2021 Award Winners

2021 Award Winners(Word document)

M-0

花ばたけ いぬとぴょんぴょん かけぬける Cleo Ryan, Fox Mill Elementary
[天] Bouncy! Both the diction and the imagery of this verse are quite lovely: かけぬける fits well with 花ばたけ, and ぴょんぴょん sounds like a perfect haigon 俳言 (a word especially suited to haikai 俳諧 poetry but too casual for most traditional waka 和歌). By using the particle と, as opposed to の or が, the verse foregrounds the experience of the poet, who remains the implicit subject of the verse.
かいがらや なみにながされ 夏の海 Corin Gregory, Fox Mill Elementary
[地] This poem does an excellent job of “telescoping” outward: we begin with a seashell, a small object at the mercy of nature that is washed away by the waves as the poet gazes out upon the vast ocean.
弟と 金の野原で トンボとり Len Hoenig, Fox Mill Elementary
[人] Joyous summer memories! The phrase トンボとり in the last ku is especially well suited to haiku.
M-2
そよ風に もも色の花 まいおちる Amiliya Smith, Cooper Middle School
[天] Excellent use of the compound verb まいおちる, which connects semantically to the gentle breeze of the first ku. This gentle breeze is further brought to life through the euphony between まいおちる and the もも in the second ku, and the overall effect is one of softness.
うみのたび きしべのなみが あいずする Claire Kim, Cooper Middle School
[地] A lovely trip to the beach! I am fascinated by the idea that the waves (なみ) lapping at the shore are “signaling” (あいず) something.
はなはさく あたたかいそら しきかわる Matthew Kim, Cooper Middle School
[人] The conception of this verse is very good, and minor adjustments to the first and third ku would help it flow more smoothly. The use of the particle は is somewhat difficult to follow unless we know what flower you are talking about; I suggest amending the first line to something like はなさいて.

