By Sandra Simpson

This text was written for the NZPS to distribute to students planning to enter the 2026 NZ Poetry Society Junior Haiku Contest. However, it may also be of use to poets, particularly those new to haiku, intending to enter the adult contest. My thanks to the poets, and in two cases to the poets’ literary executors, for their permission to use their work in this way. All poems have been previously published.                            

1: Don’t use capital letters at the start of a line, unless it’s a proper noun (eg, place name). Animal names (dog, cat, etc), plant names (rose, birch, etc), etc are not proper nouns.

2: Don’t end with a full stop, it’s not necessary. A haiku is a moment in the stream of time. No capital to start, no full stop at the end.

3: Write in the present tense – haiku is what is happening NOW.

4: Haiku in English are generally in 3 lines with a format of short line-long line-short line. There’s no need to count syllables. Can you say the haiku in one breath? If not, it’s too long.

5: Almost always a haiku has 2 parts – a fragment (1 line) and a phrase (2 lines). The ‘leap’ or ‘spark’ between the 2 parts is what makes a haiku interesting for the reader. The separation between the 2 parts may be shown by punctuation: an em dash –; or an ellipsis …; being the most common. This punctuation helps the reader know where to pause before continuing. Note: Haiku are not a list of 3 things and are too small for 3 ideas. Two ideas are plenty.

6: Compare and contrast is a common – and useful – haiku technique, eg, shells on the beach and stars in the sky. These things are not the same, but if you think about it, one may remind you of the other (swarming ants/children at break time; the sun/a dandelion). See the previous point about ‘leap’ and ‘spark’.

7: It’s important to use our 5 senses when writing haiku, sight being the most common. But keep all your senses alert for haiku moments and, if you can, use another sense, as well as vision (see following examples).

8: Haiku are about the natural world and its seasons, eg, daffodils and birth of lambs = spring; ice-cream and swimming = summer; pipfruit (apples, pears) and coloured leaves = autumn; wood fires and snow/frost = winter. Human activities are okay too, eg, sports (muddy pitches in winter/ fielding at cricket or softball in summer), family life (chores, games, etc.), school life (exams, dances).

9: Use ordinary words (see following examples). Don’t be ‘poetic’!

10: Write about something real. Something that you have seen or experienced. This will make it real for the reader too.

11: Edit your work. When you have written a haiku you like, put it somewhere safe and don’t read it again for a few days. When you do read it again, try and see how it might be improved. Are there too many words (delete adjectives and adverbs)? Is it over-descriptive (see the following examples)? There can be a surprise, but it shouldn’t be written like a joke. Think about every word you use. Are the lines in the right order? What happens if you put the last line first, or the first line last? It shouldn’t explain everything you experienced (see the following examples).

Here are some examples of haiku by poets from New Zealand (and one from Australia) who have all chosen their words carefully. None have stated the season – it makes a haiku more interesting if you can imply the season with your word choices. If you are writing, for example, about swimming at the beach on a hot day, there’s no need to write ‘summer’ anywhere in the haiku, the reader will get it. Please take your time reading these poems, visualising the scene and reading the comments. Haiku should be read slowly.

lavender stalk
the weight of one
white butterfly

André Surridge

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. The reader is being asked to consider the weight of a butterfly. Is it enough to bend or not bend a lavender stalk? The reader gets to choose using their own experience. We also have the scent of lavender to enjoy (implied, not stated). Why has the poet chosen a white butterfly instead of, say, a monarch butterfly? White butterflies are pests to vege gardeners but the poet has done something different by observing this unwanted insect in a moment of beauty. Spring or summer (when lavender flowers).

honeysuckle
the laughter of children
climbing a fence

Sue Courtney

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. Or is it? I find this haiku to be almost a circle – the honeysuckle is climbing the fence, and so are the children. What do you think? We have the sweet scent of the flower and the sound of children’s laughter but those and the fence are the only facts we get. Where is this fence? What’s it made from? How high is it? What’s on the other side? How many children are there? How old are they? Why are they climbing the fence? The reader can come into the poem through these (and other) questions and ‘complete’ it with their own answers. Spring (when honeysuckle flowers).

