USA

  • Kendall, Mary

  • Kittner, Craig

    crossing the parking lot
    the summer wind carries
    a single brown leaf

     

    dogwood blossoms
    she rides a skateboard
    in office clothes

     

    light turns green
    the goose stops
    to shake its tail

     

    awoken by wind
    a longing to live
    in the forest

     

    aglow
    in sun-soaked cobwebs
    remnants of rain

  • Kolodji, Deborah P

    dried iris
    a lie told
    out of kindness

     

    we agree
    to a cooling off period
    limestone cave

     

    evening chill
    I forage for a sweater
    in Mom’s boxed-up clothes

     

    crackle
    of beach bonfires
    sea salt

     

    hummingbird feeder
    the boss bird
    in his place

     

    pumpkin smiles
    the burning
    inside

  • Kolodji, Deborah P

    my day in slow motion koi

                     Acorn, Issue #40, Spring 2018

  • Kristen Lindquist

    afternoon fog
    the red boathouse
    slowly fading

     

  • Kristen Lindquist


    shortest day
    the road-killed squirrel
    drops its acorn

     

    a crow's bark
    pressure cracks split
    the pond ice

     

    old pond
    last year's tadpoles
    eat this year's

     

  • Lange, Jill

    winter eve—
    wind and snow
    a slow tango

     

     

  • Lange, Jill

    his goodbye—
    the sun too
    lost in fog

    Mayfly, Issue 62, winter 2017,

     

  • Lange, Jill

    the fluffy cat who never talks freely sheds his fur everywhere

     

    fire this time the devil denies

  • Larry Bole


    the new graveyard
    slowly the cleared field
    regains its stones

    Modern Haiku, Autumn 1979, Vol. X, No. 3, p. 7

  • Laughing Waters

    the temple bell
    counting my heartbeats
    in the ripples of lake

     

    winter moon
    stays closer to the rooftop
    homeless cat

     

  • Laurie Greer

    student garden
    the orderly rows
    of seedlings

     

    tall grass
    dew stains
    on my knees

     

  • Lee Gurga

    drop a stone a drop of wine in your still waters

     

  • Lee Gurga

    carrying nowhere
    out of moonlight
    blue damselfly

     

    broken bridge:
    something sharp
    something tender

     

    touching
    the other door
    blue asters

     

  • Lee Gurga

    morning purr
    our fig leaves
    dusted with snow



    second childhood
    a dusty box
    of seashells



    retirement party
    mountains mirrored
    in each lens



    kissing the curve
    of your neck
    fireflies


  • Lee Gurga

    night train
    lit from within
    a bobwhite calls

     

    Indian summer
    a pile of leaves becomes
    a pile of little boys

  • Levy, Mark

    old pine
    leafless
    the distant mountain

     

     

    farewell
    kiss
    the salt of her lips

     

     

    endless
    night
    the stars have teeth


  • Lignori, Priscilla

    Slipping off the branch—
    the snow finally reaches
    its destination

    Honorable Mention - 72th Basho Memorial 2018 English Haiku Contest 

  • Lisa Alexander Baron


    Tiny, black-and-white shells
    in a wooden bowl
    like a heap of bees –
           feeling grateful your
           dead words sting less

  • Lisa Baron

    recalling
    in mid-winter, summer blues:
    a blue-dusted cricket,
    a blue-lit spruce, a blue tick
    on the tip of a rabbit's ear
     


    listening
    to my grandmother's story
    carried
    generations back
    on the train of a mere voice