J-1

みずのおと ちいさなくもの あめがふる Jou Barzdukas, Falls Church High School
[天] Excellent work! This poem generates interest on multiple levels. First, the first ku is the same as the final ku in Basho’s famous furuike poem (古池や / かわず飛び込む / 水の音); this puts the reader in mind of a strategy called honka-dori 本歌取り, in which a line from an older
poem is incorporated into a new one. I don’t know if that’s what you were trying to do, but that’s not important: as a reader I derive enjoyment from attempting to make aesthetic connections between this verse and Basho’s. The strategy can be dangerous, since it is possible that readers will interpolate connections that you the poet don’t want to be made. Indeed, this can happen even if you had no intention of using Basho’s poem as a honka 本歌 (“foundation poem”): the Japanese poetic lexicon is saturated with words and phrases that, in some cases, boast more than a millennium of continuous use.
The second thing interesting here is くも, which you write in kana. I read the line as meaning “a small spider” (kumo 蜘蛛), who becomes the subject of the verse and is getting doused by raindrops. This works in classical Japanese because の can function as a subject marker just like が in modern Japanese. On the other hand, it is possible to take kumo as “cloud” (雲) and construe the subject of the verse to be the speaker, who looks up and gets doused with rain.
はながさく あめおちながら いろがでる Gen Konowe, Cooper Middle School
[地] Interesting choice to use the verb 落ちる instead of the more common furu 降る. The sound of the /お/ in おちる creates a nice euphony (音調) with the /あ/ in あめ, and there is a long history in Japanese poetry of slightly unexpected diction of exactly this sort.
In fact, the medieval poet Kyōgoku Tamekane 京極為兼 even used your verb ochiru to describe the wind (kaze 風) “falling” onto the plains during a storm:
松を払ふ matsu o harau Sweeping down the pines
風が裾野の kaze ga susono no The wind falls upon the grass
草に落ちて kusa ni ochite Of the plains below,
夕だつ雲に yuudatsu kumo ni And in gathering twilight clouds,
雨競うなり ame kiou nari Rain races to fall.
風の音 どんぐりおちる 葉がきれい Mateo Albolote, Cooper Middle School
[人] The conception here is very nice: the poet hears the wind, which blows through the trees and causes acorns to fall; while 音 is explicitly subordinated to 風, the syntagmatic progression of the verse – どんぐり is the very next word – strongly suggests is that the falling acorns also produce a sound.
おこるあめ もってくるはす おだやかだ Marta Karpovich, St. Paul’s School for Girls
[客] Intriguing! The verb おこる here is curious; I’m not entirely clear as to what you mean by okoru ame – is it ‘flourishing’ rain (興っている雨), ‘angry’ rain (怒っている雨), rain that will ‘occur’ (起こる雨)? Thinking over the possibilities creates an interesting reading experience, and the image of a lotus (はす) being “brought” is quite lovely. Is the rain bringing the lotus to you?
はがみどり きいろにへんか いきをつく Sadie Leasure, Cooper Middle School
[客] Very interesting choice to use the kango (漢語) word へんか [変化] as opposed to かわる in the second ku. The effect is to give the whole verse a bold, declarative quality.
こうようの しのぐあめけり ひやひやと Dimash Adikhan, Falls Church High School
[客] Each ku contains nice imagery, and the choice of vocabulary is very good. I’m not sure exactly what you mean by あめけり in the second ku, but I’m going to guess it’s 雨を凌ぐ鳧 – “a duck sheltering from the rain.” If so, changing the order to あめしのぐけり would add clarity.
Or perhaps you were trying to use the classical inflecting suffix (jodōshi 助動詞) けり, in which you would need to attach it to the “pre-ます” or continuative form (ren’yōkei 連用形) of the verb しのぐ, i.e. あめしのぎけり, “(I) took shelter from the rain.”
In the first ku, the word こうよう is one of my favorites. It is a kango 漢語 word, but means the same thing as the wago 和語 equivalent もみじば. In fact, both こうよう and もみじ ば (or just もみじ) are legitimate pronunciations of the kanji compound 紅葉・黄葉. Which pronunciation you choose is entirely up to you, though in classical Japanese poetry, もみじば or もみじ would generally be preferable. This is a very important word (and an important seasonal phenomenon) in classical Japanese literature. There is even a chapter in the 11th century masterpiece The Tale of Genji titled momiji no ga 紅葉賀, “A Celebration of Autumn Leaves.”
雪嵐 白敷き詰める 美しい Anson Zhong, Falls Church High School
[客] Wintry! There are two common words for “snowstorm” in Japanese, the other being fubuki 吹雪 or oofubuki 大吹雪. The word you chose, 雪嵐, evokes in my imagination scenes of a blizzard sweeping down from icy mountains to blanket the plains below.

