
At seventeen syllables, haiku is the shortest poem in world literature. It is now also the most popular form of poetry in the world, written in nearly every language. And yet, as haiku has spread internationally, one of the most important aspects of the tradition has largely been lost—the community of poets.
In Europe and the United States, haiku is often regarded as the domain of literary elites, but this is not the case in Japan, where haiku is deeply rooted in communal activity. Millions of amateur Japanese poets belong to haiku groups (clubs, really), which are sponsored by different “schools” of haiku, each with its own magazine. Most daily and weekly newspapers carry a haiku column featuring poems submitted by their subscribers, sometimes on the front page.
To help bring back this social dimension, we are inviting our readers to participate in the monthly Tricycle Haiku Challenge. Each month, moderator Clark Strand will select three poems to be published online, one of which will appear with a brief commentary. Each quarter, one of these poems also will appear in the print magazine alongside an extended commentary. In this way, we can begin to follow the seasons together—spring, summer, fall, and winter—and share the joy of haiku together as a community.
Requirements:
Anyone can submit haiku to the monthly challenge using the form below. To be considered for publication, your haiku must:
- Be written in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables:
Getting the syllables of a haiku to sit naturally inside of its seventeen-syllable form is the primary challenge. Each haiku is a word problem in search of a satisfying seventeen-syllable solution. - Contain the “season word” assigned for that month:
A haiku isn’t only a word problem. To the seventeen syllables the poet must add a turn of thought that results in more than seventeen syllables of meaning—along with a word that refers to one of the four seasons. How the poet uses “season words” like autumn sun or dew will typically determine the effectiveness of the poem.
Part of the reason haiku appeals to so many people is that its rules are simple and easy to follow, yet it can take a lifetime to master them. Ten million people currently write haiku in Japanese. There is no reason why millions can’t write haiku in English, too, provided they agree on the basics. The turn of thought you add to that simple formula of 5-7-5 syllables with a season word is entirely up to you.
Submissions close on the last day of the month at 11:59 pm ET, and the results will be posted the week after. Monthly submissions are anonymized and the winning poems are selected in a blind process.
To learn more about the history and principles of haiku, check out Clark Strand’s online course with Tricycle, “Learn to Write Haiku: Mastering the Ancient Art of Serious Play.”
This Month’s Season Word
Submit as many haiku as you please using the submission form below. Just be sure to include this month’s season word.
Winter season word: “Blanket”
in the land of dreams
my wife casts off her blanket
it is warmer there
Submit as many haiku as you please on the season word “blanket.” Your poems must be written in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively, and should focus on a single moment of time happening now.
Be straightforward in your description and try to limit your subject matter. Haiku are nearly always better when they don’t have too many ideas or images. So make your focus the season word* and try to stay close to that.
*REMEMBER: To qualify for the challenge, your haiku must be written in 5-7-5 syllables and include the word “blanket.”
Haiku Tip: Learn to Use Both Literal and Figurative Language!
This month’s sample poem was written when I woke one winter night to find that my wife had cast off her covers. There had been an unexpected snowstorm, and I’d let the fire get low. It must have been 50 degrees in our bedroom. I was struck by the thought that her experience of the dream world was so complete it made her immune to the cold. The season word is “blanket,” and it is used literally.
Here is another haiku, written a few years earlier when I saw some winter carp frozen beneath the ice.
the carp seem serene
beneath their double blanket
cold water and ice
A Japanese poet would classify this as a haiku on the season word “winter carp,” since the fish are the visual focus of the poem. “Blanket” is there, but it is being used figuratively rather than literally and is therefore not the season word of the poem.
Here is another “winter carp” poem—this one by the contemporary Japanese haiku master Mayuzumi Madoka. The translation is hers.
Small ember of coal
is staying under water
A carp in winter
No ice is mentioned, but it is clear from the words “carp in winter” that the water must be cold. The season word is being used literally, but the treatment of the word is anything but. To refer to a “small ember of coal” in this context means that a figurative comparison is being made.
Madoka compares the orange carp beneath the water to a banked coal glowing faintly from under the ash in a brazier. The suggestion, admittedly somewhat subtle, is that the water is helping to keep it lit through the winter, just as you would bury the coals of a brazier to make them last until morning before turning in for bed.
Madoka is one of Japan’s most influential living haiku masters, but her style of verse would have been rejected by early 20th-century haiku editors who favored a more literal approach. Shiki and the generation of poets who followed him believed that a haiku should offer an objective description of nature, avoiding metaphor or other forms of figurative language.
In the hands of Shiki’s successor Takahama Kyoshi, this style resulted in great masterpieces. Kyoshi and his followers were able to produce brilliant turns of thought using pure imagery. But there were some things you couldn’t say in this kind of haiku, which favored a more masculine, emotionally detached approach to poetry.
Some poets rebelled, and by the 1970s, haiku had undergone a revolution that built off the precision of the Shiki School but was willing to introduce other elements in order to broaden the range of expression in haiku. Madoka is the heir to that newer, more emotionally nuanced style of verse.
A note on blankets: Season word editor Becka Chester has offered an in-depth description of this season word from the human affairs category for winter:
“From evidence discovered in ancient tombs around the globe, our first blankets were made of animal skins, clumps of grass, and woven reeds. A 14th-century Flemish textile weaver named Thomas Blanquette may be the source for the word ‘blanket.’ Before the invention of his heavy woolen fabric, most people slept under heaps of animal hides.
“When we sleep, our breathing slows and blood circulation diminishes, dropping our body temperature from 98 degrees to around 96 or 97 degrees. Unless they are electric, blankets do not generate warmth; the heat from the person beneath it remains contained, separated from the cold air outside. Wrapped in a blanket, many feel a sense of protection and can relax for a better night’s sleep. A recent sleep study of weighted blankets indicates that, when beneath one, the body produces higher levels of serotonin, a hormone that aids in sleep regulation.”
December’s Winning Poem:
Winter season word: “Night Comes Early”
the night comes early
to swallow the final bait
the mouth opens wide
— Jesus Santos

You can find the honorable mentions, additional commentary, and December’s haiku tips here.
Previous Winners
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