tsuri-dōrō journal, 2021

half-buried leaves 

the years we spent together 

as strangers 

last stage cancer 

the leaf skeleton dangling 

from a tree 

young therapist 

asking less 

telling more 

tsuri-dōrō, Issue #6 – Nov/Dec 2021


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tiger lily
pausing my thoughts
ellipses

Issue#5 of tsuri-dōrō – a small journal of haiku and senryū

----------

ebb tide
adding an ellipsis
to my melancholy


dark poem
counting syllables
the raven and I

tsuri-dōrō journal, Issue #4 – July/Aug 2021


----------


bamboo wind—
she proposes to him
in her mother tongue

reconciliation—
the moon’s halo outshines
the moon


tsuri-dōrō Issue #3 – May/June 2021

Cattails, 2021

----------

double rainbow 

across the fence 

after rain 

who knows who sees 

the epiphany of light

---------

Cattails, October 2021

---------

cold snap
a stray dog curls up
with the bare oak

-------


dim lights
of the dead city
I sing lullabies
to the distant stars
who lost their galaxies

-------


wilted petals
of cherry blossoms
on the ward windowsill
does it matter anymore
what’s beyond seeing?

-------



Cattails, April 2021

Chrysanthemum, 2021

spring waterfall
the uninterrupted babbling
of a toddler

Frühlingswasserfall
das ununterbrochene Babbeln
eines Kleinkinds

------

forest meditation
I breathe in
the birdsongs

Waldmeditation
ich inhaliere
den Vogelgesang

------

rose bud
the selfie pout
of a toddler

Rosenknospe das
Selfie-Schmollmündchen
eines Kleinkinds

CHRYSANTHEMUM 29, April 2021

FemKuMag, 2021

the remains 

of some old bruises 

overripe peach

stillbirth—  

the loose petals 

of chrysanthemum 

voodoo doll— 

the way he sketches 

a feminist  

FemKuMag, issue#30, 2021

------------

child bride

cold snap buried the unfurled crocuses alive

her braided hair the labyrinth of family tradition

hoarfrost carved a budding rose her wedding gown

her nose pin a crescent moon in the hazy sky

cold wind chimes her bangles

dust out of cocoon the wingless butterfly

rouged cheeks of a teen girl tangerine sky

twilight murmuration summed up her freewill

her crimson silhouette on the aisle fallen rose petals

FemKuMag, issue#29, 2021

brass bell, 2021

slow morning 

the steady hum 

from the cast iron kettle

Brass Bell, January, 2022

------

night chill
counting the holes
in my socks

Brass Bell, December, 2021

------

first baking — 

on the kitchen window 

her moonlit handprints

Brass Bell, November, 2021

-------

evening timepass 

refilling the pill box 

in 2 hours

Brass Bell, October, 2021

-------

fairy tale
stuck in the castle
my niece’s imagination

Brass Bell, September, 2021

-------

half-open window
the family photo gathers
more dust

rare family dinner
all of us
in a new relationship


Brass Bell, Friends & Family, August, 2021

http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com/

--------------

old tyre swing 

deshaping 

the full moon 

paperboat 

in the rain puddle 

mom’s old prescription 

flying paper kites 

with no strings attached 

childhood daydreaming

brass bell: a haiku journal, July 2021 - childhood

-------

owl’s hoot
through a scarecrow’s mouth
old family farm

brass bell: a haiku journal, June 2021

--------------

first sight
of the crescent moon
baby’s smile

brass bell, April issue, 2021

failed haiku, 2021

The Pink Ribbon 

Autumn’s on its last gasp, leaves already half-buried in the wet ground. They cling to my shoes in clumps, slowing each early morning step.

quiet path I trip over my shadow 

The mist refuses to lift, so, when I reach the lake there is only the sound of lapping waves and close up, the unfurling lotuses at its edges. I sit on an empty bench and listen to submerged birdsong. 

 

transience

the wet pebbles

under my feet 

Dawn is breaking. I close my eyes and let my body float; the sunrays touch my breast; its warmth lifts me above the clouds. In such moments, before I fall, sometimes I glimpse the divine.

calm wind my steady heartbeat  

I am calm as I walk back. It seems all my worries disappear : the diagnosis, the surgery, all of it.

