: a rich and rewarding read!
‘Seriously’ in Open: Journal of Arts and Letters
The shelves in the beauty aisle are piled high with hand creams. Tubes, jars, bottles, tins of brands I never knew existed. So many! I stand here for a while, wondering whether this abundance could be attributed to the forthcoming Brexit. After all, all sorts of strange events in the last couple of years have been attributed to it. I imagine that both remainers and leavers would need a cream to soothe their hands after clapping for one or the other speaker; after rubbing their eyes in disbelief on reading the daily news or covering their ears for hours in the gesture perfectly captured by Munch’s “The Scream.” Could this be it?
late winter
the street dog’s sad
whimper
In Open: Journal of Arts and Letters, 25 Feb 2019, Mixed forms: Haibun
‘lifting the veil’ featured on Per Diem: Daily Haiku
Thrilled to see that my ‘lifting the veil’ poem was featured on The Haiku Foundation Per Diem: Daily Haiku on the 6th of January 2019!
Many thanks to guest-editor Simon Hanson for including it in his wonderful collection ‘Darkness’!
‘Absences’ in Unbroken Journal
The ossuary, a white-washed, rectangular building, is dark and cool. A musty smell envelops me as I enter. I am searching for the metal box containing my mother’s bones.
I’ve been told she is confined to one on the shelves that run the length of the room. I start searching methodically. Each box has a small hand-written label with the deceased’s name on its front. Several labels are blank. One has a dried daisy flower stuck on it with Sellotape; another, a star in cross stitch; yet another, a tiny motorcycle sticker. Photographs of the dead looking youthful are taped to several boxes, or placed next to them, complicating identification of the containers’ occupants.
Disheartened, I leave the grim building to walk in the dappled shade of the graveyard. The hum of the city mixes with birdsong. So many years since I was in Athens. I stop to read the names of the deceased on headstones, marvel at the stone angels, at the oil lamps. Soon my head is swimming. A woman burning sweet-smelling incense over a grave turns to look at me. I quickly look away, but then, returning her gaze, I nod and she smiles.
noon heat
a hairline crack
in the angel’s wing
In Unbroken Journal, issue 20, 2019
Stella Pierides 