The Year One Vote
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Cast your vote and win a free copy of Haiku Diem: The Best of Year One! Welcome to the voting page for the final three haiku to be included in the collection of the best haiku from Year One that I'll be publishing the fall. My illustrator Kerry Dennehy and I have already selected 47 pages worth of haiku for the book. We'd like three more for an even 50, and we'd like you to choose which ones they'll be! Simply look through the haiku on this page, and then vote for three haiku by emailing your choices to YearOneVote@HaikuDiem.com. By voting, you'll also enter yourself into a drawing for three free copies of the book when it's completed. Please, only one entry (three votes) per person! The deadline will be October 31. |
day 3
Loves me, loves me not. What remains in either case: the flower's plucked heart. day 9
the Las Vegas heat: a fullness through which I walk in an odd comfort day 25
morning light wakes me, a mother nudging forward her reluctant child day 30
my shadow deftly follows me around the room, beats me into chairs day 32
the color of joy like the flash of a trout caught only in glimpses day 40
chairs stacked seat back down raise limbs into the air in wooden surrender day 50
the robin's shadow pecks back up at it from the green depths of the grass day 52
a world of movement the birds' taut circles among lengthening tree trunks day 56
silent corner of the overgrown city field bulldozer at rest day 58
bright summer sidewalk hard candy covered with ants a gleaming gemstone day 62
the wind flows among the cornered houses, searching for open windows day 63
for open windows all is simple: let it in! including the night day 64
including the night, there are three boundless landscapes the wind flows among day 67
kitchen cabinet visible from easy chair... I count my stacked cups day 87
droplets on a leaf hold reflections of the world... an ant comes to drink day 88
caterpillar cased in crystal swims through dream of seas of buoyant light day 91
the curtained windows of homes along the dark street leak TV flicker day 98
warm night on the square spread of palm fronds overhead lit up from below day 99
one moment, two birds' swift circlings in taut pursuit: the next moment, gone day 102
across the pavement liquid with new rain, the snails make a run for it day 104
at the roots of trees motionless on their sidewalks: concrete's slow buckle day 109
raindrops one by one let go and streak down the glass leaving subtle trails day 154
plume of expelled breath followed by the slow dissolve of cold into light day 164
cold earth at the roots of each winter scene, every mind's destination day 177
another new year another cold morning fills the windows with light day 186
seldom trod corner of building walkway collects day's ration of warmth day 192
browned leaf on the walk only occasionally stirs as if alive day 206
metallic pleasure last of the ice cream licked off the back of the spoon day 227
concentric circles of downtown buildings around some unknown center day 230
woke in my plain room from dreams of a wilderness wet and verdurous day 234
where did that come from? while walking across the street the smell of crayons day 236
hanging with the birds lined up on their power line a pair of sneakers day 238
dewy grass pristine except for the darkened tracks ending at my feet day 245
gray light from gray skies gray streets flanked by gray pavement dark holes of puddles day 255
the snow covered field untrodden fragility reflecting the cold day 265
still entwined around the metal bars of the fence the long dead rose vine day 270
now the sun is back, the tulips open again to the world, like me day 287
bicyclist's close pass I hear the whir of the chain and one labored breath day 291
roadside weeds passing dull greens and browns and sudden sprays of bright flowers day 292
office worker ranks: so many shadows pressed back into castered chairs day 296
dreamed touch of a hand against my cheek that woke me was the sun's warmth day 306
night silence deepens; the refrigerator hum is all that remains day 312
single drop of rain falls gently against a cheek from two miles above day 313
a slow hard waking casting off like heaped blankets the weight of the night day 316
fallen willow leaves green and brown patchwork bearing the faint prints of feet day 325
foot shaped depression in the soft mud, flattened weeds, a crumpled aster day 338
behind the hung frame the whiter wall of the past so many nail holes day 341
that day on the trail from somewhere unseen: the sound, the smell of water day 352
under construction shell of a house built around empty window frames day 363
that concrete trashcan on the corner: marked, dirty... was it always there? |
copyright © 2011 by Freeman Ng