Winter 2013 Showcase

It never ceases to amaze me just what comes up in the submissions. I’m glad I make suggestions rather than insist that such-and-such a Showcase will entertain submissions on Spring, on the moon, on such-and-such, on so-and-so. As a result I receive pieces of writing which have been responses to all kinds of transitory phenomena, and although an image of winter may (I haven’t decided yet… a here it is, dropping into the moment of ‘going to press’) accompany this editorial, that doesn’t necessarily reflect the content.

However, I would like to widen the scope in a few ways, firstly to attract more readers and secondly to attract more writers. To that end I am considering appointing a ‘Guest Editor’ for a future Showcase. Maybe even for the next one. The Guest editor’s duties will not involve tinkering around with the web site; they will include finding new writers and new ways of promoting the zen space, selection of items for that Showcase, and writing the editorial for that Showcase.

Yes, I still have in mind the possibility of an anthology based on content from these Showcases, but that’s in the future. Meanwhile I will shortly be announcing the launch of the Aval-Ballan Poetry Competition – expect an announcement with a link to the web site in due course.

Enjoy the current Showcase.

Marie Marshall
editor
the zen space

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Máire Morrissey-Cummins

 

evening breeze
in my candle holder
a spiders web

 

mist
over the moors
sheep drifting

 

winter night
the moon and the stars
walk me home

 

December noon
the sun cradled
in bare branches

 

icy day
his breathe
in mine

__________

Christina Nguyen

 

the flicker
of cheap LEDs
silent night

 

first snow
the fine crumb
of artisanal bread

 

frozen crabapples
the dry rattle
of yesterday

 

snow covered
the cotton candy stand
in December

 

winter storm
the snowplow
in the ditch

__________

Peter Butler

 

Haiku Sequence: In administration

our local Theatr –
something missing
applause

empty stage
too much left
unsaid

inside the drapes
so many great
speeches

car boot sale
the one-time star
framed b & w

two elderly actors
reminiscing
signing on

next season’s productions
wrapped
in graffiti

Haiku

cracks in the pavement
early snowdrops
a little shy

tax demand
the snail
in its shell

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Rick Daddario

 

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S M Abeles

 

with every new sun
I am more brick
than graffiti

 

desert rain
I share a drink
with the Buddha

 

leave me better
than you found me
driftwood

 

30-day course
in enlightenment practice …
the moon whittles itself

 

between mountains
the shape
of time

 

starlight
above and below
the garden buddha

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Steve Bowman

 

My hand is covered
with you. Your sweet inside is
the flavor of dreams.
It perfumes the dark of my
sleep — incense filling my soul.

 

My alarm clock hums
all through the night; a harsh voice:
I AM eternal!

 

Kitten purrs around
your feet.  Furry figure eights
warm as morning sun.

 

Orange leaves rain down;
a halo revolving slow
between feet and ground.

 

I smell your morning
warmth on my hands.  It lingers
in my nose and dreams.

 

Your breath, the soft sighs
of sleep at story’s end.  Slow,
rhythmic Mother’s sound.
Enfold me there between your
dreams and the warmth of your heart.

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Samuel Snoek-Brown

 

 

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Veronika Zora Novak

 

swift current…
the wing span of
a swan

 

dog days…
flies gathering on
the winscreen

 

wintry day…
paper cranes unfold
like cherry blossoms

 

dandelion seeds
collecting in a web…
this old dream

 

blazing stars…
a slab of limestone
cools my skin

 

summer field…
a grasshopper’s
opus

 

apple blossoms…
another spring away
from home?

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Angie Werren

 

too beautiful (these dreams of bird-filled fruit) to carry water

 

black butterfly moon
in all the rooms of my house
her furniture

 

red leaves –
the girl in the crosswalk
touches her face

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Rick Daddario

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kate s godsey

 

a raven shadow
passes over my face
the choice is clear

 

children after school
their voices the orange
of Rowan leaves

 

blue twilight
scent of the distant sea
and plums blossoms

 

moon halo
a pearl for the Madonna
this Christmas eve

 

childhood summers
rabbit tracks on the berm
and our secret willow

 

august moon
standing back to back
to see who’s taller

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Review – A Piece of Shrapnel

A Piece of Shrapnel: A Haibun Collection
Peter Butler
Hub Haiku Series, Hub Editions, Spalding, 2012
ISBN 978-1-930746-96-7, pp.37
Reviewed by Marie Marshall

‘There are light and darkness… joy and menace, a mix of past experience and home truths with flights of the imagination,’ says Peter Butler himself of this collection, and, not wishing that his haibun should reveal everything, tantalizes us with the promise of a slow-release dose, saying that there are ‘… shades of in-between light and feeling which tell their own story.’

Almost… I didn’t want to review this book, for the simple reason that it meant reading it all the way through at one sitting. So I’ll confess: I have indeed left chunks of it unread, so I can keep coming back to it. Also I always feel apologetic when having to give my opinion of haiku and such like, because it defies, or ought to defy, literary criticism and close textual analysis. The best haibun, like the best haiku, is deliberately unpoetical; at the same time it is never prosaic. It takes ordinary things, leaves them ordinary, but gives the reader the impression that something extraordinary is going on – a performance of The Importance of Being Earnest is rained off, Poirot solves a murder, Bashō’s batman tries out variations on a frog theme, GIs leave for Omaha Beach. Peter’s themes are as disorderly as the way he commits them to the page, and that’s a good thing. Sometimes the brief, stand-alone lines occur at the end, sometimes in clumps in the middle, never precisely measured but always… right… exactly where they ought to be. I’ll quote the following vignette (Peter will say it isn’t a vignette, I say I love the compound words in it, none of this actually matters) and leave you to buy the book. You’ll not regret it.

a private person
singing
with the butterflies

Bold Ethel, potbound in a virgindrab bedsit, invites him in.

Adonis, out to conquer, pleasures the world at a price.

Sad Ethel, an empty purse and ‘not feeling so very different’, watches him leave.

her diary reads
X
?

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The next Showcase at the zen space will be Spring 2013 which will be released, subject to karma, on 1^st April 2013. Please note the copyright of all written work and images used in this showcase and elsewhere in the zen space is held by the creating artist/author or by the zen space, even where not explicitly stated, and may not be used elsewhere without permission.

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Would readers kindly inform the editor of any instance where the lay-out of the Showcase looks odd. Please give details of the internet browser you are using. Thank you.

MM