Stav Poleg




Haikus inspired by the macarons of Patisserie Madeleine, Edinburgh  

Here’s Fleur d’Oranger,
Saffron Pistache, Sakura.
Instead of breakfast.

Fleur d’Oranger

The orchard’s wingspan.
A child is hula hooping
in the evening sun.

Saffron Pistache

City somersaults.
I’m taking the yellow bike
over the river.

Thé au Jasmin

Walking in circles,
the woman pushing the pram,
the year of the horse.


Dark flamingo moon.
The sea’s humming in purple,
a ring in my palm.

Choco Poir

Asleep in your coat,
the train’s crossing an orchard.
The wine glass trembles.


Edinburgh winter.
The city breathes inwards
moon palpitations.


The deepest of green.
Glass beads scattered on the grass,
making a necklace.



Stav Poleg’s graphic-novel shorts Dear Penelope   (with artist Laura Gressani) has been acquired recently by the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. Her poetry is featured in the anthology Be the First to Like This: New Scottish Poetry (Vagabond Voices).

Circles was created as part of the Clarence Street Poets’ Hai-Caroons  exhibition at the Poetry Patisseire in Edinburgh, August 2014.


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Violette Rose-Jones




No Neighbours that We Know of Around Here

my husband smiles in his sleep I could spend the rest of my life here then he rolls over, settling back to slow, calm breathing. this house is echoing-empty. wind rips  up the valley, up this hill, beneath the house. it brings the smell of  paperbark swamp, plays loose floorboards like piano keys. I am awake and getting more so …

wide blue morning
outside the kitchen door
a fresh cow skull




Violette Rose-Jones is a widely published Japanese form poetrix. She is perpetually studying and lives to write. She is married, with a teenage son and is widely known to be owned by her pet mice.

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Caroline Skanne





shadow boxing
will I come out
a better person




crimson leaved …
the Japanese maple
becomes my sunset



new moon
knows the secret
of letting go




Caroline Skanne is a poet, originally from Sweden, educated in London. She lives with her family in a cottage near the river Medway in Kent. When she is not writing she enjoys photography, mudlarking, bird watching, foraging, gardening, yoga and martial arts. Her short poems have appeared online and in printed journals most recently including Moonbathing: a journal of women’s tanka and brass bell: a haiku journal. Find more at – @CarolineSkanne and

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John Hawkhead





gravel in my knees
from the pilgrimage to you
your gentle tweezers
gradual rain
pattering the willow leaves
her hand slips from mine
purple night clouds
buffeting under moonlight
her lingering scent
under winter clouds
the old rook pecks at bent straw
through the scarecrow’s hat
an acorn
split from cup to tip
the newborn’s hare lip



John Hawkhead is a writer of haiku and other short poetry forms. His work has been published all over the world in small press magazines and the Internet. His book of poetry and haiku Witness is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iTunes.

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Pijush Kanti Deb


Three Haiku


Diplomats can have
a mango or a sorrel
never a jack-fruit.


A flower gets
its beauty and fragrance
from a blissful heart.


Two pockets transact
hidden export and import
under a table.




Pijush Kanti Deb is an Associate Professor in Economics and has had more than 120 poems and haiku  accepted or published by Indian and international publishers since June 2013.  Publications include Tajmahal review, Camel Saloon Blog Spot, E-pao.Net, Dead Snake Blog, Spot, Down in the Dirt, Poetic Monthly Magazine, Poems and Poetry Blog, Gean Tree Haiku Journal,
The Voice Project ,Calvary Cross, Pennine Ink and The Artistic Muse.

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Angelee Deodhar


Three Haiku


under pond ice
colored maple leaves-
candy brittle


dawn song-
the Alsation catches a red ball
in mid air


my long shadow lost within
the trees



Angelee Deodhar is an eye surgeon by profession, and a haiku poet and artist from India. Her haiku/haiga have been published internationally in various books, journals and on the internet.

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Andrew Pidoux




20 Haiku and Senryu


The candles glimmer,
The tables are paved with wax:
We’ll be buried soon


Where is the wildlife?
Oh I forgot – it’s London.
We are the wildlife


A stuffed fox for lunch?
But it’s just a cabinet
In a dark old pub


Skull and crossbones flag
Flapping on a narrow boat –
Backwater pirate


Deer in the clearing,
Why does your candelabrum
Cast so much strange light?


The river flowing
Through my neighbour’s back garden
Is actually mine


The pond in that lake
Can only be seen by those
Wearing blue glasses


A man with no head
Approached me this afternoon
Though it was near dark


The dream of childhood –
To be bigger than your dad,
Quicker than your mum


I used to be fat
But I got lost in a fridge,
Came back out immune


My orange juice is
A sort of microcosm –
I don’t know what of


Sunset at the ranch:
The whole sky cracks an egg,
Unboils itself


My shoes stare at me,
Reflecting my gloomy face
Like a bright idea


Thread me this needle;
My eyes see camels ok
But not other eyes


No one is as free
As the street cleaner at dawn,
Sweeping up our lives


I saw an old fox
Sniffing round your bins again –
What are you hiding?


They fired me. But why?
Perhaps I was too honest
Regarding their lies


Heat wave in London –
A naked businesswoman
Loses her job too


The ranch fences twang—
Roadrunner making music
On barbed harpsichords


A life like a dream
Ends by tumbling from a roof
Without a pillow



Andrew Pidoux is the author of Year of the Lion (Salt, 2010), and the winner of an Eric Gregory Award (1999). Recent haiku of his have appeared in Haiku Quarterly, Monkey Kettle, Noctua, Paper Wasp and Time Haiku.

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