Thursday, July 28, 2016

Romanian Monthly Kukai July 2016

Theme: using mulberry, summer kigo


Special Prize

dinner under the wild strawberries –
riddled with mulberries
the moon in bowls
Rodica P. Calota



First Place


the old white mulberry tree -
the starlings darkening
even its shadow

Vasile Conioși-Mesteșanu


Second Place



dinner under the wild strawberries –
riddled with mulberries
the moon in bowls

Rodica P. Calota


Third Place


back home -
sweeter than ever
the black mulberries

Argentina Stanciu


Fourth Place


mulberries on the sidewalk –
as sweet as ever the traces
of childhood

Grigore Chitul


Fifth Place



mulberry season -
washing non-stop
mother’s hands

Valeria Tamaș


Sixth Place



alone in the night -
the silk road goes over
a mulberry

Mihai Mateiciuc


ripe mulberries -
a glimpse of her breast through
the broken lace

Bea Hurmuz

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Results of the National Tanka Contest, First Edition, 2016

In the first edition of this contest, a special event in Romania, 32 authors took part.

The jury, formed by

Șerban Codrin,
Magdalena Dale and
Laura Văceanu,

has decided:


First Place
Ana Drobot, Bucharest

empty windows
allowing the sky
among the ruins –
I am looking for shades of blue
to fill your absence


Second Place
Grigore Chitul

the last ray
gliding beneath the eyelids
like a tear –
the sunset’s shadows
slowly fill the silence


Third Place
Ana Urma 

climbing the path
after the days and nights
of waiting -
in the irises filled with dew
a beam of light


Mention 1
Maria Tirenescu

white petals
scattered in the wind
fill the park today –
you promised that you would come
but I am all alone


Mention 2
Liliana Negoi

in the old shell
you can still hear
the sound of the sea -
otherwise, the entire house
is so quiet...


Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 451

First Place – Cezar-Florin Ciobîcă

in jail -
on a blank piece of paper the first
free verse


Second Place – Costin Iliescu

the ladder of the tower -
the old guard climbs
the steps in his daydreams



Third Place – Cezar-Florin Ciobîcă

big heat -
a grasshopper under the morning
glory


Mention – Rodica P. Calotă

spirogyra –
suddenly the rowers bring
the sky to the shore


Mention – Luminița Ignea

convalescence -
a blade of dandelion
rises out of the asphalt


Mention – Petru-Ioan Gârda

nursing home -
a butterfly struggling
on the closed window


Mention – Grigore Chitul

rain shower in the park -
the perfume of locust trees
left aside


Mention – Cezar-Florin Ciobîcă
 

birthplace -
the old lime tree spraying its scent
over the memories

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 450

First Place – Petru Ioan Gârda
grandma’s house –
only the morning glory
hanging on the clothes line


Second Place – Cezar Ciobîcă

after the storm -
lighted by pollen
the linden tree’s shadow


Second Place – Petru-Ioan Gârda

wedding guests on the train -
this time the money
is gathered by the godfather


Second Place – Constantin Iliescu


coffee grinder -
the crank scrolling
life’s movie


 
Third Place – Violeta Urdă

low quality oriental song in the fields -
hiding in a bag
a cricket


Mention – Marcela Ignătescu

crying with hiccups -
the waves swinging
the girl’s doll



Mention – Ana Urma

the hovel in the field -
no longer fitting in the windows
so much sun


Mention – Ion Cuzuioc

mowing the grass -
towards the sunset only the stars
on dad’s shirt


Mention – Corneliu Traian Atanasiu

full summer -
fiercer the burned leaf’s
smell under the acacias

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Comments on the Poems in Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 449

A few comments on the poems that were awarded prizes.

serving tea -
in the chipped cup
full moon

It is understandable that a custom is even more durable when the object used is older. A small chipped cup is preferred for its long-time fidelity and the stigma it wears from the harm it got while doing its job. The Japanese name for this uniformity and lack of symmetry combined with the mark of time is sabishia. After all, what is important is that, despite its chipping, the cup can reflect, as a wound, but equally faithfylly, the roundness of the moon.