And there is only the light. 

 

 

half-opened window

composing a new song

the robin and I

-----------------------

Betrayal

ring of fire
I stand my ground
without you

the icy breeze
between us

perseids
all those narratives
I hold back

counting
the days till
far apart

cul-de-sac
my breaking point

rising fever
all photos turned
into ashes

Hifsa Ashraf & Sherry Grant

-------

Chinese Translation 

背叛

作者：伊芙莎·阿許拉芙（巴基斯坦）+ 火の鳥（紐西蘭 ）

中文翻譯：火の鳥

猛烈的火圈
我堅持我的立場
毋需靠你

我倆之間的
冰凍三尺

流星雨
我對我的故事
三緘其口

倒數計時
直到我們相互
遠離的那一天

無路可逃
我忍受不了

熱度上升
所有照片都
燒成灰燼


Failed Haiku, Issue 71, November 2021

-------------------------------

dust devils in between the white flags border fence the shadows of veils democracy day the stampede of narratives smoke and ashes settling down the political differences

Failed Haiku, Issue 70

---------

Back to home

crossing boundary
the lingering smell
of desi roti

earthen pot
welling up stars in her eyes

nightingale songs
pull me towards
the old haveli

again clambering
over quiet walls
a forgotten prayer

concrete courtyard
imprints of small feet

passing breeze
flecks of blossoms
on my shawl


Hifsa Ashraf & Richa Sharma


---------

Heal Thyself


coming home
the family gate still creaks
goodbye

moths flicker
around my silver hair

genealogy
tracing a path into
inner space

moondust
chiselling out
my narrative of being

lost on the beaten track
out of my old self

mindfulness
finding my place
deep within


John Hawkhead & Hifsa Ashraf

failed haiku, Volume 6, Issue 69

----------

Eid Stories

Eid moon sighting
all we become
the howling wolves

Eid moon—
aligning my smile
with its light

Eid prayer—
in rows and columns
bowing heads

pandemic year’s Eid
greeting each other
with masked faces

Eid festivity...
a traditional Pakistani meal
with new flavours

Eid gown
in every fold
the galaxy of stars

palm henna tattoo
colouring
my life line

Eid day rain
in a teen girl’s hands
the jingling bangles

mom’s Eid party
the lingering aroma
of kebabs and tikka

Eid dinner...
all we discussed
the next Eid plans

failed haiku A Journal of English Senryu Volume 6, Issue 68

---------------------------------------

quiet day
	one after another
daffodil’s petals
	under his feet
her innocence
	crumpled

 

----------------

acid rain
	uprooting
her feelings
	the jasmine buds
without fragrance
	forced marriage

 

-----------------

torrential rain
	washes away
her story
	that is written
on the wall
	with charcoal

 

---------------

water tub
	she makes
soap bubbles
	with her small hands
to catch a glimpse
	of her fragile aura

 

------------------

 

her voice
	deepens
the folk songs
	she sings
all alone
	for her doll bride

 

----------------

 

her cupped hands
	on the wedding day
after a long silence
	she mumbles
her deepest wish
	to fly like a sparrow

 

failed haiku A Journal of English Senryu Volume 6, Issue 67

----------------

power outage 

unmasking 

his real face 

beyond 

the pandemic blues 

Eid moon 

plumes of smoke 

around the evening sun 

Al-Aqsa mosque


Failed Haiku Issue 66 'Back from the Dead'

-------------

rusty shovel… 

the burden of Earth 

on his shoulders night shift 

walks him home 

the waning moon deep furrows— 

the seven decades 

of his life as a farmer

  shoe shiner 

dirt of the city 

on his face

failed haiku, Volume 6, Issue 65

--------

mammogram—
I encounter
more shadows


before and after
my self-isolation
flickering fireflies


office email…
the Eid greeting card
in black and white


midsummer rain
striking the front gate
mom's memory


perceived to be a Muslim
he avoids itching his beard
on the night train


self-isolation
the rain and I
falling more

failed haiku, issue 64, 2021