J-2

すなはまや ほしをみつめる うみのなみ Timothy Asady Kany, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[天] Starry! This poem puts me in mind of a famous poem by Basho about the Milky Way stretching over the sea out to Sado Island:
荒海や araumi ya A rough sea –
佐渡に横たふ Sado ni yokotau Stretching across to Sado Isle 天の川 Amanogawa The Milky Way
枯れ野から 冷たい月が 地を照らす Ryan Carmody, Oakton High School
[地] A very nice poem indeed: each ku fits together well. Withered fields (枯れ野) embody the aesthetic of sabi 寂 and appear frequently in both medieval waka 和歌 and early-modern haiku. The second ku provides a synesthetic description. Synesthesia (kyōkankaku 共感覚) refers to the blending of senses that are usually separate: while we receive the moonlight through the visual sense, its silvery glow strikes us as cold.
ながれぼし やわらかいゆき とぶてんし Trish Nguyen, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[人] This verse seems an interesting blend of imagist and symbolist approaches to poetry. The lovely word ながれぼし is a seasonal word for autumn, and we imagine its angelic light coursing through a darkened sky as a light snow falls. Structurally, each ku is a noun or noun phrase; this should give the verse a strong staccato rhythm, but the reader glides easily from one line to the next. I think this is because of the gentle /i/ sounds in the second ku – the word yawarakai seems, in its enunciation, to embody the very state it describes!
やなぎちる つめたいかぜや ふゆちかし Sophia Wells, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] Winter is coming. Good use of the classical inflection ちかし in the third ku. There is an anticipatory quality to the verse, and the phenomena in the first and second ku lead the poet to the realization expressed in the third.
風がふき はるがきたなと おもう日々 Joshua Parderlikes, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] This is in intriguing verse for two reasons. First, the expression 来たな〜 is a wonderfully contemporary idiom, and this use of な is a good example of incorporating truly modern speech in a traditional poetic form. Second, the second and third ku are grammatically enjambed – the particle と is bound tightly to the verb おもう in the third. Enjambment (ku matagari 句跨がり) of this sort is very common (though I cannot think of an example using ~ と思う in this way), and the two ku work as a perfectly grammatical sentence. You might consider changing the first ku to 風吹いて (or 風吹きて, if you want to use the standard classical inflection), but this is not grammatically necessary. [地・人]
あきのつき とりがとびさる はがおちる Michael Ortiz, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] Solemn! This verse echoes many in the tradition that seek the aesthetic of sabi 寂.
夏祭り 凄く楽しい 忘れない Vincent Ho, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] In this verse, each ku stands essentially on its own, giving the verse a staccato rhythm. You might think about what difference it would make if you switched the first and third ku, resulting in 忘れない、凄く楽しい、夏祭り. It’s not a question of one being “better” than the other, only of the kind of grammatical connection you want to make between the ku (in the latter version, the second and third ku form a single phrase, 凄く楽しい夏祭り).
春の雨 桜の花と きれい草 Mihike Dutt, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Lush and floral (ikuiku seisei 郁々青々)!
寒い日や ツララの終わり 花と草 Jerry Mao, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Very nice evocation of the transitional period from winter, a time of icicles, to spring, a time of flowers and grasses.
春ピンク 桜の花が フワフワと Ben McDannell, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Soft and warm! The use of と at the end of the third ku was nicely done and shows your understanding of 擬態語.
赤狐 落ち葉で踊る 気分だね Jodi Zi En Tay, Falls Church High School
[客] What interesting imagery! The red color of the fox jibes nicely with the word 落ち葉, which as an autumnal image suggest hues of red and brown. Well done.
たべたいや スイカがあかい おいしいよ James Inaki Gabo, Falls Church High School
[客] A summertime picnic!
はなかいか たいよううかぶ ついにはる Rose Anderson, Falls Church High School
[客] The imagery here – blossoms and sunshine – does a good job of suggesting spring. I would consider rephrasing hana kaika 花開花 to hana saite 花咲いて, that way the first ku connects to the second a little better.
風の声 優しい空や 笑いけり Annie Bai, Oakton High School
[客] Excellent job utilizing the classical inflecting suffix けり. The imagery in this verse is interesting, though I’m struggling as to whether it is the poet who is smiling/laughing at the sky, or the gentle sky that is being personified (gijinka 擬人化).

