hosts: Shalini Pattabiraman & Vidya Shankar
mentor: Lorraine Haig
A Thursday Feature
31st October 2024
This month we have the pleasure of celebrating the work of Billie Dee.
Billie Dee is the former Poet Laureate of the U.S. National Library Service. A retired health care worker, she earned her doctorate at U.C. Irvine, completed post-graduate training at U.C. San Diego. Although she writes in a variety of genres, her primary focus is Japaniform poetry. A native Californian, she now lives in the Chihuahuan Desert with her family and a betta fish named Ramon. Billie publishes both online and off.
You can access Billie’s blog in the link attached below.
Website: www.billie-dee-haiku.blogspot.com
This last and final week, we bring you two of Billie’s haibun. Thank you Billie for your contribution to this month’s learning journey. Your exceptional haibun are inspiring and as always your observations and reflections are very welcome.
Billie Dee
Beatitude
I've just walked the dog in the rain. As I hang up the leash, they're running a clip
on CNN of the Texas Pickaxe Murderer, her last ten minutes on Death Row.
She is dressed entirely in white, face radiant as she grips her Bible, crosses herself,
and steps from the cell.
desert moon
a stop sign laced
with bullet holes
Contemporary Haibun Online 5:1, Mar 2009
_______________
Billie Dee
Blue and Yellow
Two brothers poking through rubble
find a singed doll with a severed leg.
The older boy locates a rag and twists
a little tourniquet on the plastic stump.
This is what you’ll do next time.
sunflower field
the sour scent of smoke
in the rain
Source: haikuKATHA 19, May 2023
SP: When submitting to contests what is your personal thought and process behind crafting haibun?
BD: Introspective editing and revision are important steps in all my writing, but especially with a contest piece. I ask myself whether the poem is balanced, lean, and (most significantly) engaging. Are there any unnecessary words, any “filler” passages? Is the writing self-explanatory, i.e., accessible to the casual reader? Of course, I also want to embed layered undertones and allusions—something to think about later—but the poem needs to be clearly understandable on the surface.
Finally, I ask myself whether the poem leaves the reader sufficient space to dream (Ma). I believe that’s where the elusive magic of a memorable poem works on a reader’s mind—and, with luck, lingers a while, compels repeated readings. Sometimes I achieve this effect; often I don’t.
Prompt:
This week’s prompt comes from Billie herself. She invites you to write a haibun that presents itself as a social commentary and recommends reading Chen-ou Liu's work.
PLEASE NOTE:
1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt.
2. Share your best-polished pieces.
3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written.
Let it simmer for a while.
4. Post your final edited version on top of your original verse.
5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in haikuKATHA monthly journal.
Important: Since we're swamped with submissions, and our editors are only human, mistakes can happen. Please, please, remember to put your name, followed by your country, below each poem, even after revisions. It helps our editors; they won't have to type it in, saving them from potential typos. Thanks a ton!
#2 - 7/11/24
Venus and Mars
I usually stay away from sausage sizzle stands. But today, several teenage boys are raising funds for their school rugby team. As my late husband was a fan of rugby, I feel obliged to contribute. I say to one of the boys to please hold the sausage. He is visibly distressed and tells me that he cannot give me just bread with butter.
"All good", I say. "Simply pile on the sauteed onions."
He consults his friends who look equally puzzled.
quantum physics
wrapping my head
around relativity
Kanjini Devi, NZ
feedback welcome
#2, 03.11.24
Revision, thanks to the valuable feedback of Shalini:
𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻
a baby's cry
the touch-me-nots
when touched
Under the veil of night, a dim ball of light hangs by the window. The cricket's whirr in the background stirs the unrest: the noise of the television, a small procession of women marching, their placards moving up and down with the force and shift of chants, push and pull at my wife's heart. She drops the remote and silence fills the room.
— Daipayan Nair, India
(Feedback welcome)
Original:
𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸
Crickets lament under the veil of night. A dim ball of light hangs by the window. A procession of young women, holding placards and chanting slogans of justice, marches past the…
#1
Dusk till dawn
Our lights shine on the trunks each time we reach a corner, though it’s not there that the danger lurks, but at the roadside where the night’s creatures come to forage. My foot hovers over the brake pedal. It’s a game of chance; will they jump onto the road or continue eating? I’ve heard that some people carry a rifle or a strong length of wood but only to use humanly rather than leave an animal in agony.
The kangaroos out west are big. It’s not uncommon to see dozens feeding in the headlight’s penumbra. They often graze in the culverts where the grass is sweet. A young man is driving fast on the…
#1
Selection Points
I sit at the window and watch the birds. The pigeons are first, then the crows. Two ring-collared doves attempt to land but are chased by the pigeons. A blackbird winds his way to the seed below the feeder. It is under the radar of the flap of wings and the peck of the nodding few. A robin lands precariously on the rosebush, narrowly missing the thorns. Nuts are now scattered as a rook dive bombs the hanging feeder. Some days they all dine together and other days there is a defined pecking order.
border crossing
the same moon
on either side
Joanna Ashwell
UK
Feedback welcome
#2 02/11/2024
The Shape of Change
At this junction, where the traffic signal changes every 480 seconds, there are hordes of persons seeking alms. Moving in groups, they have hived out grids for themselves. Over time, there is a working relationship with wayfarers like me, who take the same road daily to work. An easy banter relaxes the workspace.I ask about their health and reasons for a missing face. They talk of troubles with the law enforcers and their greed to shave off their earnings. Almost every other day, I ask why they cannot join the skills center run by the city council. They laugh off my inquiries, shrug them, and get back to their vocation with more vigour.