backyard cricket
Dad and I pick up
the kitchen window

Cyril Childs

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. Capitals on personal nouns. Surprise in line 3. There are 2 loud sounds (neither stated – the whack of the ball and the crash of the window). A good example of a humorous haiku. What day is it if Dad has time to play cricket in the backyard, or maybe it’s after work or a holiday? What is Mum going to say? Was she home when it happened? Who was batting and who was bowling? We get to choose what led up to this moment and what happens next. The poet has delved into his childhood memories for this haiku. You can – and should – write about things that happen to you. Summer (when cricket is played).

carnival day
candy-floss kiss
on the ghost train

Ron C. Moss

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. Have you been to an A&P show or a fair? If you have, you’ll be able to hear the noises of the rides – the motors, the music and the squeals of the people on the rides – and smell the hot dogs, diesel, crushed grass, etc. How do you feel when you’re amongst the side-shows or on a ride? Have you eaten candy-floss? Have you been on a ghost train? Even if you haven’t, you can imagine that it’s supposed to be scary. Is a kiss scary? Whoever is receiving the kiss will be able to taste the candyfloss on the other person’s lips and feel the kiss (sticky!). Notice that the poet hasn’t used the words ‘the sound of’, ‘the taste of’, or ‘the feel of’, but we have experienced all those things in this poem. Summer (when shows/carnivals happen).

dry grass . . .
the fencepost cat tracks
something doing something

Sandra Simpson

The first line gives a sense of the season and the ellipsis slows the reader down ready for what’s happening in the ‘phrase’ part of the haiku (the next 2 lines). The poet can’t see what’s in the grass and what it’s up to (the reader gets to choose the creature and imagine what it’s doing) but can figure out what’s going on by watching the cat on the fencepost. At this moment the cat is not a pampered pet, but a lion’s cousin (we ‘see’ that, we are not told it). It has prey in its sights, its muscles are flexed, and it’s ready to pounce. The layout of the poem allows each line to be longer than the last. Late summer or autumn (when grass is dry).

to-do list
the pear
ripens

Patsy Turner

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. Adults know that a list is a good way to keep track of where you need to be, when and what needs doing. For most people this list never seems to get any shorter and if this list is like mine, some things don’t get done and so they go on tomorrow’s list. How do we know the poet has a long, busy list? Because it has been compared/contrasted to a process that takes time (ripening). Will the pear be eaten? Or will it become over-ripe and go ‘off’? If the reader chooses the former, it may mean the list will also be ‘eaten’, ie, finished. At least, until a new one starts. Can you smell the ripening pear? Autumn (when pears are ripe).

deep frost
the warmed handle
of a grocery trolley

Jenny Polstra

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. “deep frost” tells us it’s not just cold, but very cold. This is then contrasted to the warm handle. (Can you feel the warmth and the shape of the handle?) Who last used the trolley? Young, old? It must be a busy store for the warmth to still be there on a cold day. If we think that the person who uses the trolley after the poet also feels the warmth and then also passes it on, we can imagine a series of strangers ‘meeting’ all through the day. In these 9 words there is room for the reader to make their own story. Winter (when we get frosts).

morepork –
a rat slips into
the moonlit stream

Margaret Beverland

Pause at the end of line 1 (em dash), no capital for the bird name. Have you heard a morepork/ruru calling at night? This haiku takes place in moonlight, does that help us understand what the morepork is doing? As well as ‘seeing’ the action, we can hear the morepork call, and the small splash of the rat. An extra story hiding here is that rats (introduced to this country) have a terrible effect on our native birds. The morepork is turning the tables. Where is this taking place? In the country or in the city? What time of year? The reader gets to choose. Any season.

bush track
a stick many dogs
have fetched

Tony Beyer

No punctuation after the first line but a pause is there. Can you picture the track through the bush? It’s easy to do and puts us ‘right into’ the poem. The haiku is about a common event, a dog fetching a stick … but this stick hasn’t been thrown, the dog has found it on its own and brought it to its human. How big is the stick? How big is the dog? What sort of dog is it? What time of day/time of year? What’s the weather like? The reader gets to choose all these things. How does the poet know that ‘many dogs’ have fetched the same stick? (Sight sense.) Besides the sound of the poet’s feet and maybe some bird song, we might also be able to hear the dog snuffling or even barking. The reader can join the poem and add these details. Any season.

Editor’s note: Sandra Simpson is an award-winning haiku poet who lives in Tauranga, New Zealand. She has edited Haiku NewZ since its inception in 2006, and is a nominating editor for the annual Red Moon Anthologies. Sandra is the judge of the 2026 NZPS Junior Haiku Contest.