J-3

ポタポタと 吊るしたツララ 溶けている Alana Nii, Thomas Jefferson High School
[天] Excellent – the euphony (音調) of the second ku is wonderful: tsurushita tsurara. Interestingly, the etymology (gogen 語源) of the word 吊す is seemingly unrelated to that of ツ ララ (which comes from つらつら and describes a glimmering icy surface), but the resonance is beautiful nonetheless.
夏草で ダラダラの我 ラムネ飲む Keilani Ito, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[地] Excellent conception and creative use of diction. In haiku, the word 夏草 is likely to immediately call to mind Basho’s famous poem on the ruins of Hiraizumi 平泉:
夏草や natsukusa ya In summer grasses
つはものどもが tsuwamono-domo ga Remnants of dreams 夢の跡 yume no ato Of warriors from long ago
Your use of 我, a rather stiff and old-fashioned word, together with distinctly modern and casual words like ダラダラ and ラムネ is also lovely.
めのかゆみ いつしかかいか やえざくら Nobuto Koga, Oakton High School
[人] This poem is interesting, and foregrounds a springtime experience many people can relate to – eyes from pollen! The middle ku sounds a bit like a newspaper headline, with the implied verb su(ru) left off the kango word kaika 開花. I might be inclined to switch the first and third ku (i.e. begin with やえざくら and end with めのかゆみ.
いろのまい くるまのながれ あめのよる Cameron Hilleary, Oakton High School
[客] Interesting! I am imagining seeing a string of cars, their white headlights and red taillights “dancing” down the freeway on a rainy night. Excellent use of imagery.
夏祭り 手をつなぐかな うつくしい Dominique Robinson, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] The imagery of this verse is nice
さくらさき グローブのほこり はたくあさ Ken McKeever, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] Spring cleaning!
クリスマス 暴風雪や 神秘的 Justin Andrews, Falls Church High School
[客] Stormy! Can Santa see his way through the blizzard? 赤鼻のトナカイ!
こんねんど くつうとくのう むだづかい William Salisbury, Falls Church High School
[客] This is probably the first time I’ve heard the word “fiscal/academic year” (年度) in a poem! The words 苦痛 and 苦悩 are almost anti-poetic, but they capture undeniably the hardship of this past academic year. Indeed, the diction of this verse makes a strong artistic (or anti-artistic) statement, seeming to say “this was no year for art.”
春の日に 僕のきぶんが よくなるや Christian Popham, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] Cheerful! Spring is here, and summer is right around the corner!
なつまつり あせがながれる なつのよる Ann Oiki, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] Hot summer nights!
はがおちる かぜにふかれて とびまわる Aanya Gupta, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] Lovely conception, and the verb とびまわる is especially poetic. There is a great deal of movement in this verse: the falling of the leaf, its being blown about by the wind, and its dancing up through the air.
花が咲く 彼女の笑顔 夜桜や John Kim, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Romance on a springtime night! Usually, the や is not used in the final ku, but the overall sense of the verse is charming indeed.
花がさく 希望うまれる 蝶がとぶ Michelle Lin, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Lovely summer imagery, with a personal touch! Gliding from the /オ/ in kibō 希望 to the /ウ/ in うまれる is a bit difficult, and I might be inclined to replace 希望 with nozomi 望み.
さくらかな おちてしまうや さくらんぼ Michelle Jang, Oakton High School
[客] This verse has real artistic promise, and it was an interesting choice to include さくら and さくらんぼ in the first and last lines. Usually, the exclamatory kana comes in the last ku. I might suggest changing さくらかな to さくらばな (桜花) in the first ku, which goes better with the verb 落ちる in the second.
しろいゆき かぞくのじかん 火のそばに Sara Posz, Oakton High School
[客] Warmth, both literal and metaphorical!

J-4

夏の夜の コオロギの歌 寝たいけど Suwan Lee, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[天] Excellent: the first ku glides effortlessly into the second, and the imagery is perfect for haiku!
春が来た タンポポ咲いて 朗らかに Aneri Shah, Thomas Jefferson High School
[地] Exquisite spring scene! タンポポ is a very good haiku word – it is a flower too ordinary to capture the attention of most classical poets, but embodies precisely the joyous beauty of everyday life so often poeticized in haiku. I also very much like the word 朗らか in the third ku; while it could be applied to the speaker of the poem, its most natural reading is as a displaced adverbial modifier of the verb 咲く, which in turn implies a charming personification of the dandelions.
ほしとつき よるはさびしい うしはとぶ Stacey Nguyen, Hayfield Secondary School
[人] Creative! I am fascinated by the idea of ushi (牛?) flying! Is this a dreamscape? Is the ushi perhaps the Herd Boy (牛郎) of the Tanabata 七夕 legend? I’m going to exercise reader’s prerogative and assume that on a starlit night, the lonesome Herd Boy flies to his love, Weaver Maid (織女).
寒い息 白い沈黙 冬景色 Bertram Liu, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] Abstraction within the concrete! The second ku exemplifies a kind of synesthesia (kyōkankaku 共感覚) in literature.
ひまわりと そうめんとプール 今は夏 Gabrielle Walters, Hayfield Secondary School
[客] Imagistic! Except for the third ku, every word in this poem is a concrete noun. The variety is intriguing: a flower, a food, and the pool. The first of these is universally “summery,” the second relies on some knowledge of Japanese gastronomic culture, and the third puts us squarely in the modern urban and suburban world.
原を見て ヒマワリが咲く 夏が来る Carolin Keiwel, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Pastoral! The sunflowers provide a perfect image of the approaching summer.
風が吹く 果てしない風 潮かおる Marissa Hirakawa, Thomas Jefferson High School
[客] Fresh – if you like the smell of sea salt! A constant breeze carries to our senses a the cool, briny, ocean air.
J-5
大雨や 勇気の試し 飛ぶ小鳥 Michelle Long, Falls Church High School
[天] Excellent conception and creative use of diction. The second ku in particular is ingenious, and the verse calls vividly to mind a tiny creature braving the pouring rain.
夏休み うちあげ花火 思い出に Michael Volkman, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[地] Excellent conception – I am reminded of childhood summers of long ago! The use of に in the third ku is interesting, as it blurs the distinction between events of the external world and events that unfold in one’s own memory.
春の空 春灯下げる 光撒く Tryn Dunne, Falls Church High School
[人] Wonderful scene, and the third ku is particularly poetic: “spreading” the light is a lovely and evocative phrase.
風が吹く 風鈴の歌 平和な日 Tyler Nguyen, Falls Church High School
[客] Peaceful! The extent to which the verse “enacts” the scene it describes might be enhanced by replacing the compound 平和, which has a somewhat formal feel, with the wago (和語) na adjective のどか.
星夜より 日月の愛 眩しいや Marisa Guerrero, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] This was an ambitious poem! The use of Sinitic (kango 漢語) vocabulary in both the first and second ku gives this verse an strong, austere feel, and the second ku in particular is very interesting. The reader is inclined to meditate on the meaning on the verse: what exactly is “the love of the sun and the moon?” Is it brighter or more dazzling than (より) the starry night? Or does it come from (より) the starry night? Whatever the interpretation, the imagery is beautiful: starlight, heavenly bodies, and a glimmer that “dazzles the eyes” – this is the basic meaning of 眩しい, and is even reflected in the kanji (目+玄).
水の上 紫の藤 絵をつくる Rachel Wang, Lake Braddock Secondary School
[客] Purple! The third ku in this verse permits at least two interpretations: the purple wisteria is painting a picture dangling languidly over the water, or the poet herself is painting such a picture.

