My thanks to the writers who submitted 692 entries in the Open Haiku Section for 2006. I have lived with their poems over a period of three weeks. Initially I looked for poems with fresh images; those that observed the ‘show, do not tell' maxim; and those that, in effect, opened a door to an unexpected train of thought. A good number were put aside early in the period but not before each was read and studied on at least two different occasions. I gave most attention to the fifty or so that remained. I took time to let these poems mature in my thoughts, both conscious and subconscious. As time passed some faded, others emerged. At this stage I particularly looked for haiku with images that remained fresh on re-readings, haiku that were well crafted and those with lasting resonance, that quality that is the mark of truly excellent haiku. Nowhere among the poems I judged was this more evident than in the winning entry. In my view this is a haiku of the very highest standard. I'm grateful to the New Zealand Poetry Society for the privilege and pleasure of judging the competition, and pay tribute to Laurice Gilbert for her helpful and efficient organisation of the process.

1st place

wax-eye
on a twig
without breaking it

Wax-eyes are such energetic and indefatigable birds that it is surprising how delicate and ‘feather-light' they are if we ever hold one in our hand - perhaps after the cat has brought it in, or one has flown into a window, and we try to help it recover. The poet gives us this sense of frailty, this lightness, with seven simple words, not a word too many, nor too few, not a word out of place. The arrangement of lines is well considered and the result is effective. We see the ‘wax-eye' sitting on the twig-like second and third lines which, perhaps, bend a little but do not break. This beautiful haiku has stayed with me from the time I first read it many days ago. It is the achievement of a writer whose eyes, heart and mind are open to things around them; of a poet who knows the craft of haiku.

2nd place

emptying the mouse trap
the tiny
drop of blood

Ah yes, the mouse: that beautiful small creature with a strong sense of family and nurture, of doing its best for its children, of living in balance with other creatures. All qualities which we humans usually admire, but there's a problem: the mouse wants to live in our space, share our resources. So we, even the most gentle of us, hunt it, trap it, kill it and declare good riddance. How many of us though would claim to never having misgivings when we hear the trap go off. After all, the mouse's heart beats as does ours; it bleeds as we do. In eight words this Issa-like haiku sets a scene and observes one ‘tiny' detail. Devoid itself of emotion, this haiku will stir emotion in those who read it and let themselves take it in.

3rd place

the creak in the wood pigeon's flight

The wood pigeon is a colourful handsome bird, a fast and athletic flier - so much so that its ‘creak' seems out of place. At times, we may not even notice it, there is so much else about the bird to admire. But creak it does and this poem stirs our curiosity. Where does the creak come from? Surely not from any unoiled joint. Perhaps from the movement of air across its wings? If so, are there other flying birds that creak? If not, why not, we may ask. There are things to ponder here, as in all good haiku. The writer presents this moment of observation simply in six words, eight syllables, no verb, no adjective, one line, with appropriate triple spaces to give the reader a little guidance. This careful arrangement works well for this poem. Again, the work of a poet who knows the craft of haiku.

4th place

Christmas dinner -
she cuts crosses
into the sprouts

This seems to be a northern hemisphere Christmas when Brussels sprouts would be in season. A woman cuts crosses into the stems of the sprouts, perhaps as she always does, so they cook evenly. The poet notices this tiny part of the dinner preparation and senses the special link it might have to this day of Christian celebration. Maybe the woman makes a special effort this day to get the crosses neat. Maybe this dinner is a much looked forward to family reunion. Yet, maybe too, this woman is preparing a meal she will eat alone. Perhaps she remembers very different Christmas days. This poem shows us a door and invites us in: come, sit at my table.

5th place

exhibit
the tuatara stares
at the class

With only a glance this haiku could easily be bypassed: the response to it could so easily be ‘so what?' A little more attention is rewarded. Brought to the classroom to be exhibited the tuatara, with its dark and wide-open-eyes and stern-looking countenance, stares at the class. Perhaps so penetrating is the stare that some in the class avert their eyes. The tables are turned, the students feel as though they are the exhibits. What goes through the tuatara's mind, what does it understand about this new experience, this new environment? We begin to see the world through the tuatara's eyes. In seven words, twelve syllables, the poet sees a scene and records a simple observation without emotion, comment or judgement. More than that first glance is well rewarded.

Winners

1) wax-eye, John O'Connor Christchurch
2) emptying the mousetrap, Jeanette Stace Wellington
3) the creak... John O'Connor Christchurch
4) Christmas dinner - André Surridge Hamilton
5) exhibit Nola Borrell Lower Hutt

Highly Commended

disinherited, Ernest J. Berry, Picton
drying , Catherine Mair, Katikati
first drops of rain, Anne Davidson, USA
manicure salon, Jeanette Stace, Wellington
op shop, Owen Bullock, Waihi

Commended

disused railway track, Sybil Robinson, Levin
first frost, Jim Kacian, USA
front door, Catherine Mair, Katikati
gulls preen, Lynne Frances, Raumati Beach
hide & ‘sneak', Catherine Mair, Katikati
in bed, Helen Bascand, Christchurch
indian summer, Catherine Mair, Katikati
snowstorm, Dora Sharpe-Davidson, Christchurch
spring cleaning, Timothy Russell, USA
wharenui, Sandra Simpson, Tauranga


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