a white butterfly
sitting on my chest -
I can barely breathe

No, this is not about a pressing weight. It is just the fear of not chasing him away. It is about mastering your emotion.


lullaby -
in the mother's rocking chair
a bouquet of poppies

Lullaby, a swing and a rocking chair. Are these not the same thing? Eloquent in their silence, the poppies sing a lullaby. Perhaps the same one as the mother does and that the son’s gesture recovers and pays it homage. The swinging is a kind of relief.


sun’s ascent -
bent towards the ground
the heavy spikes

    The tension is balanced. The spikes bend not just as a sign of homage to the sun but also as a sign that they cherish its gold.

scorching sun -
in the fountain’s bucket
the cool day

    The cool day and the scorching heat compensate for one another. And today they live in harmony.

orchards in flames -
everything started from
a ripe cherry

    The visual miracle proves to be one of the plants’ development. Of life that is not repressed.



fatigue -
on the floral dress
a live butterfly

We do not know if what is mentioned in the first part concerns the status of the artificial flowers, of the accidental fatigue of the butterfly or the temptation of the dress (for any observer that gives his philanderer’s attention).

deep water -
the whirl slowly absorbs
moonlight

    Allegorically speaking, the poem captures the meditation, the silent whirlwind of thoughts that slowly sip the moonlight and store it in deep inside the soul. The mirroring that steals from the depths.

only a brief respite -
over the scythes’ shine
grasshoppers’ jumps


The picture is wonderful. The respite of the workers unleashes the locusts. Which are there at the right place, just in front of the right mirror.

alone on the platform -
shaking off its flowers
a bitter cherry

What would loneliness be like without these almost reproving cues? The dismantled platform, the cherry tree in bloom with nobody to witness this, the bitterness of words.


a crippled man admiring
the arms of a tree -
it too has a stump!

    Empathy. Without discrimination and boundaries.

(Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Weekly Romanian Kukai no. 449

First Place – Valeria Tamaș

serving tea -
in the chipped cup
full moon

Second Place – Petru-Ioan Gârda

a white butterfly
sitting on my chest -
I can barely breathe

Third Place – Violeta Urdă

lullaby -
in the mother's rocking chair
a bouquet of poppies

Third Place – Argentina Stanciu

sun’s ascent -
bent towards the ground
the heavy spikes

Third Place – Elena Victoria Glodean


scorching sun -
in the fountain’s bucket
the cool day

Mention – Rodica Calotă

orchards in flames -
everything started from
a ripe cherry

Mention – Violeta Urdă

fatigue -
on the floral dress
a live butterfly

Mention – Iliescu Constantin

deep water -
the whirl slowly absorbs
moonlight

Mention – Elena Victoria Glodean

only a brief respite -
over the scythes’ shine
grasshoppers’ jumps

Mention – Ana Urma
alone on the platform -
shaking off its flowers
a bitter cherry

Mention – Vasilica Grigoraș

a crippled man admiring
the arms of a tree -
it too has a stump!

Friday, June 24, 2016

Bitter coffee

bitter coffee –
all newspapers
only about war


Cezar Florin Ciobica



This time I propose you a poem which is very simple to decipher, to understand, to feel. The coffee is naturally bitter. Some prefer to drink it unsweetened, others fix it with some sugar. Coffee, even the bitter one, is a habit for those who have time to enjoy it on a leisurely morning browsing through the newspapers. Pairing the two is a symbol of comfort, of life without hardships, worries and troubles. Whether or not it is part of our usual routine, we know this experience at least from novels and movies. It is part of what Luis Buñuel ironically called the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie.

The bitterness of the coffee is an agreeable one as long as the stories are more or less harmless. But when you mix the coffee only with news about the war, the habit is missed. The bitter coffee is no longer compensated by the sentimentality of the news. The bourgeois habit is undermined and compromised without anyone intending this, by the human pain and sorrow. And especially by a certain panic.

The words, as shown, are accompanied by an aura of connotations. And, the more their joining is brief, the more vibrant prove their centrifugal tendencies to evoke urgently the most varied contexts.

(Corneliu Traian Atanasiu)