C-2

花よりも 遅い芽吹きの 緑かな Rui Min, Georgetown University
[天] Vernal! The grammar here is very good. The poem is tightly constructed and linear in the manner of much classical Japanese verse: it can be read through as one sentence, a single unbroken thought. While many poets choose to focus on flowers, you opt to focus on greenery as the more anticipated springtime phenomenon.
寂しきや 一人で歩く 桜道 Christine Kim, Georgetown University
[地] Lonely, but bright! The second and third ku are, in concrete terms, simple and sweet. But they also suggest philosophical depth and a meditation on human mortality, as the sakura is a figure for evanescence (mujō 無常).
I think I might be inclined to say 寂しさや instead of 寂しきや in the first ku. You are not wrong to use 寂しき – the attributive form (rentaikei 連体形) of inflecting words can function as something like a noun (this is called the juntaihō 準体法). But I am put in mind of Basho’s famous suzushisa ya poem:
涼しさや suzushisa ya Stillness –
岩にしみいる iwa ni shimiiru Boring into solid rock
蟬の声 semi no koe The cries of the cicada
そよ風が 風鈴起こし 涼みけり Ryan Distaso, The George Washington University
[人] Excellent use of the inflecting suffix (jodōshi 助動詞) けり. In haiku, this suffix often indicates a sudden realization, and the impression the verse gives is one of the poet suddenly “feeling” the cool when he hears the windchime
桜木に 自由に飛べよ 窓の鳥 Caterina Peracchi, Georgetown University
[客] The concern for animals is reminiscent of the great Edo-period haiku poet Kobayashi Issa 小林一茶!
空見上げ 花火が見える 夜が咲く Henry Park, The George Washington University
[客] The third ku uses unconventional diction and connects well to the second via the association between the verb 咲く and the はな in 花火. The technique reminds one of “associated words” or engo 縁語 in classical waka. Since the fireworks are already going off as you look up, I would be inclined to avail myself of classical Japanese grammar in the third ku and say 夜咲きぬ, where ぬ is a perfective suffix (not to be confused with the negative ぬ) attached to the continuative form (ren’yōkei 連用形).
両親も 同じ満月 見えるかな Yichen Xie, The George Washington University
[客] This exemplifies a very traditional East Asian poetic trope – individuals separated by great distance viewing the same moon.